Tag: scifi

To be clear: I am in no way suggesting that IKEA may pose an existential threat to the fabric of reality

My latest horror story, “The Nölmyna,” is now officially published and free to read on Reactor: https://reactormag.com/the-nolmyra-david-erik-nelson/

A few months back I hung out with Ann VanderMeer, who edited this story for Reactor, at a conference in Florida. We ended up talking about Grady Hendrix, and I mentioned that this story sort of arose out of my frustration with Hendrix’s first book, Horrorstör. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with that book—which I really liked—just that it wasn’t the story I would have written about IKEA. This one is. 

I’ve spoken before about how much of my writing (and, I believe, much of art in general) arises from frustration that some artist Isn’t Doing It Right, Dammit!™. That’s certainly the case here: I wrote “The Nölmyna,” in part, because Hendrix hadn’t Done It Right, Dammit!™, and so I’d better just jump in and take care of that.

But it wasn’t until this morning that it dawned on me how deeply unreasonable it was for me to pick up Horrorstör and expect it to be the story I expected, because I have deeply weird feelings about IKEA that are simply not the norm:

Almost 20 years ago I was diagnosed with panic disorder with agoraphobia. This is well managed now, but I continue to struggle with certain public spaces, especially those like IKEA: cavernous places that have poor sight lines, lots of people, no windows, and obtuse wayfinding. I can function in these places, but I experience dissociation and depersonalization, intrusive thoughts, a free-floating dread, and pretty much would rather be anyone or anyplace else. If you’ve ever been too stoned on too much edibles, you’re in the ballpark. 

IKEA is the seat of cosmic horror for me. This morning it dawned on me that maybe other people don’t experience this. Like, when I say “I hate IKEA,” what I mean is “When I’m in IKEA, I often feel like it would be better to stop breathing and being alive anymore.” I’m beginning to suspect when other people say “I hate IKEA,” they just mean “it’s crowded and weirdly stuffy” or “that furniture only holds up half the time” or “my partner and I always get in arguments there about lamps.”

Anyway, the publisher’s legal team very nicely asked me not to call the store “IKEA” in this story. But it’s IKEA. This story is about the true nature of IKEA and the distinct possibility that, through no fault of their own, they are creating the conditions for the absorptive annihilation of All of Everything by an Eminent and Imminent Immanence.  You’ve been warned.

This might be an extremely important short story to read right now

“In My Country” by Thomas Ha in Clarkesworld magazine.

As an aside, and totally unrelated to why this is an important story (and especially so right now), this piece both explains and perfectly epitomizes why I love the stories I love, and what’s missing from those I don’t love, for whatever that is worth.

Cyberpunk is Gen X’s “populuxe”—or using aesthetics to predict the future

Burning Chrome was a favorite of mine in the mid-1990s, when I first read the title story in an Oxford sci-fi anthology I found for a couple bucks at a used bookstore.

Cover art for William Gibson's short story collection BURNING CHROME. Shows a pixelated blue/grey hued bust of a human figure.

Before that decade (and century, and millennium) was done, I’d read every one of these stories more than once, fascinated with the future Gibson painted, one I could see just around the corner. Some of these stories (like “Johnny Mnemonic” and “Burning Chrome” and “Dogfight”) I read over and over and over again. The best of these (esp. those last two) are really solid, tight, classic noir tales (albeit ones modeled after Jim Thompson’s The Grifters more than Dashiel Hammett’s gumshoes). The rest are, at best, stylistic sketching exercises; they more often have punchlines than plots. Gibson wrote all but three of these stories before Neuromancer, his debut and breakout novel (published in 1984.) Prior to 1982, Gibson doesn’t appear to have precisely known what a plot is. I’m not sure he’d argue with me on that; he’s said himself that although he’d been writing “stories” since the 1970s, the first one that was actually a proper story was ”Burning Chrome” (published in 1982, and basically a prototype for Neuromancer).

Cyberpunk is a future that looks an awful lot like the past, especially now (although even then, Gibson was firmly rooted in the past, sometimes formally—as with “The Gernsback Continuum”, other times more subtly, as with the noir plots he gravitates toward, and which become the heist/resistance themes that seem to form the skeleton of most cyberpunk stories still).

I’m old now, and Gibson, it turns out, is to me what Hugo Gernsback/1950’s “Populuxe“/Frank Frazetta/“Googie”/Eero Saarinen were to him. I think it’s appropriate that these are primarily visual artists and movements: Gibson has always been more of a visual artist and stylist than a writer, despite how culturally and politically prescient his writing has been. I’m given to wonder if that is why he’s proven so upsettingly accurate in his predictions (which I don’t think he thought of as predictions at all): the “Deep Pilot” might express itself in words, but runs its pattern matching on a purely aesthetic basis. We may be talking apes today, but at heart we will always be the monkeys that first daubed paintings of the world we hoped—or feared—we’d soon see on French cave walls.

“The future is already here — it’s just not very evenly distributed.”

William Gibson

The bravest and most horrifying book I’ve read in ages

Before this year, I had no clue The Power or Naomi Alderman existed—despite the acclaim the book met when it was published in 2016, and the fact that its apparently been made into an Amazon mini-series starring Toni Collette, who I absolutely love. A colleague in a crit group read a story I was working on, and recommended I read this. She was absolutely right.

Cover are for the near-future scifi dystopia novel THE POWER by Naomi Alderman shows red hand print overlayed with a winding root-like/lightning-0like pattern in grey.

When I say this is the bravest and most horrifying book I’ve read in ages, I’m not exaggerating. I actually had to stop about 10 minutes from the end because I was in a Thai restaurant in Orlando and was on the verge of bursting into tears, and didn’t want everyone staring at me. This book is easily better, and darker, than Atwood’s Handmaid’s Tale (both a book and artist I hold in hella high regard).

One clarification: when I told my wife that this book was the bravest and most horrifying thing I’d read in years, she totally misunderstood what I found horrifying in the book. She assumed I was upset by the rapes. There are several very graphic and traumatic rapes of men by women in this novel, as well as broader sexual subjugation of men.

Frankly, none of that really bothered me. I’ve read fictional depictions and non-fictional accounts of the rapes of men and boys that I’ve found more upsetting. Talk to anyone who’s worked for child protective services and you’ll hear an earful. Humans are, on balance, awfully creative when it comes to being awful.

What got me about this book is that, evidently and despite it all, there was some small part of me that had continued to really and deeply believe that “everything would be better if women were in charge.” Alderman meticulously dismembered and violated that foolish, optimistic child that was still hiding inside me.

Sketch of the Week: The Whole Damn Week! (Week 8, 2025)

My son insisted that every sketch from last week had a claim on Sketch of the Week. While I wouldn’t go as far as him, I’m not gonna lie: I was really pleased with this batch, esp. Monday (“Warrior”), Thursday (“Shadow Dancer”), and Friday (“The Terror of Jim Carrey”)

An open spread in my journal showing a week's worth of pencil sketches. These are a strong female warrior holding a staff and with one foot set on a box (Monday's sketch), a crouching swordsman ready to strike (Tuesday's sketch), the snowy ruins of the Ahmeek Stamp Mill in Michigan's far northern Keweenaw Peninsula (Wednesday), a ballet dancer arched back to just touch a wall, subtly mirrored by her pale shadow (Thursday), and a terrified and terrifying attempt to capture Jim Carrey mugging for the camera (Friday)

Monday: “Warrior”—This is based on a photo I found on Pinterest, a platform that I’m embarrassed to admit I’m really liking, as it’s proving to be a really good source of reference images. I love the strength of that pose! There’s a lot I failed to capture here—the original model is quite muscular, while mine is almost gaunt; the original pose has this nearly bone crushing hauteur, and mine is almost contemplative—but I was really pleased with the strength in her stance, and I captured that. She feels unmovable, like a dolmen. This is definitely the best all around drawing from the week, according to my son, who really liked the values and shadow shading.

Tuesday: “Swordsman”—Another Pinterest find. My son really loved the dynamism of the pose and the economic capturing of the back muscles. I went after it because I found the pose both interesting, but challenging to make legible.

Wednesday: “The Ahmeek Stamp Mill Ruins”—This is a real place near where my son goes to university. The reference was a photo I took when we were visiting him a couple weeks back, and the ruins were buried in about four feet of snow. He really loved the subject matter, and thought I captured it well. I disagree, but it’s such a mind-bendingly weird place, I’m pleased I did as well as I did. I’m planning to take another stab at it in a larger format, and hopefully with watercolor.

Thursday: “Shadow Dancer”—A benefit of Pinterest is that it’s sent me in new directions looking for reference photos. It had not dawned on my before to look for dancers, but Pinterest is full of photos of them from all sorts of sources, and dancers strike some incredible and gnarly poses; such great monster and eldritch being fodder! This one is more abstract and less eldritch, but I loved what her shadow was doing on the wall.

Friday: “The Terror of Jim Carrey”—I modeled this off of a relatively famous set of pics of Jim Carrey. It’s not a good drawing of Jim Carrey, and it isn’t even really a good drawing of the actual gesture he’s making, which is a sort of mugging cartoonish surprise. But jesus!, what I got on the page was arresting; it captures legitimate terror for me in a way I’m having trouble articulating. I find that tiny scribble so goddamned disturbing, I’m fascinated.

A Canticle for Leibowitz ★★★★★

(I do a fair bit of reading, which I track over on Goodreads. Trying to move some of that value over here, prior to the inevitable enshitification.)

This is a re-read (or really a re-listen for me). The first time I read A Canticle for Leibowitz I was maybe 17 at the oldest, so almost three decades ago now. Reading old books is a comfort, because it reminds us that even our most painfully modern woes—A.I.! Self-driving cars! A broad American passion for alluring misinformation coupled to a contempt for facts spoken by the “wrong” side!—were old and well-worn decades before I was born. This books is from 1959, and it’s third section literally opens with a guy working in his office and getting super frustrated with the malfunctioning A.I. he’s trying to dictate a letter to. Soon thereafter he and his subordinate have to dodge autonomous semis while crossing the street to get to the cafeteria. 😂

Setting aside Canticle‘s mild antisemitism(*), it’s refreshing to read religion in a scifi book written by someone who doesn’t have contempt for religion, but neither idealizes it, either. Miller (who I understand to have been a devout Catholic by the time he wrote the novel) respects that religious institutions, like any and all institutions, are political and can be petty, because they are operated by humans (who are political and petty). But he also highlights that religious institutions aren’t *just* petty political vehicles. He acknowledges the reality that people don’t cleave to religion out of fear or contempt or cruelty or because they hate the Other, but rather out of love and comfort and, believe it or note, a true and legitimate desire to bring about a good and just world.

We have religion in America now—right alongside our malfunctioning A.I. and glitchy self-driving cars. We’re gonna have it in the future. It’s absence in scifi is as weird and non-credible as the bizarrely small number of Black people in the Detroit depicted in Robocop.

(*) A “Wandering Jew” character plays a major supporting role in all three sections of this A Canticle for Leibowitz. I think enough people categorize the “Wandering Jew” as a foundational antisemitic trope that this should be a fairly non-controversial opinion. But I also know how the Internet works, so if you’re legit interested in discussing what precisely reads as antisemitic to me in this novel, feel free to reach out. Happy to chat.

Know Some Nerds? Wanna Give ’em Books as Gifts?

I write horror, SF, and DIY stuff—occasionally in book form. If you want autographed/personalized copies for your lovelies this holiday season, I can help!

Here’s the rundown on what I’ve got on hand:

  • Snip, Burn, Solder, Shred: Seriously Geeky Stuff to Make with Your Kids: Just like the title promises. A weird range of projects: Tickle boxes that shock you, PVC didgeridoos, sock squids, and more.
  • Junkyard Jam Band: DIY Musical Instruments and Noisemakers: Again, we like titles that make description redundant. These are oddball little homebrew instruments and effects: an electric ukulele, a synth or two, thumb pianos, lofi audio effects, etc.
  • There Was No Sound of Thunder: A Time Portal Novel: Fresh out of college Taylor lucks into a cushy job in human resources. Now he’s tangled up with dishonest bosses, domestic terrorists, meth dealers, the “Problem of Too Many Hitlers,” and threats to space-time integrity. What’s a fella to do?
  • There Was a Crooked Man, He Flipped a Crooked House (a cosmic horror novel): Downtrodden Glenn and his none-too-bright sidekick Lennie work for a crooked real estate baron flipping houses in downtrodden Detroit. But this latest flipper has some odd geometry, a really off library—and a knack for keeping itself occupied.
Limited Offer: Autographed and Personalized Books!

🚨 LAST CHANCE🚨 to get “There Was No Sound of Thunder: A Time Portal Novel” for 99-cents!

My latest darkly comic scifi novel goes to full retail price tomorrow; get it while it’s still cheaper than basically anything else you might treat yourself to:

“An intriguing take on minimum wage employment and how it can be made to pay.”

John Fairhurst

What if your great new job had dire consequences for space-time integrity?

Fresh out of college and unsure what’s next, Taylor has lucked into a cushy job in human resources. Most companies keep costs down by outsourcing and off-shoring. Taylor’s bosses are different. They’re committed to staying “100% MADE IN AMERICA”—by bringing in cheap labor using a time portal. But their latest batch of “New Guys” aren’t like the others… 

“The movie pitch to the Sci-Fi Channel would be Breaking Bad meets Connie Willis’s The Doomsday Book. If this all sounds a bit grim it is anything but. Like Breaking Bad this has a strong streak of black humour running through it and is very entertaining.♥♥♥+”

SF Magazines

Can Taylor untangle himself from corporate HR, domestic terrorists, the problem of “Too Many Hitlers,” and threats to space-time integrity?

Cover art for "There Was No Sound of Thunder: A Time Portal Novel" Shows a young man in business attire silhouette against a high straight-walled passage, facing down the flaming concentric rings of a time portal.

“The big pleasure of this story is watching all the pieces come together. Rating: ★★★★★ Fun story with a sophisticated plot.”

Rocket Stack Rank

“There Was No Sound of Thunder: A Time Portal Novel” Now Available for 99-cents!🙀

My latest time portal novel is now on sale for just 99-cents (cheaper than the cheapest cup of coffee). 

“An intriguing take on minimum wage employment and how it can be made to pay.”

John Fairhurst

What if your great new job had dire consequences for space-time integrity?

Fresh out of college and unsure what’s next, Taylor has lucked into a cushy job in human resources. Most companies keep costs down by outsourcing and off-shoring. Taylor’s bosses are different. They’re committed to staying “100% MADE IN AMERICA”—by bringing in cheap labor using a time portal. But their latest batch of “New Guys” aren’t like the others… 

“The movie pitch to the Sci-Fi Channel would be Breaking Bad meets Connie Willis’s The Doomsday Book. If this all sounds a bit grim it is anything but. Like Breaking Bad this has a strong streak of black humour running through it and is very entertaining.♥♥♥+”

SF Magazines

Can Taylor untangle himself from corporate HR, domestic terrorists, the problem of “Too Many Hitlers,” and threats to space-time integrity?

Cover art for "There Was No Sound of Thunder: A Time Portal Novel" Shows a young man in business attire silhouette against a high straight-walled passage, facing down the flaming concentric rings of a time portal.

“The big pleasure of this story is watching all the pieces come together. Rating: ★★★★★ Fun story with a sophisticated plot.”

Rocket Stack Rank

Soviet-era animation inspired by Bradbury’s “There Will Fall Soft Rains”

If you’ve never watched 1980s Soviet-era animation, then this 10min Uzbek production from 1984, inspired by Bradbury’s “There Will Fall Soft Rains,” is a great place to start. Yes, it’s all like this, in my experience.

(Incidentally, I’ve always loved the poetry of Bradbury’s prose in general, and the opening line of this story in particular: “In the living room the voice-clock sang, Tick-tock, seven o’clock, time to get up, time to get up, seven o ‘clock! as if it were afraid that nobody would.” It’s like a super-sinister Goodnight Moon, a story that is itself already super sinister.)

Anyway, in case you’re wondering what New Year’s Eve 2026 will be like in America, here you go. Perfect for fans of Threads (1984), When the Wind Blows (1986), or whatever atomic holocaust shitstorm Putin kicks off next week.