Ah, September. The month when summer finally loosens its grasp, when the first real taste of autumn shows up in a stiff breeze. It's a month I've always loved, a month I associate with hope and change and freedom. It's hard to feel hopeful right now, but the weather marches on regardless, and so, I suppose, must we all. There are still hot days ahead, but their end is numbered, and even now, as the sun beats down endlessly, you can scent autumn in the air, see it in the leaves.
The world continues as it has: a steady decline from bad to worse. The pandemic is not going away, and our officials are doing nothing to make things better; we remain trapped in the limbo of a partial shutdown, an absolute failure of leadership at all levels. The police continue to perform extrajudicial executions of Black people in the streets; increasingly they are discarding even the pretense that they exist to serve and protect any interest but those of white supremacy and fascism. A white kid shot and killed two protesters in Wisconsin; a fascist was shot and killed in Portland after the police escorted a fascist rally into the heart of the city. The president is still actively attempting to sabotage the election and there is no indication that if he loses he will cede power peacefully. People were passing around tips to bypass the president's electoral sabotage and still pretending we live in a democracy. It is, I suppose, a useful fiction.
I was reminded earlier that the word "apocalypse" refers to a revelation, literally an uncovering or unveiling. I think a lot of people are worried that calling what is happening right now an apocalypse is too dramatic, too hyperbolic, that worse things have happened, but if this year has done anything, it has revealed who we are as a society. Our society has never cared about the lives of its citizens, and has always fought at every turn to make sure that those who need care are not cared for. It is not a revelation to all of us, but now the veil is gone, the mask is off. We can no longer lie to ourselves. The theme for this month is "revelation."
But some good news, at least for me: I have finished a short story for the first time since 2015. It is technically called "Masks" and it is available here. The five years since the last story I finished haven't been entirely barren; a lot of it was spent working on some larger projects, building worlds, trying to figure out narratives. But a good portion of the silence has been the crushing psychological weight of being alive in every year from 2016 onward. The act of writing escapist stories about adventure felt too trivial, and the present felt so awful that writing something set in the future felt like it could only feel cheap in comparison.
It's still hard to put words on paper right now, but I've been working on it. The world of this story has been growing in my brain for years now. It's finally starting to coalesce into something; I've felt drawn to this world for years now, trying to make it work, to understand its metanarrative, and slowly, I think, I'm coming to understand how to explore it.
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