
I Speak with a Thousand Voices
#ScienceFiction #NativeInnovation #IndigenousFutures

“Black Cat.” Entry 01: two anecdotes that led me to this story
Two moments sparked Black Cat: my son’s class turned drawings into a cash economy, then invented a new currency from pencil shavings; and later, I found our dog Watson “alive” again inside Roblox. This entry is my notebook for a story about how participatory games train kids in status, accumulation, and constant buying, while mutual aid fades into the background.
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I Speak with a Thousand Voices
#ScienceFiction #NativeInnovation #IndigenousFutures

“Black Cat.” Entry 01: two anecdotes that led me to this story
Two moments sparked Black Cat: my son’s class turned drawings into a cash economy, then invented a new currency from pencil shavings; and later, I found our dog Watson “alive” again inside Roblox. This entry is my notebook for a story about how participatory games train kids in status, accumulation, and constant buying, while mutual aid fades into the background.
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I believe science fiction belongs, first and foremost, to the people who read it. That’s why it’s not enough to write about alternative futures or to declare a “free” science fiction in the abstract. If we truly want to imagine other worlds, we have to intervene in how art and knowledge circulate. In other words, we need to challenge the publishing system not only with ideas, but with concrete actions. That’s why I want to choose different infrastructures to reach readers.
That’s why I’m choosing an onchain publishing platform. Because the medium is also the message.
In recent years, as a writer and editor with an openly anti-authoritarian lens, I’ve been invited to panels and forums in different countries to talk about diverse, politically committed speculative realities: Dubai, Indonesia, China, Brazil, Italy, Finland. In all of those spaces, I’ve noticed a real enthusiasm for changing the tone with which we imagine the future, and an urgent need to find real tools to turn that imagination into strategy.
But there’s a contradiction that keeps repeating itself. We want freer futures, while much of the literature trying to open those futures up remains trapped in contracts and distribution systems that limit its reach. This isn’t about demonizing publishers or denying their value (I publish with different traditional presses myself). The problem arises when exclusivity or material constraints end up holding the work hostage and pushing it away from alternative, open-access spaces where it could find some of its best readers.
Paragraph will be my base going forward. I want to build a living archive of my work here, both what’s already been published and what remains unpublished. I want this place/non-place to function as a repository and also as a laboratory for reflecting on “other” futures—those that rebel against dystopian pessimism and understand anticipatory literature as an exercise in freedom.
We live in uncertain times. Today, more than ever, science fiction has the responsibility to take a side and become an act of resistance.
I believe science fiction belongs, first and foremost, to the people who read it. That’s why it’s not enough to write about alternative futures or to declare a “free” science fiction in the abstract. If we truly want to imagine other worlds, we have to intervene in how art and knowledge circulate. In other words, we need to challenge the publishing system not only with ideas, but with concrete actions. That’s why I want to choose different infrastructures to reach readers.
That’s why I’m choosing an onchain publishing platform. Because the medium is also the message.
In recent years, as a writer and editor with an openly anti-authoritarian lens, I’ve been invited to panels and forums in different countries to talk about diverse, politically committed speculative realities: Dubai, Indonesia, China, Brazil, Italy, Finland. In all of those spaces, I’ve noticed a real enthusiasm for changing the tone with which we imagine the future, and an urgent need to find real tools to turn that imagination into strategy.
But there’s a contradiction that keeps repeating itself. We want freer futures, while much of the literature trying to open those futures up remains trapped in contracts and distribution systems that limit its reach. This isn’t about demonizing publishers or denying their value (I publish with different traditional presses myself). The problem arises when exclusivity or material constraints end up holding the work hostage and pushing it away from alternative, open-access spaces where it could find some of its best readers.
Paragraph will be my base going forward. I want to build a living archive of my work here, both what’s already been published and what remains unpublished. I want this place/non-place to function as a repository and also as a laboratory for reflecting on “other” futures—those that rebel against dystopian pessimism and understand anticipatory literature as an exercise in freedom.
We live in uncertain times. Today, more than ever, science fiction has the responsibility to take a side and become an act of resistance.
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