116
" What the hell was that?” he asked no-one in particular. “Did they ram us?”
“Uh – negative, sir.” Marnetti offered, reading an instrumental assessment from his display, “It seems we were hit by some kind of pulse wave generated by their jump.”
“Their jump? – You mean by arriving they nearly killed us?”
Marnetti nodded, continuing, “Range 0.5 kilometers, Captain. Holding steady. No recognized weapons activity.”
“Damage report.” He ordered, feeling his way back into his seat, eyes glued to the viewscreen.
“Shield 2 down, 1 is buckling.” Pluddeman choked.
“Power stable, all systems holding steady,” Marnetti added, now rubbing some bruises.
“Any communications?”
“Nothing, sir. Static on all frequencies.”
“What are they doing?”
“Nothing, sir. Waiting maybe.”
“Waiting, my ass!” Dayne barked. “They must be sizing us up! "
― Christina Engela , Space Sucks!
119
" But that wouldn't be honest. That wouldn't be real. That would give you the idea that a life is a simple thing to tell, that it's obvious where to start--BIRTH--and even more obvious where to stop--DEATH. Fade from black to black.
I won't have it. I won't be one of the hundreds telling you that being alive flows like a story you write consciously, deliberately, full of linear narrative, foreshadowing, repetition, motifs. The emotional beats come down where they should, last as long as they should, end when they should, and that 'should' come from somewhere real and natural, not from the tyranny of the theatre, the utter hegemony of fiction. Why, isn't living easy? Isn't it grand? As easy as reading aloud.
No.
If I slice it all up and stitch it back together, you might not understand what I've been trying to say all my life: that any story is a lie cunningly told to hide the real world from the poor bastards who live in it. I can't. I can't tell you that lie...
If I fixed it so time goes the way you expect, you might come away thinking I know what the hell I'm doing. "
― Catherynne M. Valente , Radiance
