Casual Representation Matters

For a long time, I didn't think representation in fiction affected me the same way it affects most people. I intellectually understood that it mattered, and why, but I didn't fully get it. I'd read books with protagonists who were boys and protagonists who were girls (and protagonist teams that had both), and it didn't make much of a difference to me. I admittedly had (and still have) a soft spot for stories where a girl passed herself off as a boy, like Alanna, then of Trebond, from Tamora Pierce's Tortall universe, but there wasn't any great reaction to protagonists who were "like me".

Probably part of this was that most autistic characters written by non-autistic authors are really stereotypical. Definitely part of this was that I'd never actually read a story with a protagonist of my gender. Ever.

By which I mean, I'm non-binary. Reading a story about girls isn't actually representing me, no matter how many people mistake me for a girl.

Then I read Ninefox Gambit, The Raven Strategem, and Revenant Gun.

On top of the plots, which, yes good, these books have casual trans representation. There is an important minor character who uses they/them pronouns, and it's not considered noteworthy that they do. There are plenty of things that are noteworthy about this absolutely terrifying human, but in-universe, their pronouns are just a casual thing.

I actually started crying when I first saw Zehun referred to as a they.

There's also a trans guy in the story whose transness is, again, not a big deal in-world. We know about it because we see him binding (or undoing his binder before bed? I don't totally remember.) That's literally the only reference, but it tells us that yes, there are trans people in this universe. Many (perhaps most?) get surgery, but there are still trans people who bind.

He's a man and I'm not, but again, I cried. Here's a character binding and also being very important to the story for reasons that have nothing to do with his being trans.

When we talk about casual representation, with trans characters in stories that aren't about being trans, this is what we mean. (And yes, I'm aware of some irony in this post being about how they are trans. Representation matters, so I'm going to tell y'all the characters are, in fact, trans. Zehun is like me. I needed that.) There's enough information for me to know these characters are trans. But the story isn't about gender. It's about oppressive interstellar empires and living within (or upending) them. With trans people in it. Their world isn't one I especially want to live in, but it's one that recognizes people like me exist. That means something.

Disability Microfiction

For Cassandra Khaw's birthday, she asked that people do microfiction requests. So, I said I'd do disability microfiction (basically a story, premise, or piece of a story that fits in a single tweet) for people who replied with a word.

Reply with a word for a disability microfic https://t.co/ConggtPn39

— Alyssa (@yes_thattoo) August 31, 2019

This is me saving the fiction I wrote, and putting it in one place for blog followers who don't necessarily use Twitter.

Prompt: Cape

Her cape could double as a magic carpet. It came in handy when people forgot they were supposed to have ramps...

— Alyssa (@yes_thattoo) August 31, 2019

Prompt: Echo

“Echo echo echo!” I called out to the canyon. My voice didn’t come back, but I was having fun repeating the word anyways.

— Alyssa (@yes_thattoo) August 31, 2019

Prompt: Exuberant

When she heard the news, Anna couldn’t stop happy-flapping. Not that she wanted to. Being elected President definitely warranted happy-flapping.

— Alyssa (@yes_thattoo) August 31, 2019

Prompt: Horses

We made prostheses for the horses who lost legs in accidents.

— Alyssa (@yes_thattoo) August 31, 2019

Prompt: Triskaidekaphobia

I looked at the AAC specialist.
"... did you really need to unmask *exactly 13* words on that page? Can't we add, like, one more out of ALL THE WORDS?"#AAC #slpeeps #slp

— Alyssa (@yes_thattoo) August 31, 2019

Prompt: Ecstatic

They shook their wife awake. "Text the midwife, it's time!" they signed.

Their wife placed a hand on their belly, ecstatic, and reached for her cell phone.

— Alyssa (@yes_thattoo) August 31, 2019

Prompt: Kiss

At the end of the date, she rolled her wheelchair around the table, next to his. "May I kiss you?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

And they did.

— Alyssa (@yes_thattoo) August 31, 2019

Prompt: Dorsiflexion

The patron goddess of travel taught you to ride side-saddle, to avoid dorsiflexion.

— Alyssa (@yes_thattoo) August 31, 2019

Prompt: Strong Independent Person

The princess couldn’t speak, so she studied magic and designed a slate that spoke what she wrote on it.

— Alyssa (@yes_thattoo) August 31, 2019

Prompt: Crackle

His joints crackled as he put his knee back together. "What, haven't you ever seen a cyborg?" he joked. (He wasn't actually a cyborg, yet. Just hypermobile.)

— Alyssa (@yes_thattoo) August 31, 2019

Writing Accidentally Autistic Characters

Instigated by this Tumblr post, particularly the part where iridescent-enby asks what a writer can/should do if they realize they are writing an accidentally autistic character. How do they make the autism explicit without speaking for/over us (do they make it explicit?)

I’m responding as both a writer and an autistic person. Finding out that you were accidentally or unintentionally writing an autistic character is not the same as setting out to intentionally write an autistic character. When you set out to write an autistic character, you probably do research about autism. Hopefully, this research includes things written by actually autistic people, but... I'm well aware this isn't always the case. 

And advice about writing with autistic characters can be found. So can letters to writers about autism, examinations of common narrative methods for "showing" autism, analyses of problems like character development meaning "overcoming" autism or acting "less autistic," and discussions of behaviorizing vs. humanizing approaches to writing about autistic people and characters. I've even thrown my hat in this ring before, with "Who Gets to Stay Autistic?" In retrospect, I think I should have left the comma in the title: Who gets to stay, autistic?

There doesn't seem to be so much about what you do when you realize you're writing an autistic character. Which is kind of funny, because there are so many autistic characters running around who we're never told are autistic, who we recognize because we know ourselves. I definitely recognize characters as autistic while I'm reading. Alanna of Trebond and Olau, later Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau. Annie Cresta, with the added dose of PTSD that literally all the Victors have. Hermione Granger, because if I am just like her, then she is autistic too. Emily, from Questionable Content. Dairine Callahan.

It's not hard to write an autistic character without setting out to do so, because we're people, and you'll see us around in life. We exist, and knowledge about autism is such that you'll often only realize that we're quirky or eccentric, not that we're autistic. Something is different about us, and maybe it's interesting to you as an author, but you don't have the word for it and therefore neither does your now-accidentally-autistic character. 

That doesn't mean you can't find out later. Most likely, you'll find out because all of a sudden autistic people are noticing that they have a lot in common with the character, and maybe we're even telling you about it. Somehow or other, you find this character you wrote is autistic. Now what?

If you realize a character of yours is autistic while you’re still writing things with that character, and they’re in a context where the diagnosis and some level of popular awareness of it exist, you can arrange for it to come up. They could hear that their accommodations request could get approved. (If it's approved, you don't need to devote a plot arc to making this needed accommodation happen FFS, what is the ADA anyways?) They could have a teacher ask, "I thought there was something in your IEP about that?" (The school social worker asked me this when I quit group. I never had an IEP.)  They could show that they've known all along by mentioning it off-hand. ("Not eating that. Autism thing." or "No, everyone is not a little bit autistic! If everyone were a little bit autistic, fluorescent lights [or other sensory issue for the person] would not exist!" if they get into a situation where someone makes the joke about everyone being on the spectrum.) They could show up in a T-shirt that indicates autism. (Shirts of mine which would work for this purpose: Autistic Party Giraffe by Sparrow, Autreats Amazing Annual Adulthood Accalamation from when Autreat still existed -- this one involves some verbal explanation since non-autistic people who went to Autreat as kids and then as adults could have this short as well--, and "I love someone lacking autism" from Tone it Down Taupe.)

They could run into another autistic character who does already know, recognizes them, and says something. (This is perhaps more realistic than you'd think: I have literally been approached by another autistic person and greeted with, “Did you know you’re autistic? Come have lunch with me!” Subtlety: not something we’re usually known for, and autistic people recognizing each other as similar is a thing that happens whether or not we have the word autism. If one has the word and the other doesn’t, this could be how the second gets the word.)

Whether or not it's practical to include a reference to make the characters autism explicit in the actual work, however subtle or obvious, you can respond with Word of Author (aka God.) Don't claim you were intending them to be autistic if you weren't, we generally don't like lies. But! You totally can (and should):

1. Be noticeably not-insulted by the insinuation you could write (or play) an autistic character. Yes, folks have gotten insulted by the idea that a character they wrote or played or were otherwise involved in was getting read as autistic.
2. Accept the possibility (probability) that the character is, in fact, autistic. We're pretty good at recognizing our own. 
3. Be noticeably not-insulted by the idea that fans noticed something about a character you didn't necessarily intend. It's super easy to accidentally write an autistic character if you don't know that the real people they resemble (who you may have borrowed some autistic traits from) are autistic themselves!

Perhaps counter-intuitively, I would suggest that you not immediately go research autism for the purpose of writing the character if it becomes clear you’re writing an accidentally autistic character. If we're reading your character as autistic, that means you are already writing a good autistic character. Reading what supposed experts have to say about us is not going to help you write a better character. It will put stereotypes in your head that you will then need to work to avoid.

Autism... something Month

Not awareness. Awareness is scary because people who think they're "aware" of autism are mostly folks who are working off a whole lot of fear-mongering and Not Like My Child and all kinds of yucky stuff.

Not sure about acceptance, because I'm not sure that's enough. Acceptance and tolerance often feel similar, with a "well, fine, we'll deal with you as you are as long as you're close enough to normal" vibe to them. And I can't help but remember that acceptance is listed as one of the stages of grief. I think Autism Acceptance Month has actually been used that way, in a co-optation. The people I like and trust and work with on this sort of thing go with Autism Acceptance Month, and I won't argue with them over it while they're actually doing good stuff. (Language is, in fact, not the most important thing to me, even while words mean things. Language is imprecise sometimes and connotations make things tricky and that's OK. Language changes, too.)

There's already an Autistic Pride day, and it's in June.

Realistically, I'm just going to stick with Autism Acceptance for the time being. I'm also going to do stuff. National Poetry Writing Month is April, and I'll be writing a poem a day for the month. I'll be putting them up in chunks again so that I can post other things as well, but that's a thing that's happening. I'm considering putting some echolalic poetry in again this year. 

And I'm making my short stories with autistic characters in them free for 5 days apiece in April. First up is "The Beginning of Her Hell", which is free for April 1-5. Warnings for ableism and threats of institutionalization and violence in this story. (Ok, so as of right now there are two such short stories, but I'm hoping to get one more up this month.)

Image of the cover for "The Beginning of Her Hell" by Alyssa Hillary. A pair of blue eyes stares out over a typewriter.

Fiction and Representation (For Me)

After many, many years of being asked to visualize things and never being able to do it, and not forming pictures of characters or places in my head as I read, and never being able to accurately guess what a place actually looks like based on floor plans, I have reached the conclusion that I don't have a minds eye. (I reached the conclusion a while ago, so this isn't new, but it's relevant to the slightly unusual way I interact with representation in fiction.)

In fact, not only do I not come up with a mental image of a character as I read, but I also don't really remember the details of how a character is described as looking. (For similar reasons, I don't pay much attention to those details while I'm writing, which I'm working on because I know representation matters to people in all the ways they can interact with the information, and if I don't provide descriptions that show otherwise, people are going to assume all my characters are cisgender heterosexual able white people.)

One example I like to use for this is Hermione. The book descriptions of Hermione could be describing me, and I didn't realize this. After I saw the first movie, with Emma Watson as Hermione, while they were still trying to give her actual frizzy hair, I picked up on the bit where Hermione is a character who looks like me, but that didn't make Emma's Hermione take over the non-existent slot for my mental picture of Hermione. It didn't make me take over the non-existent slot either, because that slot doesn't exist. (Also, the book version of Hermione and I are fairly similar, personality-wise, which is the way that I can understand and interact with.)

For me, the non-existence of mental images for characters means that I personally don't much care what a character looks like. I care about it for the people who'll notice and care because they have minds eyes like that, and I care about it some (still not much) in movies because the pictures are given to me, but as far as making me feel represented goes, it really doesn't matter what the character looks like. I need characters who act like me, whether or not they look anything like me.

Give me characters who are awkward even when it isn't cute. Give me characters who avoid shopping because it's loud and bright. Give me characters whose interests don't line up with the idea of "geek" or "jock" or "creative type" or any of those, but have a mix from all. Give me characters who are good, really good, at some of the things they like but have to work hard to even manage "not terrible" for some of the others. Give me characters who act like me, with personalities like mine.

The physical descriptions matter for the people who can translate those to images, but that's not me and it will probably never be me. 

Disability in Science Fiction notes: part 2

Still reading Disability in Science Fiction: Representations of Technology as Cure. It's edited by Kathryn Allan. EasyBib tells me the citation for the book as a whole is this:

Allan, Kathryn. Disability in Science Fiction: Representations of Technology as Cure. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013. Print.

Part 1, covering the introduction and chapters 1-2, is here.

Below are my (mostly angry live-blog style) notes on Chapter 3.

 Chapter 3: The Many Voices of Charlie Gordon: On the Representation of Intellectual Disability in Daniel Keye's Flowers for Algernon. Howard Sklar. 47-59.

I've read Flowers for Algernon. I had nightmares after. Insert nervousness about the chapter here.

“Ordinarily, the compressed time span of Charlie's involvement with the experiment would provide limited scope for an overview of his life; however, the dramatic changes caused by the experiment produce a radically condensed version of his life, from the metaphorical “child” that opens the narration to the self-aware “adult” that he gradually becomes.” (47.)

Ok, so this quote creeps me the heck out. Seriously. We're calling Charlie, the main character, a metaphorical child. The guy is not a child! He's a disabled adult. This is not the same thing as childhood, even if the cognitive tools he's using are the same ones a neurotypical kid would be using, which they probably aren't, the extra years of experience living and using those tools matters!

And! I'm pretty sure “that” being the pronoun-like word after child, opening the story, the version of Charlie we start with who absolutely is cognitively disabled, versus the “adult” that he later becomes? Yes, it's a linguistic nitpick and the author would probably say it's just sentence structure agreement stuff, but how come Charlie only gets an actual pronoun after he's been neurologically enhanced?

Also, what's with the idea that this makes it difficult to locate Charlie's true voice? If we're working with the assumption that a change this big is still the same person (which, meh, I'm kind of iffy on, but since I don't recall Charlie questioning it and this author seems to be working with it,) then all the voices Charlie wrote in are his. None of this wanting to find his true voice nonsense, his voice can change over the course of the story, and if he's changing we should expect his voice to change too!

“In literature and life, the actual voices of people with intellectual disabilities are typically heard-- if at all-- through other people's accounts. When their actual life stories are recorded or written, they are generally reported by others, with all the editing and redaction that entails. In fiction, the distance is even greater, with nondisabled novelists and story writers providing the words and tone for their intellectually disabled characters.” (50)

Yeah that's a big problem.

I think I'm OK with the author describing Charlie as having multiple voices over the course of the story rather than just one, but extremely not OK with the idea that one of the voices is his true voice, because then the others would be fake voices or not really his- with indication of that being his opinion, of him thinking only one of the versions is really him, kind of like with autistic people who think that if we were somehow made not autistic then we would be different people, then the idea of only the pre-experiment version being him, having his voice, is one I could buy, but are they really going to go with that idea?

OH FOR PETE'S SAKE. The author actually says it straight out “Charlie argues vehemently for the continuity between his earlier “self” and his present “self” when he describes this dilemma later to Professor Nemur” (54.) Why then are we trying to divide up selves and voices and find one that's the true one, they're all him. (Go check pg 63 or so, “But I'm not an inanimate object...” in Flowers for Algernon)

“Mostly then, what Charlie wants is for people to recognize his humanity-- both before and after the procedure. In these examples-- the progression from his earlier, developing awareness of the way he has been treated, to an attempt to weigh the significance of that treatment and how to deal with it, to arguing for his dignity as a person regardless of his intellectual capacity-- all these suggest that he is changed yet unchanged, that there is a unified core in his voice, however intelligent or lacking in intelligence the features in each of those voices may make him seem.” (54.)

I want to question a thing, now, based on the bit where as much as I have been arguing for listening to what Charlie says in evaluating who Charlie is, he is a character written by a nondisabled author and he therefore isn't the greatest example of an actual person with intellectual disabilities who fits a given assumption.

“There is indeed an assumption that intellectually disabled individuals are limited in their abilities to tell their own stories. Naturally, cognitive impairment may limit the ability to understand aspects of an individuals own experience, as it does for Charlie.” (55.)

I'm not actually going to deny that this can happen- it's happened to me before, where my own cognitive disabilities have meant it took me until years later to understand certain aspects of my experiences, and also where people's assumptions about my cognitive abilities have formed a barrier between myself and that understanding. But Charlie is not the example to use here. I know we're talking about Flowers for Algernon, but using a fictional disabled character, especially one written by an able person, as an example of a thing that can actually happen with disability to show that it can happen? Bad idea. No. Go with actual disabled people for that, not an abled authors impression of a disabled person.

“Charlie, speaking with the voice of academic intelligence and scientific authority, ultimately comes to know what his less capable voices have been saying all along: that the experiences are his alone to voice.” (55.)

AND WHY DO WE NEED ACADEMIC VOICE CHARLIE TO SAY IT? I mean, yes, great that this is how we end that chain of thought, ish, as opposed to wanting scientists saying stuff, but why do we need the now-academic Charlie to realize it before it's believed rather than listening to Charlie while he's still disabled??? That is seriously not OK.

Good that now we've got recognition of the bit where Keyes is a nondisabled author, and that this is “problematic” for the whole novel, even more so with how it ends.

That ending. It's not until Charlie is realizing that he's going to be intellectually disabled again and is scared of it (despite thinking that he was better off before in some ways) that he fragments at all. Hrm. Fear of who he used to be? That wasn't there before, it's not consistent with the Charlie we'd seen before, why'd it show up now?

Disability in Science Fiction notes: part 1

I'm reading Disability in Science Fiction: Representations of Technology as Cure. It's edited by Kathryn Allan. EasyBib tells me the citation for the book as a whole is this:

Allan, Kathryn. Disability in Science Fiction: Representations of Technology as Cure. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013. Print.

Anyways, my notes from reading the introduction, chapter 1, and chapter 2 are below.

Introduction: Reading Disability in Science Fiction, Kathryn Allan, 1-15

Synder, Sharon L. and David T. Mitchell. Cultural Locations of Disability. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006. Print.

“Disability is a difference that exists only to be undone” (190, emphasis in original.)

Peace, William J. “Slippery Slopes: Media, Disability, and Adaptive Sports.” The Body Reader. Ed. Jean Moore and Mary Kosut. New York: New York University Press, 2010. 332-344. Print.

“People with disabilities have embraced the internet with gusto and have formed a vibrant cyber community. Disability studies scholars have also embraced the internet, but their communication and scholarship is restricted and exclusionary. This is a significant problem” (343.)

Quayson, Ato. Aesthetic Nervousness: Disability and the Crisis of Representation. New York: Columbia University Press, 2007. Print.

Quayson identifies nine main categories of disability representation: “

1. Disability as null set and/or moral test
2. Disability as interface with otherness (race, class, social identity)
3. Disability as articulation of disjuncture between thematic and narrative vectors
4. Disability as bearer of moral deficit/evil
5. Disability as epiphany
6. Disability as signifier of ritual insight
7. Disability as inarticulable and enigmatic tragic insight
8. Disability as hermeneutical impasse
9. Disability as normality” (52.)

Chapter 1: Tools to Help You Think: Intersections between Disability Studies and the Writings of Samuel R. Delany. Joanne Woiak and Hioni Karamanos. 19-33

Basically I need to read Samuel R. Delany's stuff, because good sci fi and yeah.

Delany, Samuel R.

The Einstein Intersection. 1967. Hanover, NH: Wesleyan University Press, 1998. Print.

Empire Star. New York: Bantam, 1966. Print.

Pages 114-115 of The Einstein Intersection apparently has really good stuff in it.

“The stories give you a law to follow--”
“--that you can either break or obey.”

And in Empire Star: “The only important elements in any society are the artistic and the criminal, becayse they alone, by questioning the society's values, can force it to change” (103.)

Oh hey, I want to quote a chapter author directly rather than wanting the quote they wanted too from someone else.

Mainstream diversity courses routinely reproduce the exclusion of disability, treating it as an “add-on” to race, class, and gender. The Einstein Intersection, by contrast, illustrates how disability is used to justify other intersecting forms of inequality. For example, in the village, full participation as a sexual and gendered being depends on status as a “functional norm,” while in the city, wealth and class status are tied to making disability invisible. (32)

Chapter 2: Freaks and Extraordinary Bodies: Disability as Generic Marker in John Varley's “Tango Charlie and Foxtrot Romeo.” Ria Cheyne. 35-46

“In deciding to have the tattoo, Galloway foregrounds her cyborg status and resists normalization” (38.) This is in reference to a character who, in a sense, cured herself (funded the research used in her cure) but still choses to emphasize her status as having been disabled. In the same story, two former murderers are under “amparole,” with prosthetic arms made to be light, airy, and beautiful, as well as refusing to pick up a knife or gun.

Gosling, Ju. “Towards a Scientific Model of Disability.” Abnormal. N.p., 2009. Web. http://www.ju90.co.uk/nimr/model.htm, needs read, probably needs used in the engineering version along with medical and social models when introducting the models. Ooooh. See also links to other models here. http://www.ju90.co.uk/nimr/bground.htm

Two New eThings and Happy Birthday to Me!

I am 22 today!
Woot.

I also have two new things out. (And if suggesting you get them because it's my birthday will work, then consider this said suggestion.)

The first is a short science fiction story.
There is an autistic character. There is a character who is technically a cyborg. There are a bunch of characters who are alien computers. There is no intersection between these categories, and I've been told there's some response to/coverage of the trope where the alien or the robot is like the autistic character.
It's also fun with a smuggler and her friend visiting a planet of sentient computers.

Where None Have Thought to Go is on Amazon.

Cover of "Where None Have Thought to Go." The background is the surface of a "planet" and stars, composite from photos courtesy of NASA/JPL-Caltech. There is a semi-transparent brain and computer chip combination superimposed over the stars, and the title and author are in white text. (Alyssa Hillary is the author.)

I also have a collection of poetry, Poems Can Be Fun(ny). 
It's about what the title suggests: original poetry, humor included.

Cover of "Poems Can Be Fun(ny)" by Alyssa Hillary. The background is an abstract geometric design in pink, blue, and purple by the author, and the title and author name are in black text.

All the things are here, just in case my other stuff sounds interesting. I do have another story with an autistic character already, and she has point of view for the whole story. I also have a (very short) story about a tomato and cheese soup ending the world by consuming it, if ridiculousity if your thing.

Now for stuff that's mostly not self-promotion, and mostly is life updatey stuff.

1) I know, I know. The last three days on my blog have been commercial-ish. Tomorrow's post and the next days post are written and scheduled, and they are not commercial at all.

2) I'm moving back to school today! I'm going to be a teaching assistant, teaching a section of precalculus. That's gonna be pretty cool.

3) Apparently The Queens Readers is just about ready, which is yay because I'm in it. I'm talking about neurodiversity in Tamora Pierce's work. The criticism parts just happened to not fit in with the rest of the essay according to the editors (not sure if I entirely trust that, but I really was disorganized and writing at the last minute so not sure that I distrust it either.) So I really do believe the positives that I said, just remember that there are also negatives that I didn't say. (Like chemical restraint in Cold Fire oh my god, but also realistic terribleness...)

4) I have a paper accepted for the INSPIRe conference that actually connects my disability side and my STEM side, so that's cool. I need to finish actually writing it though.

5) About a year ago, I was going ARGH about a thing with The Feminist Wire and their call for papers, which inspired a proposal for a text chapter. Well, the chapter got accepted and is a good bit of the way written.

6) That whole Accessing The Future thing I talked about the day before yesterday? I think I know what I'm submitting. It's in the same universe and a semi-sequel to Where None Have Thought to Go, but with a more mixed narrative format. (Presenting a piece of tech you see offered to the autistic character in the story to folks on Earth and watching the reactions from quite a few directions, essentially, with some additional side-plot themes that get some more into examining the alien/robot as autistic trope.)

Blog hop: Accessing The Future Fiction

I just found The Future Fire thanks to a friend of mine, That Crazy Crippled Chick, because she linked me to an article listing 5 positive representations of disability in science fiction. As a disabled person (and a disabled writer who sometimes does science fiction and fantasy,) that's totally a thing I want to see.

Anyways, they author of that post is also crowdfunding for Accessing The Future, a planned anthology of speculative fiction (so basically everything I read and most of what I write) with disability themes. I'm totally going to submit a story once they get to that point.

Also a blog hop.

1. Tell us about your Work In Progress (WIP) / Current Read (CR) and the world it's set in.
   
   I'm almost done with a story tentatively titled Where None Have Known to Look, where a smuggler and her friend visit a race of sentient computers on a planet no one else knows about... and the friend has the choice to become part computer. It'd be useful, certainly, but people already think he's not fully human- is he willing to let them be right?
   
   The reason folks think he's not fully human is that he's autistic, so while I didn't think too much about the world it's set in before... I'm going to say it's socially pretty similar to that of today, just adding in contact with interstellar trade routes and the extra technology involved in making that possible.
   
   By almost done I mean tomorrows post is probably going to be the announcement that you can buy it on Amazon. (I've got other stuff there already.)
   
2. Who are the most powerful people in this world?
   
   At a local to planetary level, there's a good bit of variation, but in general, the folks who control interplanetary trade control most everything else. At planetary levels, that means whoever was rich enough to get into the space trade early (for their planet) has come out on top.
   
3. Where does their power come from?
   
   Controlling trade means they're controlling how goods and services flow, which means they can make or break a planets economy if they really want to. Mostly they just want to have that as an unspoken threat, but it's effective enough. Think the current corporate mess, just at the interstellar level.
    
4. What physical and/or mental characteristics underpin their positions of power?
   
   Whatever underpinned power on their planet before they made interstellar contact still does- so on Earth, being white, male, heterosexual, cisgendered, ambulatory, generally able-bodied, close to neurotypical, and having received a western-style education is still a big determining factor.
   
   If you get off your home planet for whatever reason, most people you meet won't know what your species-typical and culture-typical things are, so it reverts to your place within the trade hierarchy, unless and until you're dealing with someone familiar with your planet and species, at which point the same biases you deal with at home are coming into play.
   
5. How does this affect the weakest people in the world?
   
   It's theoretically possible for someone closer to the bottom of the heap to be an exception and get off-planet, which is totally a functioning escape method: Trevina is Hispanic, and she faces racism on Earth. But she's an independent trader/smuggler (mostly grey market,) and when she's off planet she'll rarely run into anyone who knows enough about humans to understand that skin color has any significance... or even that we come in multiple colors. She'll just deal with her status as an independent trader (common folk love her, big trading companies hate her, law enforcement doesn't really trust her but will probably look the other way unless she does something really egregious because she's considered a little fish) and as a foreigner.
   
   But she's made it to that level, which means she's rather emphatically not one of the weakest people in her society. She's got some social categories in common with her planet's share of them, which is very different, especially considering that she's mostly not on her home planet.
   
   People generally don't starve- it's gotten to the point where starvation would be bad enough publicity that they make sure everyone can eat- but it's not pretty. Shelter is not a given, nor is medical care, unless you can pay. Most people don't actually have any contact off-planet unless a close friend or family member has gone to labor on an asteroid or in helping make a new planet fit for life, but jobs are often moving to planets where wages are lower or resources cheaper. For the moment, resources are fairly expensive on Earth but wages are low, so service jobs and low-resource crafting (artisanal work) are easy to find. 

I didn't realize I knew this much about my universe. I might need to write more in it...

The Beginning of Her Hell

It's another short story! This time, I'm following an autistic girl named Leah, stopping in to take a look every so often from when she's about six months old through sometime in high school. Other people are... realistically terrible.

You can get The Beginning of Her Hell on Amazon for $0.99.

Image is of the cover of "The Beginning of Her Hell." The title is in orange text along with the author's name, Alyssa Hillary. The background is white, with a pair of blue eyes looking out over a typewriter.

The Apocalyptic Soup

I wrote a short story!

The main idea can probably best be covered by a floating sphere of soup declaring that everything shall be soup.

The folks who've read it so far liked it. You should consider getting it and reading it, because maybe you'll like it too.

You can get it here!

Fiction and Injuries

Warnings: Significant discussions of injuries including animal attacks and broken bones, healing process. Also, brief mention of menstruation.

I write fiction sometimes. A lot of people do. Unrealistic injuries and reactions to them are really common (often authors neglect the fact that while a character may be able to adrenaline/stubborn their way through injuries at the time of the injury, there is also time spent healing and recovering lost strength, itching/aching scars are things, stuff like that.)
People deciding reactions I've actually had to my injuries are unrealistic are also common. Sometimes causing me to have my recovery path be that of "no treatment," including for a broken foot.

So here's some stuff I'm going to point out, coming from major injuries I've had.

1) If you get a concussion, the worst effects might not be the right-away effects. They weren't for any of the times I got concussions, actually. Right away effects were mostly along the lines of "ow that hurt," but later on? Especially a few days later? Nasty headache, and I had difficulty concentrating. Dizzyness can happen for a while too.


2) Broken bones: It is absolutely possible to break bones and not know right away, so long as everything still takes weight and moves approximately the way you tell it to (or about as close to that as it did before.) This also assumes that there's not bone sticking out visibly or something.
HOWEVER.
Even in these cases, healing will take just as long as it normally does. Eventually, you're going to figure out that it was broken.

a) Broken nose? Headaches, oh my goodness the headaches are terrible, and it can last a few months. Also, I didn't get a nose bleed the time I broke my nose so that is possible. If someone is a doctor/healer/nurse type, they will recognize a broken nose should they see it, and will probably comment, but there may or may not be anything that they can do. Sometimes they can make sure the bones are lined up properly, sometimes doing so would require re-breaking the nose.

b) Broken tailbone? Sitting is going to be very unfun for a while. Horseback riding is for no. If your character menstruates, there will be a bigger blood splat from whatever impact broke the tailbone (soooo many things make bigger blood splats during menstruation it is obnoxious.)

c) Broken leg? The type of fracture matters. Someone with a focal fracture may or may not realize they have a broken leg until it still hurts much later than it should for a bruise or even when they realize months later that "oh wait my leg bone has a dent in it." I might be speaking from experience. [I am. There is a dent in my right shin from a focal fracture that happened about five years ago.] If it's a focal fracture, your character can probably walk and run, but their leg hurts and will for a while.
If it's not a focal fracture, your character still might be able to stand, depending on if it's broken all the way through or not (there's levels of how broken legs can be) and if they have anything they can use as a crutch, but they shouldn't choose to unless it is truly dire. Healing crooked may be a worry if they can't get at treatment, and unless magic is in play the broken leg will be an issue for months.

d) Broken foot? This is one of the ones where my actual reaction gets called unrealistic, because I could (and did) stand, walk, hike, run, etc on my broken foot. It was not a good idea, but because my pain threshold and tolerance are both ridiculous, I didn't realize it was broken for a while.
That said, I did eventually figure it out, and healing took a long time. I got the injury near the end of July of one year. An MRI happened near the end of August and the location of the break was pretty visible. I was told it couldn't be a break because "to look like that a break would have to be a month old," with the doctor knowing the injury was a month old. No, it doesn't make sense to me either. I think "walked on a broken foot for a month" was too much for the doctor to handle.
I couldn't physically get my foot into my sneakers until late October. That's how swollen it was. (I'd worn approximately hiking sandals all summer and into the school year, it wasn't until I attempted my cleats for Ultimate that I realized I couldn't get my feet into those and tried (and failed) sneakers. Cleats took until January or so.


3) Attacked by a wild pig/boar? Well, mine was theoretically domesticated, but at 800lb it's fairly close. So a few points: Your character is lucky to be alive. They should be aware of this. If they were bitten, they are at risk of infection (this goes for getting bitten by smaller animals as well.) If they were bitten, even with treatment this is going to take time to heal, and depending on where they were bitten, this will put different sorts of hitches in their plans. Remember that wild pigs/boar are big, and this is likely to be a crushing injury (or a body parts missing injury.)
For me (rammed in the rear, then bitten on inner thigh,) I limped significantly for about a month. I took several more months before I could run/walk the same distances I used to walk/run. The doctor told me to expect to miss several weeks of school due to inability to walk (they didn't count on stubbornness+ridiculous pain tolerance, and I mean ridiculous. If your character has not trained themselves to ignore large amounts of pain and does not have sensory processing issues, your character can not do what I did.)
Five and a half years later (this happened in the same school year as the shin fracture but not the same calendar year) there is still a scar, and it still sometimes itches. The bitten thigh remains slightly thicker than the uninjured thigh. Despite the fact that I am right hand/foot dominant, my left leg remains slightly stronger and more flexible than my right.

So remember: injuries have long-term effects. Even if your character is able to ignore/push through major injuries at the time (and there should be a reason that they can, if they can, as well as a very good reason for them to choose to should they be aware of the extent of their injuries,) they will still have to spend a good long time healing. Some injuries will have permanent effects.
Even if you aren't registering the pain consciously (or can't feel the pain for whatever reason, like if someone is paralyzed from the waist down and then has an injury on their leg) pain still affects the body.

Have an Excerpt!

I'm doing NaNoWriMo.
Today you're getting an excerpt. Not really edited, but what of the stuff I put up here is?

Yes, Alex is autistic. No, she doesn't know she's autistic. No, she's never going to find out.
This isn't where the story actually starts, but it was the first thing written- I'm not actually writing in order, and it seems like Alex and Kaili are each getting about a books worth of stuff before they meet.

Alex leaned against the palace wall, absently gliding her fingers against the smoothness of the marble, and waited, ignoring the servants bustle as they moved tables and hung banners outside. She was hours early for the tournament sign-up, which would not open until noon: she preferred to avoid the explanations her mother would demand if she left dressed as a boy with her breasts bound, carrying the sword she wasn't supposed to have, with her hair in a style used by long-haired young men instead of the proper ladies bun she hated spending her time on. She also preferred not to be late or poorly dressed for the banquet that evening. “I spent my afternoon signing up for a tournament” would get her in more trouble than no explanation at all. So she made sure to be early.

It paid off. She was the first to sign up, which meant she was the first to leave. On her way out, she noticed Jasson entering the courtyard. She hoped he didn't recognize her. That was one headache she didn't need.

Then Alex remembered. She'd planned well for getting out of her room for sign-ups, rising well before dawn. But how was she going to get back in? She couldn't exactly walk in with her hair down and her breasts bound, no more than she could walk in with her sword out. Not with her parents awake, which they would be by now. With luck, they wouldn't be worrying about where she was yet. They knew her habit of walking in the mornings at home.

She ran towards Jasson's rooms, across the palace- she'd seen him enter the line to sign up for the tourney, and that meant he wasn't in his rooms. Then she stopped. She had no way to get into his rooms. She looked around: she stood in the gardens, and the winter weather meant few people lingered. Alex stepped off the path and behind some bushes, hoping the cold would last until she could return. She didn't want anyone lingering long enough to notice her things. She put her sword, dagger, and shirt into her pack, pulled out the short dress she had thought to bring, closed the bag, and slid it under the largest of the bushes, cursing as she discovered the hard way that this bush had thorns. She looked at her arms- there were several lines where her skin was lighter than it should be from the scratches, but no blood. With luck, the scratches would fade before a maid noticed, or worse, her mother.

A Silly NaNoWriMo Thing

You know what? Fun things. Fun writery things. It's NaNoWriMo. There's a guinea pig on the forums for NaNoWriMo, well, really it's the guinea pig's owner, and they've got a novel up. Only 400-something words, and it's day 7, so they're gonna need a lot of help if they want to get 50,000 words by the end of the month. See, the way they're working is to collect words other people send them. There's a basic plot idea, Batpig and the Princess Bouncy Braids, and chaos is supposed to ensue. Here's the novel's page.

The current excerpt is my words (as I'm writing this, anyways,) so I feel totally fine reprinting those here in case reading those encourages you to make words. It's silly. It doesn't need to be good. There's not even a requirement that submissions fit or make sense with the stuff that's already there or be related to anything. Just a scene, paragraphs, whatever, written in November when you're bored or feel like it. Like karlianne said.

Exerpt is always the most recent submission, and the first submission of the month is me, so that's how you can make stuff connect if you want to try. Paragraphs can be NaNoMailed to the guinea pig if you're on the forums, or if not, you can email it.

 

It was a dark and stormy night when Princess Bouncy Braids went riding on her Pretty Princess Pony. It's a good question why she would go riding on such a night, but this happened, and since she is a princess, she can pretty much do what she wants. Sometimes that means it'll be a really bad idea, and she'll do it anyways just because she can. Her parents, the King and the Queen, are the only ones who have the authority to make her listen, and there's not much of anyone else you can go to once Princess Bouncy Braids decides she really wants to do something. In this case, the something was going out riding despite the fact that it was midnight, and it was thundering, and then it started to hail while she was saddling Pretty Princess Pony. The stable pig did send a messenger pigeon to the King and Queen, but they were busy in diplomatic meetings with the meerkat ambassador in the hope of preventing the war that seemed inevitable. And so they didn't read the message, and Princess Bouncy Braids went for a ride at midnight.
It was a dark and stormy morning when the Pretty Princess Pony returned without Princess Bouncy Braids. Unfortunately for everyone there, the Pretty Princess Pony couldn't speak guinea pig, and so no one could ask her what happened. If they could find someone who spoke pony, that would be another matter, but for the time being, they would have to search without a witness report. That would make the search harder. Oh, yes, that would make it much harder. I suppose I'll need to make sure they don't get anyone who speaks pony to the palace until it's too late for Pretty Princess Pony's memories to help them, won't I? We don't want her ruining my plans, after all, even if I didn't get to start making them until after Princess Bouncy Braids was foolish enough to go riding alone on a dark and stormy night. I'm just taking advantage of the situation. That's all. Can you blame me? I do so love a good bit of chaos, and if I'm lucky? Well, if I'm really lucky, they'll blame the meerkats. Then war really will be inevitable, and won't that be fun to watch?
_________________________________________________________________

Oh, isn't this wonderful? The King and Queen didn't blame the meerkats. They did something even better. They and the meerkats are both convinced the capybaras framed the meerkats! Hiding my trail and watching chaos ensue has never been so much fun. Now there will be three nations at war, all because that fool Princess Bouncy Braids saw fit to ride alone on a dark and stormy night. I'm just taking advantage of the situation, after all.

There you have it. Fun writery things. And it's NaNoWriMo participation of a sort without the full level of NaNoWriMo commitment. Good for kids, maybe? Or just for fun.

I myself have noticed my growing resemblance to a daffodil

Fanfiction, Tamora Pierce, was on Archive of Our Own first. Warning that we have characters thinking they and/or other characters have lost their minds due to one character having woken up as a daffodil. I don't own the characters or the universe.

When Neal woke up, the first thing he noticed was that everything seemed much larger than usual. He looked around his page quarters. Everything was bigger, and his perception of color seemed a bit off. He looked down. Then he fainted.

When he came too, he looked down again. Sure enough, he seemed to be a flower of some sort. He couldn't tell what sort, seeing as his eyes were in what he presumed to be the bloom, but the shape of his arms suggested that he may have become a daffodil.

I myself have noticed my growing resemblance to a daffodil. No. That had been a joke. He was not supposed to actually turn into a daffodil. It had to be a dream. It had to.

Experimentally, he tried to wiggle his toes, or where his toes should be. He felt no response. Looking down, he saw no response. He seemed to have taken root in his sheets. He tried to move a whole leg. Still nothing. Nealan of Queenscove began to panic. Wiggling his fingers was impossible. Waving his arms was much slower than it should have been, but there was movement. He could turn his head. He tried to speak. It was barely audible, but his voice existed. That was something.

Of all the stupid jokes I made, this has got to be the worst to actually have happen.

There was no way he could scream loudly enough to be heard with the door closed. He had to hope that someone would come looking for him, and soon.

Kel didn't see her best friend at breakfast. Risking lateness for class, she ran to the hall where all the pages lived and pounded on his door. “Neal!” She heard a squeak, barely. She kept pounding. When more squeaking was the only answer, she tried the door. It opened. Neal was not in his room, and there was a daffodil taking root in his bed. She wasn't sure what was going on, but it wasn't good. Turning to leave and tell the training master that Neal was missing, she heard more squeaks. They sounded vaguely like words, and they came from the daffodil.

“Kel? Can you hear me? It's... it's Neal.” Kel looked at the daffodil that was claiming to be her best friend, and it continued. “I myself have noticed my growing resemblance to a daffodil.” She heard what sounded like nervous laughter. That was Neal, all right. But he was... a daffodil. That was a problem, and frankly one harder to solve than trying to keep her fellow pages alive when they were ambushed by bandits in the hills had been. That was a question that made sense, even if the answer was hard to get. This question should have been impossible.

“Should I get the Stump?”

“Probably. And Numair.”

“I'll be back.”

Wyldon was easy to find at the training yards. “You're late, Mindelan.”

She bowed. “Yes, sir. And Neal seems to be a daffodil.”

He stared at the one female page. “I think we need to get you to the healers. Clearly the stress of training has taken a toll on you. I've said it before, that women aren't cut out for this life.”

Kel bit her lip. That was the most logical assumption for Lord Wyldon to make, and unfortunately, it was the wrong one. “Please, sir. He hasn't reported to practice this morning yet. Can you at least come check his rooms before concluding I've lost my mind? I'm telling you, Neal seems to be a daffodil.”

“Very well, Mindelan, if only so that I can attest to the inaccuracy of your delusion when I drag you to the healers afterwards.” He followed her to Neal's rooms, then knocked on his door. “Page Nealan, this is your training master. Open this door at once.”

Only a faint squeaking was heard. Lord Wyldon knocked again. “If you do not open this door by the count of ten, I will open it myself.”

“It's unlocked, sir,” Keladry said.

When he reached ten, the door remained shut. Entering the room, Wyldon saw no signs of the Queenscove boy, though there was a daffodil on his bed. Gods, I've lost my mind too. Then he heard the squeaking again, coming from the daffodil.

“Yes, Neal, I brought him. He thought I was insane, though I'm not sure if he thinks differently now. He might think he's insane too.”

“I wish you were insane. If this is a delusion, it's shared.”

Wyldon swore, something neither Kel nor Neal had heard him do before. “We either need healers, all of us, or we need Numair.”

“Shall I get him, sir?” Keladry asked.

“No, you stay with our... daffodil. I'll get Numair.”

Winter is Coming

Oh hey, more fanfiction. The prompt was Winter is Coming, and yes, I stuck this on Archive of Our Own first. 

Alana shivered as she got out of bed and dressed. Last night had been the first hard frost of the season, and it was still too early to for it to have warmed much. She estimated that she had an hour until the first bell of the morning, when she would need to go to the dining hall and eat, then go to the practice fields with the rest of the pages. That was time enough to practice with Coram's sword, and as much as she hated the cold, she hated the idea that she might be killed adventuring due to never having mastered the sword even more. She pulled on as many layers as she could without truly affecting her ability to walk, borrowed his sword quietly (he had drunk too much after his guard shift the prior night and would likely sleep till noon, waking with a horrid headache,) and headed for the private mirrored room she practiced in. She would learn to be natural yet. She had to.

That was not the morning she learned to be natural. Nor was the morning after. She hoped she was making progress, though she had little evidence of this. In practice with her fellow pages, she felt as slow and clumsy as ever. Sklaw could some progress in the small red-head, but he seldom complimented anyone and never her. Without the free practice duel that he seemed so reluctant to put her in after the utter disaster her first had been, there was no evidence she could judge. She didn't notice how Coram's sword felt less heavy than it had, nor did she realize that she was completing her pattern drills faster. If she had, it would have been some small comfort against the fact that hard frosts were now every night and it was still cold in even their morning practice outdoors. At least when it's actually winter, they won't make us practice outside anymore!

Days before the end of outdoor practice for winter, the Duke granted Alana a day off. For the opportunity to see George, she could brave the cold she dealt with on the practice courts. She saddled Moonlight herself and rode to the Dancing Dove. En route, she had to use the thieves sign George taught her- even those who knew they could go to market any time they wished were starting to shop for Midwinter in earnest, and that meant the pickpockets were out in force. Most of the cities thieves knew better than to bother the red-head with violet eyes, as he was a friend of the Rogue, but this was a time of year where there were new folk in the Court who didn't yet know whose purses to leave alone.

George noticed her right away, of course, looking up from his card game. “Lad, I wasn't expecting to see you until Midwinter! His Grace decide you deserved a day of rest, did he?”

“He said I was making progress well enough that I could get my Midwinter shopping done before the crowds.” Alana snorted. “I think he misjudged the crowds.”

“He may not have the same information that we cityfolk do, always up in the palace. Why would he care about a storm down the river? But the dockworkers care- no boats coming in means buy while they've the time.”

“Is it coming this way?” Much as Alana hated cold, she liked snow, and with winter almost upon them, a storm might well bring snow to throw at her friends.

“Unlikely- that his Grace would know, and even I've not heard it. Now, shall we deal you in?”

Alana took the offered cards- Gambler's Chance was an old game, and she knew it well. 

Sprouting Lightning

I write fanfiction sometimes. This was actually on Archive of our Own (A03) first.

Warning: I'm depicting a bit of a meltdown here. Not particularly graphic, mostly the crying kind.

(I say meltdown because I read Tris as autistic.)

“Tris?” Sandry said. “Your hair?”

Tris raised her hand to her bandanna, which had once again fallen off, leaving her frizzy red hair uncovered. She grabbed a lock of hair and pulled it around to look. It was sprouting lightning. She groaned.

“I don't need this. I don't need this. I don't even want it. Why is my hair sprouting lightning when I'm not even upset?!”

“You don't sound 'not even upset,' Coppercurls,” their foster-brother drawled, “though all I see is a real bad case of Runog's Fire.”

“Thanks ever so,” Tris snapped.

“She wasn't, though,” Daja said. “Until Sandry pointed out that she was sprouting lightning.”

“Is it getting worse? I mean- more?” Tris said. She did not need this. No no no no no.

“It doesn't look like it,” Sandry said.

“Well, that's something.” Tris said. She started pulling the seed lightning from her hair. More came to replace it. “AUGH!”

Lark entered, rubbing her eyes drowsily. “What's wrong?”

“Lightning is wrong. I knew I could make it when I was angry, like with the pirates, but...”

“You didn't expect it to happen every time you were upset?”

Tris sniffed. “I wasn't!”

“But you are now, dear. Sit tight, I'll put the kettle on. Do any of you know where Niko is?”

The four children shook their heads. “Away,” Tris said. “This morning there was a note saying I should meditate as usual for the start of our lesson time, and then I was free. He knows that means I'll read.”

“He didn't say where he was going?”

Tris shook her head.

“Do you know when he'll be back?”

Tris nodded. “Late tonight, I think. Could... could you maybe leave a message with the people in charge of his rooms that he should come here as soon as he can? I don't want to go myself when I don't know what my hair is even doing.”

“Or course I can, dear. It will be all right.”

“And if it's not, well, you just chuck lightning at people until they pretend it is, right?” Briar said.

Tris glared daggers at her brother. “Oh? Remember the time you were sprouting lightning?”

“But I can't throw it a'purpose!” he insisted. “Plus, yours doesn't seem to be going nowhere. It's just sitting there, in your hair.”

“At least for now.”

Sandry looked thoughtful. “If you wove some of your lightning together as a sort of cloth, would the rest of the lightning stay behind it?”

Tris stared at Sandry, then looked down at the lightning in her hand. It was still dancing around her fingers. Staying in one place wasn't something lightning seemed to do: it was the movement of energy that made it, after all. “How?”

“Well, Daja's fire-weavings-”

“Not that kind of how, how do I make lightning act like thread?”

“Maybe if I work through you?”

Lark interrupted them. “If you're going to start playing with magic you've never tried before- that, no one has ever tried before, you need a protective circle first.”

“So that if we blow ourselves up, we only blow ourselves up?” Tris asked.

“Exactly.” That was Rosethorn. “No taking others with you while you attempt the impossible.”

Sandry looked at Rosethorn. “Why would it be impossible?”

Rosethorn looked at Lark, then at Sandry. “Lightning burns thread. Thread mages shouldn't be able to weave with it.”

“What about fire?” Briar insisted. “She wove that.”

“Which should also be impossible,” Rosethorn informed them. “If you four didn't have a history of impossible, your answer would be 'Don't even think about it.'”

Tris rubbed her forehead. “And the problem I'm having right now?”

“Also impossible. Or it should be.”

“Great.” Tris said. “We're going to make a protective circle so we can try something impossible to fix a problem that's impossible to have, and the only reason you're letting us do it is because of other impossible things. Sound about right?”

Sprouting Lightning

I write fanfiction sometimes. Like now. Universe, characters come from Tamora Pierce, and I put this on Archive of Our Own first.

“Tris?” Sandry said. “Your hair?”

Tris raised her hand to her bandanna, which had once again fallen off, leaving her frizzy red hair uncovered. She grabbed a lock of hair and pulled it around to look. It was sprouting lightning. She groaned.

“I don't need this. I don't need this. I don't even want it. Why is my hair sprouting lightning when I'm not even upset?!”

“You don't sound 'not even upset,' Coppercurls,” their foster-brother drawled, “though all I see is a real bad case of Runog's Fire.”

“Thanks ever so,” Tris snapped.

“She wasn't, though,” Daja said. “Until Sandry pointed out that she was sprouting lightning.”

“Is it getting worse? I mean- more?” Tris said. She did not need this. No no no no no.

“It doesn't look like it,” Sandry said.

“Well, that's something.” Tris said. She started pulling the seed lightning from her hair. More came to replace it. “AUGH!”

Lark entered, rubbing her eyes drowsily. “What's wrong?”

“Lightning is wrong. I knew I could make it when I was angry, like with the pirates, but...”

“You didn't expect it to happen every time you were upset?”

Tris sniffed. “I wasn't!”

“But you are now, dear. Sit tight, I'll put the kettle on. Do any of you know where Niko is?”

The four children shook their heads. “Away,” Tris said. “This morning there was a note saying I should meditate as usual for the start of our lesson time, and then I was free. He knows that means I'll read.”

“He didn't say where he was going?”

Tris shook her head.

“Do you know when he'll be back?”

Tris nodded. “Late tonight, I think. Could... could you maybe leave a message with the people in charge of his rooms that he should come here as soon as he can? I don't want to go myself when I don't know what my hair is even doing.”

“Or course I can, dear. It will be all right.”

“And if it's not, well, you just chuck lightning at people until they pretend it is, right?” Briar said.

Tris glared daggers at her brother. “Oh? Remember the time you were sprouting lightning?”

“But I can't throw it a'purpose!” he insisted. “Plus, yours doesn't seem to be going nowhere. It's just sitting there, in your hair.”

“At least for now.”

Sandry looked thoughtful. “If you wove some of your lightning together as a sort of cloth, would the rest of the lightning stay behind it?”

Tris stared at Sandry, then looked down at the lightning in her hand. It was still dancing around her fingers. Staying in one place wasn't something lightning seemed to do: it was the movement of energy that made it, after all. “How?”

“Well, Daja's fire-weavings-”

“Not that kind of how, how do I make lightning act like thread?”

“Maybe if I work through you?”

Lark interrupted them. “If you're going to start playing with magic you've never tried before- that, no one has ever tried before, you need a protective circle first.”

“So that if we blow ourselves up, we only blow ourselves up?” Tris asked.

“Exactly.” That was Rosethorn. “No taking others with you while you attempt the impossible.”

Sandry looked at Rosethorn. “Why would it be impossible?”

Rosethorn looked at Lark, then at Sandry. “Lightning burns thread. Thread mages shouldn't be able to weave with it.”

“What about fire?” Briar insisted. “She wove that.”

“Which should also be impossible,” Rosethorn informed them. “If you four didn't have a history of impossible, your answer would be 'Don't even think about it.'”

Tris rubbed her forehead. “And the problem I'm having right now?”

“Also impossible. Or it should be.”

“Great.” Tris said. “We're going to make a protective circle so we can try something impossible to fix a problem that's impossible to have, and the only reason you're letting us do it is because of other impossible things. Sound about right?”