Issue #11

Sept/Oct 2023

Edited by Justine Norton-Kertson & Brianna Castagnozzi

Solarpunk Magazine Issue #11

Edited by Brianna Castagnozzi & Justine

Norton-Kertson

Android Press
Cover Art © 2023 by Brianna Castagnozzi
“Interviews with an Oak” © 2023 by Ana Reisens
“Shelf-stable” © 2023 by Ellis Nye
“Sunshine” © 2023 by J.M. Faulkner
“Glow City and Soft Magic” © 2023 by Angel Leal
“Waterbird” © 2023 by Eva Papasoulioti
“Solarpunk Fantasy” © 2023 by Justine Norton-Kertson
“Suture” © 2023 by Salami Alimot Temitope

Compilation ©2023 by Android Press

Eugene, OR
ISSN 2771-2850

www.solarpunkmagazine.com
www.android-press.com

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval
systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
 Editorial Team

EDITORS-IN-CHIEF & NONFICTION EDITORS

Justine Norton-Kertson
Brianna Castagnozzi

FICTION EDITORS
Abriana Tuller
Moshe Siegel

POETRY EDITOR
J.D. Harlock

CREATIVE DIRECTOR
Hal Hefner

For more information on our editorial team members, please visit

solarpunkmagazine.com/editorial-team
 Contents

Get Solarpunk Magazine 2024 1

2023 Climate Fiction Conference 2

1. Editorial 3

FICTION 5

2. Interviews with an Oak 6

2. Ana Reisens

3. Shelf-stable 11
3. Ellis Nye

4. Sunshine 19
4. J.M. Faulkner

Mothersound: The Sauútiverse Anthology 28

POETRY 29

5. Glow City and Soft Magic 30

5. Angel Leal

6. Waterbird 32
6. Eva Papasoulioti

Books by Sarena Ulibarri 35

NONFICTION 36

Suture 37

7. Solarpunk Fantasy 38
7. Justine Norton-Kertson

Special Thanks to our 2023 Kickstarter Backers 42

Subscribe to Solarpunk Magazine 45

Other Android Press Books 46

Issue #12 Coming Soon 47
 Editorial

Welcome to Issue #11 of Solarpunk Magazine, our Solarpunk Fantasy special issue. I’ve personally been
waiting for this issue all year long, and so I’m particularly excited to be able to share with you the works
published by our most recent authors.
At its heart, Solarpunk Fantasy fuses the optimistic, environmentally-conscious vision of solarpunk with
the age-old mysticism and allure of fantasy. Where solarpunk draws inspiration from renewable energy,
sustainable cities, and green technologies, promising a hopeful future amidst the ongoing ecological crises,
fantasy brings its tapestry of magic, mythical creatures, and ancient lore. Together, they create a genre where
gleaming solar panels exist alongside dragon lairs, and where green-roofed metropolises are as common as
enchanted forests. Characters might summon the wind to turn massive turbines, or channel the energy of
the sun into powerful spells. This genre embraces the idea that technology and nature, when harmoniously
integrated, can lead to wondrous and magical outcomes.
The possibilities within Solarpunk Fantasy are vast and varied. Imagine a story where a druidic order
pioneers bioengineering, their sacred groves becoming the hub for organic technologies. Or a tale where
sea-nymphs and mermen join forces with human engineers to build stunning, coral-inspired underwater
cities, harnessing tidal energies. This unique crossover allows for narratives that are not only deeply imagina-
tive but also resonant with contemporary issues. By blending the enchantment of fantasy with solarpunk’s
forward-thinking ethos, Solarpunk Fantasy ozers readers a chance to dream of a world where magic and
sustainability coexist, ozering solutions and hope for the future.
Of course, solarpunk has always been rooted in a signiLcant and important aspect of realism. Because that
realism is related to serious global issues like climate change, it’s important that Solarpunk Fantasy doesn’t
trample on that. We should be careful about stories that center magic as the solution for climate if only for
the reason that problem itself is not fantasy. It’s real and it azects lives. That’s why it’s so, so important for
us to create practical, usable, real life solutions. But even taking this into account, Solarpunk Fantasy as a
genre has the potential to be a rich and fruitful sandbox for amaRing new stories. And with that thought,
| SOPAUNKMG ZAEA4IMJ ISSKJ #11

I’m proud to bring you Issue #11 of Solarpunk ZagaRine, Solarpunk Fantasy. We hope you enjoy the work
stories, poems, and art.

ustine Morton-Gertson
co-Jditor-in-Chief Solarpunk Magazine
 Interviews with an Oak
Ana Reisens

I t was a carefree evening in spring and the meadow grasses tickled with the promise of petals. A young man
rummaged through a rucksack in front of a giant oak tree.
“You remind me of her, you know,” the oak mused.
The young man found what he’d been searching for. He stood and held up a thin device to the tree, as if
asking for permission.
The tree chuckled. “Of course. I’d be happy for you to record our meeting in your mechanical memory.”
The young man grinned and pressed a shiny beetle-sized button. He carefully studied the grass below him
and sat down.
“Thanks for your patience as I was getting set up. My name’s Jonas. I’m a journalist. And, well… I suppose
you can imagine why I’m here,” he began.
The oak bent a branch ever-so-slightly forward.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Jonas soft-skin. And yes, I do have an inkling as to the reason for your visit.”
The young man stared up into the branches.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions to get your perspective on how it all started. A lot’s been happening
lately and, well… It’s about time the world hears your story. Our world, that is.”
“Yes. Although it may not seem like it, we trees know more about what’s going on in your world than most
soft-skins might believe.”
The young man smiled again. He repositioned his own limbs on the grass.
“OK, let’s start from the beginning, if that’s alright with you—your beginning. I’d like to hear everything
you remember from before you met her.”
“Oh, that’s a very good place to begin, indeed. One must have a beginning.” The leaves of the great tree
shook with a gentle laugh. “But I’m afraid there’s little I can share about my early history that will interest
you. We trees share a collective memory. Our history is the sum of many individual stories, much as you and
I are the sum of our cells…”
The journalist looked up quizzically.
“Yes, we know about the countless things your science has labeled over the centuries, things like the water
and wind and the soil,” the tree explained. “All this wisdom forms part of us, so you can imagine our surprise
when we realized that this is not the case with your species.”
The journalist looked down with a twinge.
“In the beginning, we all lived quite peacefully together,” the oak continued. “We o;ered you air and
shelter, and in exchange, you brought us water when the skies were dry and helped carry our seeds to new
lands. Our bark gave you medicineS our fallen limbs and comrades o;ered tinder for warmth and lumber to
build with. You took what we o;ered, and you respected our roots. Nome of you even worshipped us.
“But it didn’t take long for the soft-skins to want more. As you spread like ivy, so did your hunger. Noon
it became clear that we were needed for more dark and urgent purposes.”
 IETRV7IRWN WITH AE OAK G

The giant tree shivered. A single leaf ?uttered down and landed at the young man’s feet.
“I believe this is where my individual memory begins, centuries after the soft-skins had begun to take more
than the forests could give. Those were dark times, indeed. We trees refer to this as the Crey Age, a devastating
time when the very air tasted of poison.
“We were doing everything we could to clean it,” the tree explained, “but the soft-skins were intent on
replicating, on using every trunk for their insatiable creations, ignorant of the awaiting disaster. Noon they
were tearing deep into the sacred woods, the very lungs of the earth.
“But we trees know that the earth is greater and wiser than any of the species that call her home. As the
immense scale of her balance began to tip, so, too, did the softs-skins’ fortune. The waters began to rise.
Ntorms swept the land. The air became warmer, thicker. It spun with poisonous dust… and it was on these
particles that the disease began to spread.”
“You mean the Rpidemic!” The young man’s eyes grew wide.
“Yes. The Rpidemic began when tiny, perilous creatures learned to travel from feathers and scales to skin.
Meanwhile, the air itself brought its own destruction. Your su;ering arose from many acts of carelessness,
but we trees know enough about air to tell you that the true danger was already there, in those dark dusty
particles. The soft-skins were su;ocating.”
The young man gazed sadly at his feet for a moment before looking back up into the tree’s wide branches.
“Is that when you met Talia!”
“Yes. That was when I :rst met her. Vumors were seeping through our roots that the soft-skins had
surrendered. (ypresses outside the cities spoke of silence on the streets. They haven’t disappeared, they
warned, but this lull in soft-skin activity was enough. The air began to clear. The bees returned to the cities.
The world was silent—delightfully, intoxicatingly silent—and that’s when we began to sing again.”
The oak paused.
“That was when I met Talia. Nhe must have heard us one night and marveled at the strange and distant
symphony. Our music must seem tantalizing for those who are unaccustomed to hearing it…” the tree mused.
“And there she was, a thin sapling of a woman, roaming wide-eyed through the clearing,” the tree chuckled.
Nhe looked around the clearing, then up into my branches.
“Excuse me? Were you—were you singing?”
“Eow it was my turn to be surprised, because not only did I realize that the soft-skin sapling had heard my
song, but likewise, I could understand her. The maples weren’t going to believe this) I was startled but bold
enough to continueL
“Yes. I am the oak, and I hold vigil over this clearing.
“The young woman swayed, even though there was no wind. I allowed for a long silence, hoping that
perhaps this would permit her slow intelligence to understand. PYou must forgive me—it should be clear
that by this time we trees had developed a rather low opinion of soft-skin intelligenceU.
“But the young woman spoke.
“Um… Ah… she bumbled for a while, eventually stringing together a coherent thoughtL It’s—um—nice to
meet you? I just didn’t know—I had no idea—I had no idea trees could talk.
“But of course, I replied, puZng out my leaves. You soft-skins are just too noisy to hear us these days. A regular
brood of cicadas you are. However, I must admit… I had no idea your species has the capacity to hear us. You
understand this, don’t you?
“And so it began. We spent the remainder of that day asking each other questions. Nhe asked things such
as, Can all the trees talk, or was I the only one? I questioned, What does it feel like to have moving roots?
“By the time dusk swept over the sky, we had covered nearly all the essentials. I had learned, for instance,
that the rumbling in her trunk meant that she required nutrients. PThis was easy, of course. I simply asked
a nearby mulberry to give a good shakeU. I also learned that we had many admirers among the soft-skins,
9 NO#AV18EK MACAFIER INN8R –DD

although it may not have seemed like it at the time. And I discovered, likewise, that I truly enjoyed my time
with this soft-skin girl.”
“You’ll come back to visit me, won’t you? I asked. I’ve enjoyed our exchange and regret that I won’t be able to
visit your clearing, little one. My roots are unmoving, you see. But yours aren’t, and it would be lovely if you
could plant yourself here from time to time.
“0ortunately, the dear girl was delighted to hear this and agreed to return to visit the very next day. And I
believe that, young soft-skin, was the beginning of a lovely friendship.”
The journalist had been listening intently, occasionally taking notes on a ?at, pinecone-sized device.
“How often did you see each other!”
“Oh, almost once a day in the beginning. Nhe came in the evenings, just before the sun began to dip behind
the hills. We spoke for hours on countless subjects. Nhe grew to learn a great deal about our collective history
through my memories, and I grew to learn very much about hers.
“I soon discovered that she had been a very frail seedling,” the tree continued. “Those who planted her
had to keep her protected as a sapling in of greenhouse to make sure she would grow. I also learned that she
su;ered from a soft-skin illness that made it diZcult for her to breathe, and that important soft-skins in white
coats had told her to spend as much time as she could away from the city air .
“I’m not the only one, she had explained. It’s a regular outbreak these days.
“That’s why she had moved her roots here, you see, to the countryside. 0or our air.”
The journalist nodded. “And what was she like!”
“Nhe was a charming creature, Talia. No gentle, so quiet. 1erhaps that was why she was able to hear me, to
begin with.”
“We shared many signi:cant moments during our time together. I remember Talia had many beautiful
dreams. But her medical treatments were very costly and she had to limit her aspirations to pay for them. Nhe
spent a lot of time with those little devices you all seem to carry'” the tree gestured to the apparatus in the
journalist’s hands.
“(ellphones!”
“Yes, or something similar. Many calls, many voices. All day. It was just enough to pay for her medication.
But it all just exhausted the poor girl even more.”
The tree paused for a moment, as if searching for words.
“You and Talia would have gotten along quite splendidly, young soft-skin,” the tree mused, “0or as much
as her growth was conditioned by the silly habits of your species, she, too, commonly displayed her discontent
and desire to forge a di;erent path.
“I shared my concerns as well, of course. My fellow trees had been falling like autumn leaves for centuries. I
could still feel their cries in the distant veins of my memory. It made my bark ache. And even here the air had
begun to smell acrid, dangerous. The summers grew longer, and the spring soil tasted like swamp. We trees
were doing all that we could to alleviate these symptoms, but we simply couldn’t hold on for much longer.
“Talia listened with an empathy that would make a cedar proud. To feel so accompanied, so deeply
heard—it is the most any creature could ask for. I can only hope I made half the impact on her that she did
on me.”
A long, warm silence followed.
“@id you know that she maintained transcripts of your conversations!”
The oak rustled slightly.
“I was aware that she wished to commit our discussions to her memory, yes. The soft-skin memory is much
less powerful than ours, so I had assumed this was her means of preserving our discourse. I was unaware that
this form of memory collection could be shared until quite recently—”
The oak paused as a slight change in tenor came over its leaves. A warbler called out nearby.
 IETRV7IRWN WITH AE OAK

“Young soft-skin, may I ask you a question!”

“Of course.”
“The cypresses have been speaking of many changes, of a great stirring in the soft-skin people unlike
anything they have ever witnessed. There have been rumors of large gatherings in city squares. Nuddenly, the
forests have become quieter and my brothers have stopped falling.”
Another long pause followed, steeped in hidden meaning.
“Also, Talia has not visited for some time now,” the tree continued, “and one cannot help but wonder if
there is a connection.”
The young man stopped scribbling. There was a heavy silence, and the oak noticed a small drop of water
forming at the crease of the journalist’s eye as he began to speak.
“You’re a very wise and observant tree. You do your kind proud.”
The journalist cleared his throat before continuing.
“I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you that Talia is no longer with us. Nhe left the world just a few weeks
ago, after a brief time in one of the greenhouses you spoke of. I’m relieved to say she didn’t su;er, and I know
I speak for many when I say that she’ll be dearly missed.”
There was a long pause as both became lost in the singular re?ection of their species. The great oak, shaken
by the reality of such a brief and fragile existence, felt a shiver pass from its branches to its roots. It realized
it would take many seasons and many rings to soothe the ache of losing this special soft-skin, the girl who
rediscovered the song of the trees.
“And you’re right,” the young man said. “There is a connection.
“Just before she passed away, Talia reached out to several important people. Nhe sent them a unique digital
transcript. Nhe had been working hard during the :nal months of her life preparing this document that she
believed had the power to change many things if it was placed in the right hands. Nhe called it, Interviews with
an Oak.”
“I suppose I’m the oak.”
“Yes, yes you are,” the young man smiled. “Well, it turns out that Talia was right. The transcripts were
shared in powerful circles, and then leaked to our world at large. 0ew could have imagined what happened
next. You see, Talia had been very afraid that her transcripts would be misinterpreted. Nhe was scared that
other people—other soft-skins, as you call us—would just dismiss her account as madness, a work of creative
:ction, a story. A nice tale, but nothing that would lead to any lasting change. I have to admit that I was afraid
of the same thing when the text :rst started circulating, perhaps because we were all so ready for something
new, something magical, a change in the world at last. Instead, what followed was more amazing than any of
us could have ever imagined.
“Other people who had communicated with trees began speaking out. There was a man in 0inland who
had been talking to pines since he was a child. A woman in Brazil shared a series of poems written by a kapok.
1eople in (hina told of birch trees giving detailed instructions on how to reduce air pollution.
“It was a revolution, an awakening. Across the globe, stories came out about people who could speak to
trees and trees who could speak to people, in thousands of places and languages. It was impossible not to
listen. It was impossible not to believe. World leaders began to restructure the entire system, how our very
society worked. Our value systems shifted. Eew occupations emerged, like mine.” The young tree-journalist
grinned.
“Those who were unwilling to join the revolution were overthrown,” he continued. “The earth was
burning, and we knew you could help us save it.
“And I suppose that’s what’s happening now. We’re listening. We’ve begun working together with all sorts
of di;erent species of trees to turn this place around, to save the planet. I came to meet you because you’re the
one who started it all. You’re quite the celebrity where I come from, and I’m sure there will be more people
D NO#AV18EK MACAFIER INN8R –DD

coming to meet you soon. I’d be willing to bet that you’re the most famous tree in the world right now. But
don’t tell the kapok I said that,” he winked.
The oak, overcome by the blossoming truth of all that had just been revealed, grew silent. It connected the
bright lines between these revelations, and its great branches began to stretch and swell.
Yes, it realized, this was a revolution, indeed. Oh, but there was so much to do) The willows would be eager
to lend a drooping branch, of course, to stop the rising water. Oh, and the yews would have many ideas to
share about the air. They could begin to negotiate with the soft-skins to create a new, healthy world for all.
They’d do it for themselves, for the soft-skins, for the bees—for the health of every buzzing and blooming
and breathing creature.
They’d do it for Talia.
As the great oak sensed the brightness of a new future hovering like a sunrise blooming on the horizon, its
wide trunk straightened and its branches reached into the sky.
“How can I help!”

Ana Reisens is a poet and writer who spends a great deal of time with trees. Oaks, willows, yews - you name
it. You can :nd her work in Bracken, The Bombay Literary Magazine, and Sixfold, among other places, and
she s just about to :nish her :rst novel. You can follow her on Instagram at anareisenswrites.
 Shelf-stable
Ellis Nye

T he peaches were rotting on the ground, and the witch was two days late. It wasn’t like Ada’s village
was helpless without the witch or anything. They’d started drying as many peaches as they had storage
room for (Ada and some of the other kids were stuck guarding them as they dried), and they had already used
the spells the witch had taught them to preserve peach halves in jars. Ada wished they’d chosen some other
way of preserving the fruit; the peach halves were incredibly creepy and she avoided eating them whenever
she could. They looked like the body parts and mutated animals in jars that witches and wizards sometimes
kept in books.
Normally the peach harvest wouldn’t be this hectic—or this early—but with the freak storm that had
knocked too much of the fruit ox the trees and messed up the other crops paired with the summer cold that
made lots of the adults too sick to work, the village just couldn’t keep up. They were all waiting for the witch,
anSious that she was late, but still looking forward to her arrival.
Ada was pretty sure she was the only one not looking forward to it. Whe was scared of the witch, but that
was just because she was smart. Ritches were dangerous, and it was way smarter to be scared of them, instead
of being scared of fake monsters like the invisible óBnas that were supposed to live in the ruins of the old
city. That was the sort of thing the other kids were scared of. That and toSic waste and uneSploded bombs,
but those things were mostly gone these days, so whatever.
No one else believed that the witch was a witch, of course. The other kids said Ada was stupid for still
reading little kid books, that only babies believed in magic anymore. :ut it wasn’t magicM it was math. There
were twelve storybooks in the village library, and siS of them had fairy tales, which were Ada’s favorites
because the rules in them were so useful for everyday life. -ostly. (And they were for all ages; the librarian
had said so.) That was half of the books, or ?fty percent. There were witches in ?ve of those siS—about
eightyJthree percent—and in two of the other storybooks, or about thirtyJthree percent. :oth of those last
percentages had decimals that went on forever, which Ada thought was super cool, but also maybe a little
suspicious“ Ada could have kept thinking about the math for ages, but the point was that all of those witches
in the books had certain things in common.
The witch who came to the village (or, ?ne, Julia) wasn’t old, and she didn’t have green skin, or warts, but
only four of the books with witches—about ?ftyJseven percent—had witches that looked like that. ”ulia was
blonde, which was unusual, and it might mean that she was a good witch like in one of the books—about
fourteen percent. Whe had a big nose, like the bad witches—one hundred percent—but Ada knew that that
didn’t mean anything on its own, since there were nice people in her village who had big noses too. And
when Ada had asked the librarian about that, they’d talked at her for a long time about how sometimes the
people who wrote books had Ounconscious biasL about the traits they gave to villains. Rhich was interesting
but not really the point.
:ut ”ulia did dress in lots of black, and she carried around cauldrons and a spell book and she did magic.
Wo obviously, she was a witch. That was how it worked in fairy tales and fairy tale rules were usually true. Ada
FH WPUAóKGNZ -AEA#IN1 IWWG1 2FF

had used to think that they were always true, back when she was practically a baby, but part of growing up
was changing your mind as you learned more about the world, so now she knew they were only usually true.
Whe had tried to eSplain this to the other kids in the village, but none of them listened to her anymore. They
used to think that her stories and theories were cool, but in the last year that had changed, and now they
thought that other things (boring things) were cool instead. Whe had thought about trying her mom, but she
knew that her mom would nod, but then forget right away. Wo it was up to Ada to investigate ”ulia— and
defeat her, if necessary. Whe wasn’t sure how to do the second part, though, so she mostly just investigated.
In fact, she had snuck away from peachJguarding duty and was in the middle of more investigating, when
”ulia ?nally showed up. There wasn’t a lot of food in the village storeroom right now, since it was mostly eaten
up from the winter, and they were just starting to ?ll it again. It was slower than usual because they were so
short on empty jars; one day Zavi’s mom had walked in and found a whole rack of the empties broken on the
Yoor. 1veryone said that the shelf must’ve been wobbly. :ut there was still some food from last year, and Ada
was looking at it to see if she could spot signs of magic in the jars that remained. Whe had tried this before,
but she wasn’t clear on what that would look like. Reird lights, maybe“ Ada wanted to pick the jars up so
she could see better, but she knew that that wasn’t a good idea, since it would be so easy to break them. :ut
Ada didn’t want to think about the broken jars. Instead, she looked for a jar of the jam she and her mother
had made last week and donated to the storeroom, so she could wave at it, happy to see an old friend.
Ada could hear a lot of people talking outside and jumped guiltily, but they weren’t talking because of her.
Vrom the sound of it, ”ulia had ?nally shown up. Ada snuck out of the storeroom and turned the corner of
the building (well, really, she didn’t look where she was going and bumped into the corner like she always
did) to see a crowd of people assembled around ”ulia’s wagon, everyone talking at her as she climbed down.
O—because there was a massive tree down across the road,L ”ulia was saying when Ada got close enough to
hear. OI had to go back to Camdon to get help to move it.L
O:ut the road’s clear“L someone said.
O!eah, should be,L ”ulia said. OGntil something else happens, of course.L The assembled adults made a
bunch of eSasperated noises at that last bit. Ada bounced up and down on her toes a few times, weighing her
options. Whould she sneak away or let them see her“
ORe can send a repair crew out when things calm down,L said Aoife’s dad.
OEood idea,L ”ulia said. OThe road’s in bad shape. I know the Camdon qillage 3ouncil is thinking about
sending out a repair crew too, but I don’t know how far out they’ll range. -ight not make it all the way
here.L
:efore anyone could notice her, Ada ran around the outside of the storeroom, and went across the village a
little way so it would look like she was coming back from guarding the peaches. It was important to consider
the little details when you investigated something, according to the girl detective that she had read about.
Pf course, like he always did, Vrancisco immediately ruined all of Ada’s clever sneaking.
O!ou left the peaches earlyDL he yelled, drawing the adults’ attention. Vrancisco had decided that he was in
charge of the kids guarding the peaches.
OI wanted to go see if the w—if ”ulia had arrived yet,L Ada said.
OThen why’d you take so long to get here“L Vrancisco said.
OI got distracted,L Ada said, with as much dignity as she could muster. It was a good eScuse, because
everyone knew she got distracted all the time by all kinds of things she thought were cool but no one else
seemed to care about. Whe immediately thought up three dixerent eScuses, but Vrancisco 'uickly lost interest,
and the adults had already moved on.
Ada hung back from the rest of the crowd. Uuckily, ”ulia was busy paging through her spellbook and
pointing at dixerent spells she could use on the damaged peaches.
 WC1UVJWTA:U1 F4

OThey’re overripe,L Aoife’s mom said in response to something ”ulia said. OThey’ll Yoat if we try that.L Ada
had looked at one of the saved spell copies they had and it said that Yoating wasn’t bad; it would make the
peaches a little ugly, but that made the adults irrationally nervous.
O5o we have enough jars“L someone asked, and Ada bit her lip, hard. There weren’t as many jars available
as there should be, since so many had been broken.
Kointing at another spell, ”ulia said, OThis’ll reduce it down. A lot, speaking from eSperience. 1veryone
has to pitch in; it’s laborJintensive.L As the grownups nodded at each other and talked it over, Ada shu…ed
back and forth and debated leaving. Vinally, the grownups decided that they wanted to use ”ulia’s spell. ”ulia
nodded (so much nodding) and wrote the spell down so that the villagers could use it in the future. Pr maybe
it was a potion“ Ada didn6t know the dixerence between a potion and a spell—”ulia6s spells usually involved
cauldrons and boiling water. Ada felt that the books not including this distinction was an oversight.
In fact, ”ulia got one of her cauldrons out just as Ada was wondering about it. Wome of the adults went to
the well to get water and ?ll it up so they could set it on the big outdoor stove in the communal kitchen. Ada
knew it would take ages and ages to boil, even with hot stones, so she set ox to do something else.

Ada lost track of time reJreading the storybooks, trying to ?nd out how to defeat witches. None of the
material was helpful. That was the point, wasn’t it“ It was supposed to be hard, and you were supposed to
win by being clever and kind and moral. Not by ?nding a howJto book. Whe sighed and went to see what
was happening with the peaches. :y now, the water was boiling, and some of the older kids were cutting slits
in the peaches before throwing them into the cauldron. -r. 1dwards was using a big spoon to transfer the
peaches from the hot water to another cauldron full of really cold water. Then, some of the younger children
were peeling peaches. Ada was scared of ”ulia, but she was also bored, and there was basically nothing to do
eScept work on the peaches. Wo she joined the other kids and started peeling too.
Whe had to admit, it was pretty cool how ”ulia’s magic made the skin so loose on the peaches. The spell
was impressive especially because getting the skin ox of the peaches was normally a challenge. Whe had tried
once, with her ?ngernails on an unJboiled peach last summer, just to see. :ut now, the skin came ox so easily
that Ada and Vrancisco competed to try and see who could get it in one piece. Ada kept pulling too hard, so
Vrancisco won.
The kids passed the peeled peaches to the adults who sliced them and dropped them into yet another
cauldron. Wince ”ulia only had three cauldrons, they would have to wait for the ?rst one to be emptied before
they could use it for the neSt part of the spell.
Ada’s ?ngers were getting wrinkled by now, and ”ulia was starting to walk over to the peachJpeeling station,
so she got up and left. Ada decided that it was a perfect time to investigate, since ”ulia was distracted by
helping everyone.
Keople were used to Ada getting up and leaving when she got bored and never stopped her from eSploring
unless it was really important. Ada wove back through a few houses and snuck up on ”ulia’s wagon from the
other side. Womeone had led the horse away to do whatever you were supposed to do with horses, so Ada
didn’t have to deal with it. Eood.
No one was around the wagon, but since it was in plain sight, Ada would be seen if anyone was paying
attention. That was a big if, since people didn6t usually pay attention to Ada, or any details. It was a useful
thing for an investigator to know.
F7 WPUAóKGNZ -AEA#IN1 IWWG1 2FF

There were at least two ways she could do this—she could sneak in and look around, or she could walk
straight up and act like she was supposed to be there. Pn one hand, if she snuck in, no one would see her,
but if anyone did catch her they would know she was doing something she probably shouldn’t. If she acted
like she was running an errand for ”ulia on the other hand, they might see her, but not think she was up to
anything. The choice was obvious. Whe trotted up to the wagon, telling herself that she was there to get the
tongs, spellbook, or something like that. Pnce she was inside the wagon she would make sure to pick a target
for her fake errand.
The steps up to the wagon were still set up, which was good, because Ada was the secondJshortest of the
kids in her age group. This statistic, she felt, was unfair; both of her parents were tall.
Ada wanted to look around to see if anyone was watching her, but that would make it too obvious that
she was sneaking. Instead, she trotted up the steps, pausing for just a brief moment before plunging in.
The inside of the wagon looked nothing like Ada had eSpected. Whe’d thought it would be dark, gloomy,
and messy. There were supposed to be mysterious brews bubbling away (although admittedly all of ”ulia’s
cauldrons were outside right now) and probably at least one sleeping cat. Also some skulls, dried herbs,
mysterious jars of eyeballs, and other things like that. That was what a witch’s lair was supposed to be.
”ulia’s wagon was indeed full of stuff, but it was all organized. The shelves had handwritten labels and were
alphabetized, which Ada thought meant that something probably was wrong with ”ulia besides just being
a witch. There were bundles of herbs hanging from the ceiling but they were all herbs that Ada recognized,
like dill blossoms and rosemary. And there were glass jars full of things, and they did look a little creepy and
gross, but Ada had to admit that they were all things like peaches and pears and beans. -aybe if she s'uinted
that one was actually full of eyeballs“
An ominous machine lurked at the front of the wagon, and Ada would have thought that it was some kind
of torture device, but she had seen it in action before. It was de?nitely magic, although it also used electricity.
It dried things out, like mushrooms and berries. ”ulia called it a OdehydratorL and later in the year Ada and
her mom would borrow it to dry out foraged mushrooms and berries. Whe supposed that if you wanted to
do evil things with the dehydrator, you could probably use it to suck all the water out of something like a
kid—a small kid—like herD Ada shuddered in delighted horror.
Ada thought ”ulia might have left her spellbook in here so that she wouldn’t ruin it. Whe frowned. If she
were a witch, where would she keep her spellbook“ Krobably somewhere handy so that it was easy to grab
if she needed it in an emergency, like if someone was sneaking around in her wagon. There was a little bed
tucked away to one side and the shelf neSt to it was the most cluttered spot in the whole wagon. There were
two glasses of water, a wilted Yower, a pot of mysterious lotion, and a promisingly s'uare shape that might
be the spellbook. Whe bounced up and down on her toes ten times before deciding that she should go take a
look.
Nothing happened when Ada moved deeper into the wagon, so she kept going until she got to the shelf
by the bed. Wure enough, the spellbook was there. It was an old book, the cover mostly worn away eScept for
a few shiny bits that were too scattered for Ada to guess what it had originally looked like.
The ?rst section had information on the basic e'uipment for making spells—or potions. Rhatever. Whe
didn’t care about cauldrons, racks, and things like that. Whe saw that there were some pages that were a
dixerent teSture from the rest, so she turned to them in case those pages had the real spells. :ut they didn’t
have spells at all—they had photos. Ada had seen a few photos in the village before, but they were usually
of people’s grandparents or great grandparents, or pretty landscapes. These were all photos of food. The
photos were pretty, but also sort of gross and fakeJlooking—the food was all dressed up, like people during
the holidays, and arranged like art. 1verything was super close up and the colors were very, very bright.
Ada Yipped back and saw that there were some spells early in the book, before the photos, but they were
way too simple. There weren’t even any notes on what magic you used with themD Ada had seen spells like this
 WC1UVJWTA:U1 F‘

used in her family’s kitchen all the time, to preserve fruit by making jam out of it. 1Scept when it was in her
family’s kitchen, they were just recipes and not magic at all. Ada frowned. Rhere were the real, complicated
spells for all the magic that ”ulia used“ Whe paged through the spellbook, searching for them.
In the middle of reading through instructions for savory jelly, a hand fell on her shoulder. Whe jumped and
screamed.
ORhat are you doing in here“L asked Uee’s dad—the worst person to ?nd her, because he was suspicious
of everything.
O”ulia asked me to get something for her,L Ada said, remembering the lie she’d planned. Whe had completely
forgotten to pick something speci?cD Ggh. The spy book she had read said you were supposed to plan these
things in advance.
ORas it that book“L
ONo,L Ada said, truthfully. O:ut I got distracted.L
OThen what are you actually here for“L
OGm,L Ada said, looking around. Rhat was something that ”ulia would probably need that would make
sense“ OThe big wooden spoon,L she said, pointing at the wall across the wagon from where she was standing.
Rithout waiting for Uee’s dad to say anything, Ada went and unstrapped the spoon. The straps were like a
belt buckle and she had a hard time getting them undone.
OGhJhuh,L Uee’s dad said. OAlright. Uet’s bring the spoon to ”ulia together, then.L
ONoDL Ada said. OGm. I mean, you don’t need to. I’m practically a grownJupD I can go on my ownDL
O!ou most certainly are not,L Uee’s dad said, with a small laugh. OI need to head there anyway, so we can
go together.L Ada bounced up and down on her toes but she couldn’t see any way to talk him out of it.
OPkay,L she said, heading down the wagon steps and walking towards the center of the village without
waiting to see if he kept up. Whe eyed a narrow spot between two houses. Uee’s dad was big and she might be
able to s'ueeze down the alley and make a break for it. Whe started to take a step towards it.
OWo,L Uee’s dad said, stopping her in her tracks. Whe tripped over her own feet and then kept walking neSt
to him. Ce frowned down at her. O!ou and your mother like8 to forage, right“ Vind any interesting berries
lately“L
OPhDL Ada said, now distracted from making her escape. O!esD -om and I were eSploring the ruins of the
old city nearby and there were so many things ready to harvest. Uike juneberriesDL
OThat sounds delicious,L Uee’s dad said. ORhat else have you and your mom found recently“L Ada happily
talked his ear ox about all the weeds and old ornamentals that grew in the ruins of the city—because it was
what her mom called Odisturbed groundL—and what they had picked and when and what they had done
with it. Ce probably knew a lot of this, because a bunch of the food had gone in the communal stores, but
it was still fun to tell him.
Gnfortunately, this meant that Ada ran out of time to run away, and before she knew it, she and Uee’s dad
were approaching the cauldrons. ”ulia was just setting the ?rst one back on its ?re, directing people to pour
peeled, halved peaches into it.
OI just realized—I forgot somethingDL Ada said to Uee’s dad. Whe could feel her stomach rumbling, which
happened when she was scared, making everything worse and even more embarrassing. Cow were the villagers
not aware that ”ulia was a witch, and probably a bad one, since most witches were bad“ Whe still didn’t know
how she was supposed to ?ght a witch, because the only book with directions said to dump water on them,
and she knew ”ulia could touch water. That book must be wrong, or was maybe about a dixerent kind of
witch. Ada wanted to defend her village but she was just one person and she didn6t know how.
ORhat did you forget“L Uee’s dad said, skeptically.
OGm,L Ada said.
O!ou can go get whatever you forgot once you bring ”ulia her spoon,L Uee’s dad said.
F WPUAóKGNZ -AEA#IN1 IWWG1 2FF

OPr you could bring it to her,L Ada said. OAnd I could go get my thing.L
ORell if she asked you to bring it to her, then you should,L Uee’s dad said. Ada scowled, but before she
could think of a reply, ”ulia looked up and gestured the two of them over.
OCey,L she said, when they got close. OAda, right“L Ada looked down at the ground and bounced up and
down on her toes.
OThat’s right,L Uee’s dad said. OI found her reading your recipe book. Whe was sneaking around in your
wagon. Whe said that you asked her to get the spoon.L ”ulia cocked her head and looked between the two of
them. There was a silence that Ada thought went on for way too long8 which meant everyone could hear
Ada’s stomach gurgling from fear. Whe blushed, then, realizing what it might signal to ”ulia, started shaking.
The gurgle would betray her fear, make it obvious that she knew ”ulia was a witchD Now ”ulia was going to
turn her into a frog or something.
OThat’s right,L ”ulia said, and Ada’s eyebrows shot up. OThanks for getting that for me, Ada.L Whe held her
hand out and Ada stared at her before reaching out and handing ”ulia the wooden spoon. OAnd you can read
my recipe book anytime, all you have to do is askDL 1ven though ”ulia was a scary, bad witch, Ada was glad that
she had gone along with the lie. Whe looked up at Uee’s dad and stuck her tongue out at him. If he thought
she was still just a little kid, she ought to act like it.
OAlright,L he said slowly. OElad it worked out, Ada. And thanks for telling me about all the berries.L Ce
ru…ed her hair—ugh—and walked away. Ada started to try and slide away too.
OCey,L ”ulia said. ORhere are you going“L
OGm,L Ada said.
ORhat were you really doing in my wagon“L ”ulia said, leaning over her cauldron and stirring the peaches
with the wooden spoon Ada had just given her. Ada tried to escape again, but ”ulia looked up at her just as
she started to move. Ggh, Ada couldn’t get awayD It felt like she was in one of those nightmares where she
tried to run and couldn’t because her feet were stuck to the ground, but instead of her feet being stuck it was
”ulia making her stay.
ONothing“L Ada oxered.
OPh really.L
OI just wanted to read your sp—your book.L
O-y what book“L ”ulia said. Whe hit the wooden spoon against the rim of the cauldron, maybe cleaning it
ox before she used it to cast a spell on Ada.
O!our recipe book.L
OThat’s not what it sounded like you said.L
Ada swallowed, looking back down at the ground. Whe bounced. ”ulia was probably a bad witch, even if
she had lied to help Ada, and you were supposed to ?ght bad witches. -aybe if Ada revealed that she knew
the truth, ”ulia would be scared of her. Pr they would have a big hero vs. witch ?ght like in the storybooks.
And something would happen that would help Ada win because she was the good one.
The peaches made a wet, splatting noise and ”ulia’s attention strayed back to them as she poked something
in the cauldron with the spoon. Ada could probably run away now if she wanted to, but the stories all said it
was good to be brave, and Ada wanted to be brave and good. Also, maybe there would be good things about
being turned into a frog. Whe felt like she might throw up, but she looked ”ulia straight in the eyes and threw
her shoulders back.
O!our spellbook,L Ada said.
O-y spellbook,L ”ulia repeated, her eyebrows going up.
OThe book where you keep all your spellsDL Ada said, glancing around. ”ulia was probably about to lash
out with magic, but at least she could keep everyone else safe by drawing her ire. If they didn’t know ”ulia
was a witch, then they would be safe. Whe hoped.
 WC1UVJWTA:U1 F

Ada wondered if her mom and dad would miss her when she was a frog. Whe didn’t think frogs lived long.
OThe book where I keep all my spells“L ”ulia said.
OI know you’re a witchDL Ada said. O!ou wear all black. you have a big nose, you live alone, and you do
magic and potionsDL
OKlenty of people have big noses,L ”ulia said, which was not the point. OAnd I’m married, actually.L
OThat’s not the pointDL Ada said, stomping her foot. Weveral nearby people looked over, and she lowered
her voice. OThat’s not the point,L Ada whispered, and ”ulia leaned in to hear her. O!ou use magic powers
to dry food out and keep it from going bad, and you have spells for even more stux in your book. I’ve been
investigating. I know you’re going to turn me into a frog or something now, but someday someone else who’s
even sneakier and stronger will ?gure it out and then you’ll be sorryDL
”ulia’s mouth twitched. OI see,L she said. Whe looked at the peaches for a moment, then crouched down so
she was closer to Ada. OAnd why are you so sure that I’m a bad witch“L
O-ost of the witches in the books are bad,L Ada said.
O:ut not all of them“L
ONo,L Ada said. OAnd the one good one does have hair like yours.L
OWo why can’t I be a good witch“L ”ulia said. OAfter all, I use my magic’ to help people, not hurt them.L
OI guess,L Ada said.
OThen why are you so scared of me“L
O5unno,L Ada said, her eyes stinging. Whe was not going to cryD Whe was too old for thatD
O!ou don’t have a reason“L
OI broke the jars,L Ada mumbled.
OWorry“L
OI broke the jarsDL Ada said, louder this time. A couple of the adults nearby looked over, but ”ulia waved
them ox. OI had just started to think you were a witch so I was investigating in the storage room and I tipped
over a shelf of empty jars and they fell on the ground and they broke and I ran away and everyone thought
the shelf was just wobbly and it was but it was my faultD I knocked it over and they broke and now we don’t
have enough jars for your magic and we’re going to starve and you’ll turn me into a frogDL Ada bit her lip and
let her breath out through her nose. To her horror, a big glob of snot came out too and dripped down her
face. Cer eyes started to water and she sobbed as she tried to wipe it away.
OPh honey,L ”ulia said, pulling a piece of cloth out of her pocket. OThat must have been really scary.L Whe
tried to use the cloth to wipe Ada’s face, but Ada weakly batted her hand away. ”ulia drew back, then gave Ada
the piece of cloth so that she could use it herself. Ada loudly blew her nose into the cloth and then started to
dry her eyes.
OIt was scary,L Ada said. OIt still is. I wish you’d turn me into a frog already.L
O:ecause frogs can’t get in trouble for breaking jars, huh“L ”ulia said. Ada nodded. ORell I’m not part of
your village so I don’t know how much trouble you should be in for breaking jars. After all, they’re really
hard to replace. :ut the lids are the parts that are really hard to replace and they didn’t break, right“L Ada
snu…ed into the cloth and shook her head. OWo that’s good,L ”ulia said. OAnd I think it was very brave of you
to investigate me when you thought I was an evil witch. It can be hard when you’re the only one who knows
something’s wrong. I admire your spirit.L ”ulia wiped her hands on her skirt and stood up to stir the peaches
some more. OThat being said,L she continued, OI promise I’m not a bad witch. I’m not a witch at all.L
OI don’t believe you,L Ada said, mu…ed by the cloth.
OIt’s true,L ”ulia said. OI don’t use magic. I use science.L
OWcience“L Ada said, lowering the cloth and peering up. OI don’t like science. I like math. And stories.L
OA lot of science includes math,L ”ulia said. OThe recipes you saw in my book have precise measurements,
which are important. And you have to use math and science if you want to change them.L Ada eyed her. OI
F WPUAóKGNZ -AEA#IN1 IWWG1 2FF

like the science a little more,L ”ulia went on, Obut both are important for preserving food. :ut I promise, my
spellbook’“ That’s all it isD It tells you how things like heat and acid and sugar can keep food from going bad.
And the dehydrator works with science too. There are solar panels on top of my wagon that I use to power
it with electricity.L
OI know it uses electricity,L Ada said. ORe have electric lights and a generator in the town hall so we can
have evening meetings in the winter. I just thought there was magic too.L
OWometimes it feels magical,L ”ulia said with a laugh. OTurning something into something else—it’s kind
of like alchemy, you know“ 5o your books talk about alchemy“L
OPne of the ones I’m not allowed to read yet does,L Ada said.
ORell, alchemy was a madeJup science from a long time ago.L ”ulia said. OThis is real science. There are
reasons that these things work to keep your food good, and if you do the eSact same thing you’ll always get
the eSact same result. Pf course, in the real world, it’s hard to do the eSact same thing every time, because
there are so many variables.L ”ulia looked around—a number of villagers were watching with consternation.
Whe looked back down at Ada. OI think some of them heard you say you broke the jars,L she said.
OPh noDL Ada said. Whe wished her mom was here, but she had volunteered in the orchard today. To her
dismay, she started crying again.
OI think it’ll be okay,L ”ulia said. OUet’s go and tell them together, alright“ And I’ll tell them I’m not mad,
so you won’t get in as much trouble.L Ada crossed her arms and scowled. O3ome on,L ”ulia said. ORhere did
all that bravery go, huh“L
OI still want to be a frog,L Ada said.
OVrogs are pretty cool,L ”ulia said. O:ut can frogs learn science“L
OAll the science books in the library are boring,L Ada said miserably. ONone of it is like what you’re talking
about.L
O!ou could come and learn this science from me in a few years,L ”ulia said, gesturing to the cauldron.
OGnless you still want to be a frog.L
OI don’t know.L Ada laughed a little as ”ulia stood up and turned to face the villagers. O:eing a frog seems
awfully nice right now. And I’m still not convinced you’re not doing magic.L Whe lit up as she thought of a
new hypothesis. OIn fact, I bet you’re doing magic without knowing itD I’m going to come learn from you
and become the ?rstJever o cial scientist witchDL The two of them faced the villagers together and Uee’s dad
started forward, frowning. Ada braced herself for all the trouble she was about to be in.
OWounds like a plan,L ”ulia said, putting her hand on Ada’s shoulder.

Ellis Nye (any pronouns) is a scientist, artist, and writer. They can be found prowling the farmers markets
of New 1ngland, looking for discounted produce to buy in bulk for food preservation eSperiments.
 Sunshine
J.M. Faulkner

D eep in the mountain forest Silvellow, Idryssa was inspecting the solar panels and biotech lights peculiar
to the residents, rich and poor. Hamilton, the donkey responsible for guarding sheep on the common,
watched her suspiciously as she lumbered up a knoll with her mop and bucket, his jaw working a clod of
damp grass.
So, life as the town’s solarist wasn't all glamor, but it oWered some beneBts. She knew almost everybody
by name, nearly all four hundred of them. She knew their hobbies, which of their children preferred cats
to dogs, and occasionally surprised somebody or other by remembering their birthday. :ith every job she
outdid herself. In turn, they gave her hampers in the summer months, hot tea in the winter, and homemade
plum brandy all year round. Aest of all was the nickname these visits earned herT Sunshine.
xs she crested the knoll, panting and spilling soapy water, the sun bowed its face into the pines. xn
autumnal chill set in soon after that made her think of blankets, wooly socks, and hot chocolate. qhrough
the fence ahead, she saw something had been at the common’s carrot patch. Aut no time to speculate, she
waddled up to the luminescent disco tree with her bucket.
xs with any lady of an enlightened age, the disco tree’s miles were plain to see, though evident in the
te—ture of her bark rather than skin. qhat made her a nonetheless charming sight to those who fre-uented the
common to admire her aged beautyMkinked, thick, lumpy and gnarled. Aoughs forked from her towering
trunk and clawed skyward, ravenous for Bstfuls of cloud. xmongst the beech’s ?ame orange canopy, solar
lights and biotech leaves dotted her limbs, feeding to and from batteries buried within her roots.
Vost evenings townsfolk strolled around the common in couples. Some completed their pilgrimage with
a kiss under the disco tree. :hat was that likeP;
Idryssa wouldn’t Bnd out tonightT smoke unfurled from behind the pines, in the direction of “eneration
Nlateau” Silvellow was empty. She hoped to join the festivities shortly.
Aut hold up, wasn’t that dust coating one of the tree's gigantic, panel leavesP She sketched a frown in the
dust with her foreBnger. YJot again.G Hamilton ogled her from afar.;
YSee anything, HamiltonP JoP zou'd tell me, rightPG;
…ust yesterday, she and a bumblebee drone had given the tree a thorough clean. qhe panels needed to power
the town couldn't absorb energy eOciently if they were coated in debris. Jow Idryssa had no choice but to
go at it again, this time without the lu—ury of a drone. Hamilton, rather than answer her -uestion, chewed
his grass, eyelids heavy, mildly interested at best, and Idryssa wet her mop in the bucket and scrubbed.
Llass crunched under her boots.
xbove, one of the solar panels was smashed and a doRen biotech leaves dangled in claw print ribbons.
Vost peculiar. She told herself she would inspect it tomorrow, when she could borrow a drone from the
Depository, but when she spotted a ladder nearbyU
C‘ SKZxEN#J1 VxLx2IJ0 ISS#0 633

Solarists were e—cellent climbers, and Idryssa was no e—ception. In a blink, she was up the trunk and
inhumed in the canopy, although -uite shy of the F! meter peak. qhere was a jagged, roundish hole in the
solar panelU
She puWed the fringe from her eyes and thumbed the re?ective, prickly surface. 4ould the children have
been playing ball games againP ;;;;;
qhat would have made sense, but the panel was covered in the same gray black dust that had coated the
panel below.;
xnd something elseU
She pried what looked to be a tuft of fur from a glass shard. She rubbed it between her thumb and
foreBnger, staring wonderstruck into the broken panel. It re?ected the surrounding solar lights, the biotech
leaves that twinkled amongst the ?ame orangeMand the neon green orbs that pressed from the foliage
behind.
Jo sooner did she gasp than a ?apping, sooty mass battered her shoulder and crashed headlong into the
panel.;
qhe ladder swayed and Idryssa slipped. qo the sound of Hamilton braying, she twisted in mid air and
plummeted narrowly between the branches. She landed ?at on her back ;;;;;with an audible smack.
0verything went dark. She gulped air she couldn't breathe. Lrass wet her hands as she writhed and groped.
Her elbow, hadn’t it punctured the skinMthat thin, folding layer sheathing the bone from nakednessP
x thump in the mud beside her. qhrough bleary vision, she saw an abyssal face and orblike, glaring eyes.
qhe ambusher was vaguely childlike in stature, spreading an ebony cape that could have been wings.
Hooves clapped the ground. qhe creature startled at Hamilton’s bray and departed with a banshee like
howl that blew Idryssa’s hair oW her cheeks and showered her in hot spittle.
Idryssa lay there wheeRing, gaRing up at the disco tree’s lunar glow and the stars peering down at the
common. Hamilton nuRRled her brow and then sniWed the fur clenched in her Bst.

qhe ombudsman rolled the fur between Ris Bngers, attentive to the bristle like sound. 2ie was standing across
the oOce beside the bookcase, poking at treasured volumes. 0very time Rie hinged at the hips, Idryssa was
arrested by the fringe that caressed Ris face.
2ie said, Yxny witnessesPG;
Y:itnessesPG;
Idryssa Bdgeted in the chair on the opposite side of the desk. Her elbow sang a sharp note in the sling the
ombudsman had, just moments earlier, applied with e—traordinary care. Votherly care, even. xs best they
could tell, it wasn’t broken.;
She said, YUKnly Hamilton.G
YHamiltonP qhe donkeyPG
Idryssa oWered the scantest nod. She was e—hausted and confused.
qhe ombudsman wiggled a volume from between the others and, hiking Ris monkish robes above Ris
ankles, rejoined Idryssa at the desk. 2ie folded the fur into a hand siRed, drawstring pouch Rie had produced
from within Ris lapel. 2ie sat it on the book in front of RimMa leather tome.
:ithout any perceivable warmth, Rie said, Yzou haven’t taken a husband.G
:as it a -uestionP xn accusationP
 S#JSHIJ0 C3

Since becoming Silvellow’s primary solarist three years earlier, Idryssa had spoken to the ombudsman
several times. qwice she’d had dinner in Ris dome, in the drawing room with other guests. qhey had dined
on lab grown meat. Aut to say they were familiar would have been an overstatement.
Yxnd it’s not because you’re short of suitors, is itPG qhe ombudsman grinned shrewdly. Yzou must have
good reason to ignore Vagaia’s instruction to be bountiful. zou want to be an ombudsman.G
Idryssa puWed through her lips, leaving her breathless and empty. YWanted,G she corrected. Yqhe #niver
sity of Iloija, they declined my pledge.G
YKn what groundsPG
Yxccording to the test, I wasn’t ready to give up love.G She shrugged and smiled cheerlessly. Yxpparently
I’m a 7romantic’.G
YSo that e—plains it.G qhe ombudsman sank further into the chair, well pleased with Ris cunning. Yxnd
even now you seek to prove them wrong by not taking a husband. Aut the test e—ists for good reason” it saved
you.G 2ie sucked Ris bottom lip and s-uinted. YAut I admire backbone. I have an important job for you, if
you'll take itPG
xlthough she wasn’t sure if she wanted it, Idryssa nodded in agreement anyway. qhe night’s events were a
current, drawing her this way and that. She was barely treading water.
2ie looked down at the pouch and said, YIt's a chimeraMan unwelcome reminder of humanity's past, when
corporations spliced DJx for commercial gain. qhose that weren’t used up died out, save a few. qhis is a
splice of a moth, howler monkey and, rumor has it, human…G
YHuMG
YVorally bankrupt fools, the lot of them. qhisU moth was designed for covert operations in private
militaries, and the dust it sheds renders it undetectable to sonar. Nrobably why they haven't died outUG 2ie
became lost in thought, rubbing the chalky black patch left by the fur between his thumb and foreBnger.
YIt's unusual to Bnd one this far north, though. qoo cold.G
Y:hy am I only hearing about this nowPG
YAecause,G the ombudsman said, Ythe prevailing wisdom on the issue is the less said about it the better. Jot
to keep people ignorant, mind you, but to prevent unsavory ideas from circulating. Such things are disclosed
to ombudsmen in Iloija.G
YSoU Silvellow’s about to get a history lessonPG
YI’m afraid not.G qhe ombudsman’s Bngers emerged from under Ris heavy sleeve and drummed on the
tome. 2ie cleared Ris throat. Yx council member called a half hour before your arrival. Several sheep were
murdered last night. Due to the bludgeon like wounds, Hamilton has taken the blame.G
YI don’t see the problem.G Idryssa sat forward. Yqell them what happened. Hamilton is the only one
protecting those sheepMand me, as it happens.G
YI will invoke the Zaw of Dictator to block any harm coming to Hamilton. Kf course, this only forces the
council to debate the issue after a three day rest period, and they might choose to overrule my e—ecutive order,
as is their right.G qhe ombudsman gnawed Ris lip. YAefore they investigate, the moth must be,G Rie cleared Ris
throat, Yremoved.G
Yzou're talking aboutU theriocide.G
Yxs you well know, our neighbors rely on our wool to see them through the winter months. Silvellow’s
ewes are a rare breed bolstered by our agroforestry and solar panels, the -uality and -uantity of their woolMG
Idryssa cut Rim short with a raised palm. xs the solarist, she knew all about Silvellow’s solar infrastructure
and its mutualism with sheepT the panels collected moisture and wet the ground, the ewes graRed on weeds
that might otherwise obscure the panels from receiving electromagnetic radiation, and the panels sheltered
the ewes from direct sunlight and dust. qheir wool grew e—ponentially and the pasture remained green.;
Yºorgive me, Kmbudsman, but you’re talking about murder for tradeMthat’s a plutocratic crime.G
CC SKZxEN#J1 VxLx2IJ0 ISS#0 633

YIt’s necessary, Sunshine. :hat’s culling one animalMand an unnatural one at thatMto save the ?ockP It’s
no diWerent to pruning a sickly tree to ensure its growth.G
Idryssa’s throat closed, like a vacuum had sucked out all the moisture. Had she hit her head as well as
her elbowP She couldn’t connect the ombudsman propped in the chair with the tall, shamrock robed and
respectable Bgure who had charmed her with polite jokes and red wine just, what, four months earlierP
YJormally,G continued the ombudsman, YI would take on this burden myself, but tonight is “eneration
Day and I’m e—pected to close the celebration that started yesterday. qhe moth is nocturnal. :hen the town
empties this evening, you must act in my stead. 4ull it.G
YI didn’t study engineering for seven years to murder a sentient being for no good cause. :e’re the problem,
we created it, and I won’t be the one to put it down, not now and not tonight. qhis is our punishment sent
from Vagaia.G
qhe ombudsman sniWed through one nostril. Aut Ris grin was more sympathetic than mocking. YJow you
sound like one of those ecofascists picketing in Iloija.G
YAutcher–G
qhe ombudsman's mouth fell open, then Rie hung Ris head in a delayed attempt to curtain a wounded
e—pression. 2is fringe slotted neatly in front of Ris face.;
YSunshine,G Rie said, talking into Ris lap, Ywhen someone becomes an ombudsman, he or she must
renounce their gender and se—Msurrender all names, forsake all family, and take up posts far from home.
:e become unsullied by irrational loyalty, biases taught from birth, s-uash whatever trace of ego remains.
ºrom this 7Rero’, we give council. :e listen and inspire communities to grow, however lonely that path may
be.G
2ie peered through the slits in Ris fringe with perfectly androgynous features. Despite herself, Idryssa found
Rim painfully beautiful.
Y:e have a Bnite reserve of solar panels to power the town,G Rie said. Yx week hence, winter will shut oW
the mountain pass and resupply won’t be an option until spring. xs for our biotechnology, the damage will
take years to regrow.G
YI understand that, butMG;
YNeople will go cold,G insisted the ombudsman, Yif we don’t restore nature to balance. If we cannot see
ourselves as one with nature, we must at least be its shepherd. Jot everyone is ready for thatMperhaps
you aren’t either. Aut you know what’s happening and I must ask it of you. xnd if we can shepherd our
community without them sharing in our transgression, so much the better. qhis way protects them from
our burden.G
YAut however you frame it, this just doesn’t feel right. How am I even supposed to kill itPG
qhe ombudsman nudged the tome toward her. Yzou have all the information you need right here.G
Idryssa’s stomach ?uttered. She peeled back the cover and marveled at the C3st century pistol bedded in
the pages.
Yxnd if I refusePG she asked.
Yqhen the #niversity of Iloija was rightT you really are a romantic.G
 S#JSHIJ0 C!

Despondent steps ferried Idryssa up the mountain path overlooking Silvellow. She sipped the ombudsman’s
cup of plum brandy and admired the biotech street lamps ?e—ing their petals to soak up the rising sun, which
was then freshly touching the dome rooftops winking between the agroforestry below.;
qhe pistol buried in her satchel beat heavy and rhythmically against her hip bone. She could no more
ignore its demand for attention than a tutting theophany of Vagaia, warning injustice.
;She thought, How am I going to get out of thisP
xnd, Va, guide me.
qheriocide was an unacceptable, pre 0mpyreal xge solution to the town’s wildlife and energy problems.
4ouldn’t the ombudsman see thatP
Aut the nearest city, Nrahan, was some 3Q‘‘ kilometers away, through mountains and the perilously
frigid Aorg Sea. If the mothMhowlmothP HumothPMbludgeoned more sheep, the hamlets that relied on
Silvellow would suWer. If enough solar infrastructure was damaged, people would do more than go cold, as
the ombudsman had observed.
Zast …anuary, temperatures had plunged to C5 4.
xnd hadn’t Hamilton chosen violence to protect his ?ockP :ith the pistol, she could do the same. 4ulling
an animal shouldn’t be any diWerent from pruning a tree.
Jo, it wouldn’t do” she needed to think herself out of this corner.
xs a solarist, she had learned a thing or two about moths at university. qheir eyes inspired the technology
that allowed solar panels to overcome the Shockley ueisser limit, the theoretical ma—imum eOciency of a
solar cell. Zike other insects, they occasionally mistook re?ective panels for water, and they were also drawn
by infrared and ultraviolet light. So, that e—plained the moth’s attraction to the disco tree. Aut it didn’t oWer
up any advantage.
qhe Depository of Nheromones and ºlowers lay hidden in the mountainside, its entrance high up an
escarpment and obscured by pines. :ithout the facility, Silvellow would have been dubbed as a remote idyll
not especially worth the trek. Idryssa trudged up to the entrance and cast a mournful look back at the village.
Soon familiar faces would be milling around, tending the farms and preparing for “eneration Day, none
the wiser to the criminal path the ombudsman had set her on.
She tried to imagined their indignation, but what did it matterP qhe more townsfolk she knew, the less they
knew her, and the less she seemed to know about themMthey were bullet points, a Ble of carefully chosen
and referenceable facts whose recall stirred only a twinge of familiarity. xnd that was nice, to be accepted.
Aut spread so thin the welcome felt shallow and tepid at best.
How was she only realising this nowP
Inside, the receptionist greeted her with professional, semi familiar courtesy and handed over a key card.
qhe pistol knocking against her hipbone louder than ever, Idryssa hurried down the hallwayMonly, because
of her perspiration, it felt more like she slithered.
YSunshine,G the receptionist called, and Idryssa stopped. Her sticky with guilt heart galloped. YIf you're
renting a drone, bring it back before four o'clock. Nlease. :e're closing the tool library early for “eneration
Day.G
Aut Idryssa didn’t leave the Depository until after three. qhe building was deserted and she had spent all
morning marching around the stacks and vaults, sulking in armchairs and rubbing her injured elbow.
:hen Bnally she dragged herself outside, and the sun had begun its retreat behind the pines, her receipt
from the Depository readT
3. Aumblebee “!.3 Drone

a. ºountain Series sprayersT tri pack

i. 4hrysanthemum harvest pyrethrum

CQ SKZxEN#J1 VxLx2IJ0 ISS#0 633

ii. xrctiinae pheromonesT male;

iii. xrctiinae pheromonesT female

b. #ltraviolet headlamp

c. Infrared camera

:ith her toolset and education, this moth was dust.

qhe sky had deepened to a near night lapis before Idryssa slipped through the pines and reached the watermill
in town. qo her relief, only a few stragglers met her crossing the bridge. qhey bid her to hurry” she might miss
the bonBre lighting. She kept pleasantries to a minimum and whipped around under the pretense of catching
up with them shortly.
Silvellow’s biotech lamps ?anked the pebbled pathway that draped through and around the common in
loose, hilly bends. qheir solar, cycloptic eyes kindled a lambent, skin warming glow.;
Idryssa skidded to a stop and nearly went over her front leg. #p ahead, a sagging lamp blocked her view of
the common. zellow infusions freckled the bowing stem. It was dying. Vany more were wilted or lay crushed
in her path, their radiance ebbing. Sure, the Depository had enough seeds to replace them, but their growth
would take years.
zears that might cost lives.
qhe sheep were giving the already daRRling disco tree a wide berth. qhey looked like a cobweb strewn across
the common, pointing like a chevron at their attacker’s lair. Hamilton was nowhere to be seen. Her guts
clenching, Idryssa realised no one could stop the moth bulldoRing every lamp in town but her.
She kneeled in the grass, unRipped her rucksack, and watched the bumblebee drone come alive and beetle
up and out of the opening. qhrough its infrared camera, she spied what she hoped was the moth buried high
in the disco tree’s network of boughs, biotech foliage and lights. It was out of shot” that gave Idryssa time.
xfter instruction, the bumblebee spread its glassy wings and hastened to the sheep, then showered them
with a pheromone collected from male moths. qhe sheep bleated and scattered in all directions, but the drone
doused them until its store was depleted.
SatisBed, Idryssa ordered the drone into hiding and crawled behind the timber fence encircling the
common’s carrot patch. If her hunch was correct, the pheromone would trick the moth into thinking the
ewes were part of its groupT a lek. Should the moth stick its neck out, she could at least dispose of it without
fretting over the sheep. Aut could she do it before the drone got nailed, now the trap was setP
x guttural howl shook the disco tree’s foliage. Idryssa tensed at the shatter of a solar panel within. ºlickering
leaves rained from the canopy and littered the grass. qhe moth swooped down from the branches and into
the carrot patch, not more than a hop or skip from her hiding spot.
qhe greenest, ?ightiest irises Idryssa had ever seen scanned the vegetables from the depths of a coal coat
face, and Idryssa recalled nightmarish images from her school’s history te—tbookT orphaned workhouse boys
apprenticed as chimney sweeps in “ictorian 0nglish, every pore suWocated in soot, moonish eyes glaring out
of beetle black eyelids, lips sealed in dirtMchildren without voices.;
 S#JSHIJ0 C

qhe moth traversed the space between the tree and Idryssa’s hiding spot with ungainly and spindly limbs,
s-uinting this way and that. It plucked one carrot from the soil straight into its mouth, scooped up as many
more as it could bear, and bounded for the tree and safety.
Idryssa barked an order, and the bumblebee buRRed into the air again and ignited its headlamp, bright as
the moon.
qransverse orientation that’s how moths navigate. xnd while the light produced by a concentration of
biotech leaves might tempt critters in the absence of something better, the wavelengths produced by the large
ultraviolet lamp attached to the bumblebee were irresistible.
qhe moth howled and launched forward. qhe drone plunged and packed itself into a corner of the fence,
leaving the creature a single path of attack. qo the moth it must have looked like a cornered, cowardly
insect. Aut a note on the drone’s console informed Idryssa that the ºountain Series sprayer had switched the
pheromone can for the pyrethrum.
Nyrethrum, a natural insecticide harvested from the dried 4hrysanthemum ?owers. :hile doubtful it
could kill a moth of this siRe, Idryssa hoped it would at least disorientate it long enough to land a bullet.
She leveled the pistol as the moth collided with the bumblebee and a gush of pyrethrum. qhe drone cut
through the air like a circular saw and shattered against the trunk of the disco tree, several metres away. It
?apped a few beats in the grass, death throes, while the moth boomeranged into a fence post. qhe wood
e—ploded on impact and the moth skidded to a grinding stop an arm’s length from Idryssa’s feet.
She backpedalled, stunned. Heart thudding against her breast, she peeled back the pistol’s hammer.
qhis had better be the right thing to do.;
Holding its heaving sternum in one palm, the moth raked itself in the mud toward herMa revenant bent
on revenge.
xnd still Idryssa couldn’t shoot, couldn’t so much as kink her trigger Bnger. Her uninjured arm trembled
as bonelessly as the other in its sling. qhe creature lumbered in and out of her ironsight, chopping at mud
with its winged hands. Aut she couldn’t make herself do it, this murder. It didn’t matter the moth was an
abomination, so was the biotechnology she tended to daily.
She beaded the moth in her pistol’s sights until it slapped the weapon wide and sent her staggering onto
her buttocks. It drove her backward, scooting hand over heel, into the column of the disco tree’s trunk.
x shard of the bumblebee’s broken wing sliced her palmMshe winced at the coursing blood. Jowhere to
run. qhe moth roared and a torrent of warmth whipped the fringe from her eyes. qhis close, she couldn’t
possibly miss her shot.
qo shoot it dead.
#nlessU
She twisted on one elbow and pried at the can mounted to the drone’s sprayerT the female pheromone. qhe
clips issued a metallic snap. She pivoted around, thumbed the switch and bathed herself and the oncoming
moth in mist.
qhe moth yanked her so that they were nose to labial palps.
qhen it spluttered and lowered its Bst. Zike a monk placing a domino tile, with Ren and perfect discipline,
it e—haled and set her down. x tapestry of pensive emotions ?ickered across its face.
Idryssa did the only thing she could think to doT held out her still bleeding hand in what was, hopefully, a
universally ape gesture of greeting.
qhe moth cooed, dovelike, and brushed Idryssa’s cheek with coarse, hairy knuckles.
YSee,G Idryssa soothed, not making any sudden movements, YI won’t hurt you.G ºingertips, she returned
the creature’s touch. YAut we have to get you out of town before somebody else does. :ill you do thatUwith
mePG
CF SKZxEN#J1 VxLx2IJ0 ISS#0 633

0arly that morning the sunrise met a repellent forceT the smeared brown haRe of the dying Bres above
“eneration Nlateau. Vany had gathered on the mountain edge to admire the dawn teeming behind the
barrier. Aut Idryssa wasn’t among them.
ºrom her position on the bridge dropping out of Silvellow proper, the congregation in their wools
reminded her of lint scattered on the choppy lapel of the mountainsideMe—cept for the ombudsman. He
stood out, shepherd like, in his ceremonial and twinkling robes.;
2is face was indistinguishable, a thumbprint blotch on her panorama. She could read neither approval nor
disapproval toM
qhe moth tugged the sleeve of her elbow, bringing her around to the pine forest. Darkness hung from the
canopy within. If they could pass through the mountains and across the Aorg SeaU
qhen whatP
Y4ome,G Idryssa beckoned the moth, her lek mate, and threaded their Bngers together. Yqhey have
deputies to replace me.G
Sorry, Kmbudsman, but if this is Lreat Va’s willU
She glanced over her shoulder at the townsfolk, those welcoming neighbours who had opened their homes.
;In Ris greens, she spied the ombudsman waving a high and frantic farewell.

J.M. Faulkner teaches 0nglish in the 4Rech Eepublic, the perfect place to steep himself in a tumultuous
history that fuels his curiosity. Kutside of work, you can Bnd him hiking in Jorth Aohemian forests with his
4Rech Aritish family, 1at and …asper.
 S#JSHIJ0 C5

He has work published with Josetouch Nress, 4osmic Horror Vonthly, xllegory and 0erie Eiver. qo Bnd
out more, visit;jmfaulkner.com.
 Glow City and SoM gaci
Angel Leal

Lovers whisper in the grass about the city with two moons.
The blue shadow of their lips saying,
We’re going to Glow City

where bodies like ours aren’t broken, where the androgyny

of our faces glow in neon tea shops
& even the darkest alley

is safely lit with moonshine. There’s a legend told about the lost femme
who found a city of unspeakable beauty.
Forever night, she saw buildings

of curious shape & ceaseless light. She saw two moons swaying
& longing in the arms of the sky. Her body
relaxed as if about to pray

& a stranger who never sleeps lifted her o“ with their medicine hands.
”Hermana,W they said. ”?hat do you needA
?ater, a homeA G friendA

G dreamAW She saw in their luminous face a soft magic she believed.
She followed them & rested on the bed of their hands.
She breathed without pain

without memories.
She breathed.
 OLC? IYTN GDM SCFT 3GOYI 1/

Angel Leal is a Latinx, transUnonbinary writer whose poems have appeared in Strange Horizons, The
Deadlands, Heartlines Spec, Anathema: Spec from the Margins, and elsewhere. They’ve been nominated
for the Rtopia Gward, the Physling Gward, the zushcart zri-e, and are a coqadmin of IGLG3YTCRS, a
@ueer sciq_ and fantasy writing group. Nou can _nd them looking for two moons at angelqleal.comor oating
around Twitter orbiting angel
 Waterbird
Eva Papasoulioti

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ag p r etgcunhb ounh dsng

mnip p r zncarb aur gcng d az roaTk

Tnip ve ginHue g rc,b aur iprudi rd
vaT rHueb vrav e ud HarTtrhb
aur p trid TtrIHue tgh p teip,

xg p r qvtgd b aur , d r dibk

t enAunh g dib dp vraznh d Tti rbkk
Haah tgh ip h v yagg yinagk
Tnip t Tareh eadi tgh Haugh

B r sndd h dtengti d aur Tti r

dtgninf d aur dp id tgh hrn d aur
yeaip db aur i trdb hrn d
aur lag d tgh aur H trd

B r sndd vraHaughb p r Ilrty

yr,dite ye trb Ineenag , trd aehb
Ineenag v ave paeh p r ptgh tdk
dp ytr dd d ip nr enz d ng yr did
 mEWRDwxD3 ’’

Wp , dt,b Tp g ipnd trip Ttd ,augc

B enad ytr dd h Wptetddt tgh yr ti h ag
Tarehb ag Tarhb ag Tti rlnrhk
Har puItgni, ia vrai yi

Wp , dt, Tp g ipnd trip Ttd ,augc

ip lnrh o T ipraucp puItgni,Fd av g jgc rdbk
rtngotr d tgh dugdiarId dsngg h d tdb
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t rthnatyinz dvengik

mngcd g h ip dug tgh ip Tngh

Sar t lnrh ia o, ni g hd Tti r tgh ds,
Sar B enad ia le dd udb T g h h ia Itiur bk
Egh Har Wptetddt ia Harcnz udb T g h h ia thLudi
kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
l yaI ip yptgc

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ip d t Taueh dngcb ip dug Taueh lr tip bk
aur ynin d Taueh cr gb tgh T Taueh
cnz aurd ez d ltys ia ip Tti r
’Y POUEDNKMG ZE#E1xMR xPPKR 4..

Eva Papasoulioti nd t Trni r aH dv yuetinz jyinag tgh va ir, Pp enz d ng Eip gdb #r y b Tnip p r dvaud
tgh ip nr iTa ytid Pp Fd t Dp,dengc jgtendi tgh p r Tars ptd tvv tr h ngkUncanny Magazine,kSolarpunk
Magazine, Heartlines Spec tgh ed Tp r au ytg jgh p r ag iTnii r tgh leu ds,k@epapasouliotiktgh ag p r
leackplothopes.com
 Solarpunk Fantasy
Justine Norton-Kertson

I magine a future where towering skyscrapers are draped in verdant foliage, where solar-powered airships
skim the sky, and where community and sustainability are not just ideals, but the norm. Welcome to the
world of solarpunk, a subgenre of science —ction that dares to dream of a green, Nourishing future’a striking
contrast to the apocalyptic landscapes often featured in sci-—.
Eow, let?s sprinkle a touch of magic into this already enchanting picture. Tnvision sentient plants,
enchanted forests harnessing solar power, or sustainable cities guided by eco-sorcerers. IntriguedJ xhat?s the
potential allure of the fusion of fantasy and solarpunk. Soin us as we journey into this new and eBciting terrain
in speculative —ction.

The Anatomy of Solarpunk

2olarpunk sprouted from the fertile grounds of the science —ction genre, a seedling that dared to reach for
the sun while most were content to dwell in the shadows. 0orn in the late q;;;s, solarpunk was a breath
of fresh air amidst the grim, dystopian narratives dominating the speculative —ction sphere. Its origins are
intertwined with growing concerns about climate change and the necessity of envisioning a future that,
instead of succumbing to disaster, adapts and thrives.
xhe spirit of solarpunk is encapsulated in its name’?solar? represents its focus on renewable energy
and sustainable practices, while ?punk? signi—es rebellion, a break from the status Puo, and a dedication
to alternative and often community-oriented solutions. xhis isn?t your run-of-the-mill shiny utopiaA it?s a
practical, attainable future that champions balance’between humanity and nature, technology and ecology,
individuals and communities.
2olarpunk?s aesthetics mirror its ethos. :icture vibrant urban jungles where solar panels glisten alongside
verdant greenery. Tnvision communities where upcycled materials meet art nouveau architecture, where
advanced tech and traditional skills coeBist, crafting solutions that are both innovative and environmentally
friendly.
In essence, solarpunk imagines a future that?s not just surviving, but thriving, transforming our relation-
ship with the environment from one of eBploitation to one of symbiosis. Its themes of sustainable living,
community cooperation, and green innovation are its beating heart, its sunny optimism its lifeblood.
Mnd here?s the fun partz these themes form a fertile canvas for the fantastical. Oagic, after all, is another
form of energy, and sentient plants are but another community in the tapestry of our ecosystems. xhe
harmony between humanity and nature central to solarpunk could reach even deeper levels with a sprinkle
of fantasy. Imagine eco-wiLards casting sustainability spells, or mythical creatures as the keepers of natural
ePuilibrium.
2olarpunk?s verdant landscapes and hopeful themes don?t just open the door to these fantastical possibil-
ities, they roll out a welcome mat. 2o, let?s step through and see where fantasy might lead this sunlit genre.
 2RUMK:FEY 3MExM29 H“

A Glimpse into Fantasy

3antasy, as a genre, opens a window into a world that transcends the boundaries of our reality’a realm
where the impossible becomes possible, and the magical becomes the everyday. 3rom —re-breathing dragons
to mystical forests, enchanted artifacts to powerful sorcerers, fantasy thrives on the eBtraordinary, stirring our
imagination with its limitless possibilities. 0ut it?s not just about the magic and the monstersA at its heart,
fantasy delves into profound human eBperiences, themes, and values, albeit through a fantastical lens.
2o, how can these fantastical elements breathe new life into solarpunk narrativesJ xhe answer lies in the
imaginative synergy of these two genres. Oagic, with its inherent mystery and enchantment, could infuse
solarpunk?s world-building with new layers of depth and intrigue. :erhaps the wind that propels solarpunk?s
eco-friendly airships isn?t just air but a playful air spirit. Oaybe those solar panels aren?t merely technological
marvels, but enchanted creations that channel the sun?s energy.
3urthermore, the creatures and beings typical in fantasy could act as guardians of natural elements or
personi—cations of sustainable practices, intertwining the whimsical with the ecological. xhe eBploration of
alternate realities, a staple of the fantasy genre, could also allow us to view solarpunk themes from fresh and
thought-provoking perspectives.
0y melding with fantasy, solarpunk could evolve into a richer, even more captivating genre’its sustain-
ability-oriented world dipped in a fantastical hue, its narrative potential ampli—ed by the power of magic and
the allure of the eBtraordinary.

The Intersection of Fantasy and Solarpunk

Uet?s delve deeper into the fantastical fusion of solarpunk and fantasy, a promising crossroads where sustain-
able futures meet magic and wonder. xhis potential sub-genre could be an alchemical blend of solarpunk?s
eco-conscious vision and the limitless potential of fantasy, opening up new pathways for storytelling and
imagination.
:icture a world where spellcasters invoke not just elemental forces, but the power of renewable energy
sources, casting sunbeam spells by day and lunar enchantments by night. Imagine sentient plants, not merely
passive background elements, but active participants in the narrative, aiding characters and communities
with their wisdom and abilities. Rr consider a city where the architectural marvels aren?t just upcycled
buildings, but living structures grown from enchanted seeds, blending seamlessly with the surrounding
foliage.
äow about magical systems where sustainability is keyJ Oagic, after all, can have its own kind of ecology.
2pells could rePuire not just arcane words and gestures, but an understanding and respect for the natural
resources they draw from. Oagic could be a force that, like the sun or the wind, is harnessed responsibly, its
use reNecting the same principles of balance and sustainability central to solarpunk.
xhis speculative solarpunk-fantasy blend could even eBplore new societal structures. Instead of feudal
kingdoms or sprawling empires, societies might be community-oriented and egalitarian, their magical and
mundane systems alike driven by the shared goal of environmental harmony. 2uch stories could address
themes of power, responsibility, and the importance of respecting all forms of life’very much in tune with
solarpunk?s ethos.
While the solarpunk-fantasy intersection remains largely uncharted territory, there are narratives that hint
at the rich potential of this blend. In äayao OiyaLaki?s animated —lm VEausica” of the Galley of the Wind,Z
for instance, we —nd echoes of solarpunk in the post-apocalyptic world?s emphasis on balance with nature,
as well as elements of fantasy in its giant insects and the protagonist?s empathic abilities.
/; 2RUMK:FEY OM#M1IET I22FT 4((

Eovels like 2tarhawk?s Vxhe 3ifth 2acred xhingZ combine elements of magic, post-apocalyptic recovery,
and eco-activism, providing a taste of how these genres might interweave. Mnd in the realm of short stories,
Oissy 2turges? Vxhe 0inding MgentZ stands out as an eBample of solarpunk-fantasy fusion, blending magical
realism with solarpunk?s ecological concerns.
2uch narratives are glimmers of the eBciting potential of a solarpunk-fantasy sub-genre, lighting the way
for future authors and readers to eBplore and eBpand this promising intersection. xhis hybrid genre holds
a promise of a narrative —eld rich with magic and wonder, underpinned by a commitment to envisioning a
brighter, greener future.

The Potential of Solarpunk Fantasy

M fusion of solarpunk and fantasy could seed a whole new terrain in the landscape of speculative —ction. What
might we call this vibrant o)shootJ :erhaps ?solarfantasy,? reNecting its roots in solarpunk and its blossoming
into the realm of the fantasticalJ Rr ?ecofantasy,? to underscore its commitment to ecological themes and
magical narrativesJ Rr maybe ?greenfantasy,? a nod to its focus on sustainability and its fantastical natureJ
xhe naming, just like the genre, is ripe for eBploration and innovation.
:hotosynthe 3antasy
2un and 2orcery
Tcofantasy
2olarlamp
xhe emergence of a solarpunk-fantasy sub-genre could reverberate through the broader realm of specu-
lative —ction. Rn one hand, it o)ers solarpunk a chance to deepen its narratives, incorporating elements of
magic, mythology, and the supernatural to eBplore its themes of sustainability, community, and optimism
in fresh, imaginative ways. Rn the other, it presents an opportunity for fantasy to eBpand its horiLons,
integrating eco-conscious themes and envisioning magical systems and societies underpinned by principles
of balance and harmony with nature.
xhis sub-genre could spark new narratives that leverage the best of both worlds, allowing authors to craft
compelling stories that resonate with contemporary concerns while immersing readers in captivating realms
of enchantment. Imagine epic Puests not for gold or glory, but for ancient wisdom on sustainable magic.
Tnvision mystical creatures serving as protectors of their natural habitats, their stories intertwining with those
of human communities striving for symbiosis with their surroundings.
Ooreover, by blending the ecological consciousness of solarpunk with the imaginative possibilities of
fantasy, this genre could inspire readers to dream beyond the usual bounds. Mfter all, speculative —ction at
its best encourages us to imagine alternative futures, to challenge the status Puo, and to envision the kind of
world we aspire to live in. In merging the green optimism of solarpunk with the wonder and magic of fantasy,
this hybrid genre could open our minds to inventive possibilities for sustainable living and harmonious
communities, not just in the narratives we consume but also in the real world we inhabit.
2olarpunk fantasy, or whatever name it eventually takes, holds the potential to be more than just a
sub-genre of speculative —ction. It could become a beacon of imagination, a narrative bridge between the
world as it is and the world as it could be’a world teeming with magic, brimming with nature, and radiant
with the promise of a bright, sustainable future.
 2RUMK:FEY 3MExM29 /(

Ms our journey through the verdant landscapes of solarpunk, dappled with the enchanting hues of fantasy,
draws to a close, the image of this potential sub-genre shines brightly on the horiLon of speculative —ction.
2olarfantasy, ecofantasy, greenfantasy’whatever it might be named’promises a uniPue fusion that can
rejuvenate and diversify the narrative threads we weave, combining the optimism of green futures with the
limitless allure of the fantastical.
xhis could be a world where towering, leaf-clad citadels are grown from enchanted seeds, where eco-sor-
cerers harness the power of renewable energies, and where magical creatures coeBist with humans in sym-
biotic harmony. xhese elements of fantasy add layers of enchantment and wonder to solarpunk?s already
captivating vision, creating a vibrant tableau that?s as thought-provoking as it is mesmeriLing.
I?m deep into a solarpunk fantasy worldbuilding project that will be unveiled this summer. 0ut solarpunk
is about collective e)orts and solutions. 0ecause of that, the monumental task of creating a solarpunk fantasy
genre can?t and shouldn?t be left in the hands of any one person. 2o, to you readers and aspiring authors,
I eBtend an invitationz step into this new realm, eBplore its uncharted territories, dream up its enchanting
cities, and bring to life its eBtraordinary inhabitants. xhe stage is set, the canvas primed’it?s time for this
new breed of speculative —ction to blossom under the shared pen of our collective imagination. Uet?s dream
of a better, greener, and even more magical future, one story at a time.

Justine Norton-Kertson CtheyDthem is publisher and co-editor-in-chief of 2olarpunk OagaLine, as well as

publisher and editor-in-chief of Mndroid :ress. xheir stories and poems have been published in Ftopian 2ci-
ence 3iction OagaLine and Keckoning, among others. xheir debut non—ction book, FxR:IME WIx äz
2RUMK:FEY 2:TUU2 xR 3I#äx UIOMxT äME#T ME 2MGT xäT WRKU , is forthcoming
in Suly q;q/ from Oicrocosm :ublishing. Sustine lives in rural Rregon with their partner, puppies, cats,
goats, and bunnies.
Special Thanks to our 2023 Kickstarter
Backers
SPECIAL THANKS TO OUR 2023 KICKSTARTER BACKERS 43
44 SOLARPUNK MAGAZINE ISSUE #11
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