Well the squad went in and now we’ve got new pins, cute stickers, info cards, and our favorite, SCIENCE FICTION LITERATURE IN PRINT & AUDIO FORMAT ❤️. Order stuff from our distro and get some of the aforementioned goods, or pick them up at our events (check out calendar in the nav above). There’s more coming, too. >=} Click the images in the post for direct links to anything you see therein.

This month also sees the opening of Rasheedah’s HOUSE OF FUTURE SCIENCES press online, a centralized place to get her Nonlocality Zines, Recurrence Plot novel and matching soundtrack (!), AfroFuturist Affair pins, posters, and the newest hottest book BLACK QUANTUM FUTURISM. Details below. We’re stoked.

House of Future Sciences disto


Black Quantum Futurism (or BQF) is a new approach to living and experiencing reality by way of the manipulation of space-time in order to see into possible futures, and/or collapse space-time into a desired future in order to bring about that future’s reality. This vision and practice derives its facets, tenets, and qualities from quantum physics, futurist traditions, and Black/African cultural traditions of consciousness, time, and space. Inside of the space where these three traditions intersect exists a creative plane that allows for the ability of African-descended people to see “into,” choose, or create the impending future.

Featuring visions by Rasheedah Phillips, Moor Mother Goddess, Warren C. Longmire, Almah Lavon, Joy Kmt, Thomas Stanley, PhD, and Nikitah Okembe-RA Imani, PhD.

84 pages. Matte cover.
Cover art and design by Dezz Archie
Compiled and edited by Rasheedah Phillips

Buy Now


Recurrence Plot at Philadelphia’s Brickbat Books. Have you gotten your copy yet?

The interweaving stories in Recurrence Plot and Other Time Travel Tales present characters whose stories challenge the notion that time flows in only one direction. If you want to understand what is happening at any given point in time, you cannot only look to the past for clues. You must consider the future.

A journalist races against time itself to expose the entity preying on young male teens in Philadelphia. A crystal, memory-storing bracelet transports a young mother back to the day of her own mother’s traumatic death. An unknown force of nature causes time to start flowing backwards. . .

Using quantum physics as an imaginative landscape, Phillips’ debut speculative collection Recurrence Plot attempts to walk the fine line between fiction and reality, fate and free will, and past, present, and future.


Maggie Eighteen’s PINS 4 CYBORGS reference Ghost in the Shell, Donna Haraway, and their own post-binary dystopian universe, All That’s Left. Get them in pairs, or buy one of their zines and get one on the house.



New new new Metropolarity pins come with every Metropolarity order in our lil shop or at our events.


Book searching while black can be a traumatic experience. Throw in gay and it can make your casual trip to Barnes N Noble an experience so dire, you feel like you’re a starving black orphan tucked into the back of a young adult dystopian novel, scrounging for crumbs at the bazaar while these Harrison Ford clones saunter through the stacks picking out spec-fic and fantasy with abandon. No, for QPOC interested in reading compelling, otherworldly, righteous sci-fi and spec-fic written by one of our own, featuring us as lead characters, this little adventure (choosing a book) can be nothing short of a nightmare. Thankfully, a lot of thoughtful and intriguing fiction is coming out this year from writer’s in the African diaspora that I’m anticipating giddily: T. Geronimo Johnson’s “Welcome to Braggsville”, Paul Beatty’s “The Sellout” and James Hannaham’s “Delicious Foods” for starters. But while those stories will fill a certain desire for me to read weirdish, darkly comic, transcendent black penned spec-fic that doesn’t support a monolithic view of black life quite well, none of them are specifically science fiction. Enter Jennifer Marie Brissett’s impossible-to-put-down debut novel, “Elysium”.

The slender, beautiful, Philip K. Dick award nominated “Elysium” from Aqueduct Press is a neatly packaged, whirlwind of a tale, awash in dreamy, nuanced emotion and bristling with imagination. Told in twisting, anti-synchronous swaths of poetic prose, the story revolves around humanity’s interaction with a violent race of roach-like aliens who’ve bio-nuked earth with a strange dust. The story dives through the shared memory of many characters, the core of whom share names, personalities, and lineages. The ultimate twist of this story is hard to discuss without revealing it, so I won’t. But Brissett doesn’t shy away from introducing a world where LGBTQ characters are given dynamic, rangy voices, where gender is melted away, remolded, and shaped again.

The story starts off introducing Adrienne, a woman struggling in her relationship with her husband, Antoine. While Antoine seems aloof, perhaps busy but ultimately frustrated with married life, Adrienne seems lost and incapable of escaping some kind of palpable dread. She’s having visions, lapses of memory and bursts of images of other memories pop into her head, memories she’s not sure she’s supposed to have. As I read these pages, my heart sank, not for fear that alas, poor Adrienne is unloved by her dear husband, but because perhaps I’d stumbled into a paltry romance instead of a science fiction thriller. Yet, suddenly the narrative is interrupted by a staticky computer program rendered in retro-futurist cyber text, breaking up the monotony of the everyday-ness of Adrienne’s previous life, and transporting her, and us, the reader, into the body of…someone else? A doppelganger? A possible future-past? It’s entirely unclear at this point, although things start to coagulate fairly quickly. And just as they do, as the reader realizes they’re experiencing a folding of the multiverse, we’re transported into the lives of young women abused by a dark cult.

The “whoa, she went there!” weirdness that Brissett wields in this novel is a breath of ozone laced, dusty air. It’s harsh in moments, but completely lucid and elegiac in others. Brissett’s skill as a writer is in her ability to mine sci-fi tropes for what lies at their diamond-like core. She’s not overtly concerned with bogging down the narrative in newspeak or having us trudge through page after page of diplomacy and bureaucracy with characters verbally expositing about the ins and outs of their inhabited universe. No, Brissett gets to the point, but still finds the space to build a world so tremendously intricate that it can be seen as nothing short of monumental. When she isn’t filling the pages with wayward graffiti artists locked in a subterranean existence, aliens that flicker in-between fourth dimensional space, or sci-fi weaponry rent from underground ’90s comics, she’s telling us a story about our deep connections to each other. “Elysium” spiritually connecting in ways “Cloud Atlas” or “Life of Pi” perhaps tried to be, but without actually telling us so, by trusting the reader and allowing the characters to discover that connected kind of humanity, echoing the mythic work of Samuel Delany in the process, ultimately helping us, the reader, find that same feeling.

Furthering the essentiality of this work is Brissett’s use of African-American protagonists. There are black women and men, gay and straight and transgender, doing impossible things here, saving the day, struggling and working towards a better, livable world. While the book doesn’t stray away from a racial identity, that very same identity doesn’t overshadow the story. And after things spiral away from us, then back again, we’re left with an ending that is not only satisfying, but absolutely thrilling in every single way. If you’re a fan of any kind of science fiction— hard sci-fi, fantasy, mythic, superhero, supernatural, historical fiction, time travel, Orwellian/dystopian– read “Elysium” and like a beckoning to it’s namesake Greek concept of the afterlife, release and be transported there.

Did you know? Alex has written most of our event descriptions, and perhaps famously, our HERALD. We like his reviews too.

And suddenly, my Facebook wall is inundated with the strange, twisted images of super-hero mego toys pouring hot cooking oil on top of each other, bare-assed pissing on the sides of buildings and sneaking obvious peeks at each others junk, or, innocuously enough, doing their fucking laundry. And by inundated I mean like, 3 people, but still that’s a lot, especially in this day and age when every tag is a reminder that something dumb, regretful, or over-analyzed is happening, and it’s all unfolding on your precious, precious wall. But it’s not just the irksome practice of the, “oh, let me tag everyone I think might be kinda down with this” (it’s not that irksome and kind of sweet, actually… aw, you’re thinking of me! Thanks, assorted boos!) as much as it is the sort of sad reality that folks not into your particular niche of nerdom just fucking don’t get it, maaaaan!

In this particular case, the gangs all here: Spider-Man, Thor, Batman. It’s a veritable who’s who of mainstream superdom, all of them blistering with sinewy plastic model toy muscles and precisely carved renditions of their respective actor’s chiseled, handsome faces. It’s just that in “Superheroes in Real Life” by Edy Hardjo (or whatever it’s called), the point of parody seems to be uncomfortably off the mark.

Let me explain. I don’t think super-heroes are beyond reproach. In fact, the idea of the super-hero, and the universes they inhabit, with peril at every turn and with it’s strange and fantastical burst of science fiction whimsy, is in and of itself, a parody. It’s a playful rendering of the idea of stoic leadership in the face of inscrutable demands of every day life. Many writers have played within the seams of this concept– hyperreality married with nuke weilding, dragonlaced, alien mutant imbued fantasy. I mean, the first superhero ever, Superman, was an avatar that deftly embodied everything we, the struggling masses, seemed to ceaselessly endure: poverty, abuse, restriction and corruption by power. And through the lens of the super-hero– a fantastic, satirical take on modernity and it’s flawed relationship with our humanity– generations have been able to eke out a vision of the world they’d rather see. So, to me, blatant, unnuanced mockeries of super-heroes miss the mark, painfully.

Is the attempt at satire in Hardjo’s work about the juxtapositioning? Is it an homage to the wonders of play, of the pre-pubescent mind discovering itself? Does it work as an attempt at uncovering mainstream comic movies lack of gender and sexual orientation equality while perpetuating a staid stereotype of uber-masculinity? It’s unclear. I can concede an interest in the work can be made more prescient if the attempt is to satirize the mostly unfun movie universes; those are mainly fascist junk, the modern day take on Rambo and Diehard, and they clearly deserve to be skewered. But since there’s so much ingrained and intrinsic to the characters from the source material– the comics themselves– it becomes dangerously close to pedantic nihilism, cutting and mean spirited for the sake of it’s own self. In short, the comic books are already parodying themselves, playfully and with genuine fervor. In DAREDEVIL, the main character has “come out of the closet” as a superhero, and his everyday life has flipped in many bizarre ways because of it. MULTIVERSITY, penned by legendary meta-fiction writer Grant Morisson, is tackling the exact things I think Hardjo is trying to make light of. It’s a series featuring multiple universes, where sometimes Batman is an infant robot, where talking Tigers leap from the page (quite literally), and each universe exist in the other universes, but only in the form of a comic book! In SHE-HULK, the titular heroine’s adventures come mostly from her desperately clinging to an unusual law firm she’s started as a result of not wanting to carry on as a corporate stooge– imagine a 7 foot tall green superhero showing up in court to defend Dr. Doom’s son; yes, dearlings, hijinks ensue. And this is to say nothing of the constant fourth wall demolishing in DEADPOOL, or the sublimely hysterical, yet still heartfelt and genuine character study taking place in SINISTER SIX, where b-list villains are center stage as they navigate their way through the wonders of the Marvel Universe.

“The Secret Life of Super-heroes” (or whatever it’s fucking called!) is interesting visually. It’s definitely fun to see Spider-Man and his amazing friends taking a selfie while the Hulk tries to peel a xenomorph off of his face. But I think this exhibit is more “Meet the Feebles” than it is “Galaxyquest”. Where the former is an unnecessary, vicious send-up by an outsider trying to shock, essentially parodying a parody (the Muppets), the latter is a sweet, endearing piece of satire that stands on it’s own, with a burgeoning narrative and a willingness to admit that there is power and the ability to dream, dare, and do within the source material (Star Trek). Frankly, if one were to read an actual super hero comic– any one of them– they’d see that the everyday lives of superheros (where Batgirl is constantly losing and checking her phone, riding the subway to school and hanging out with her weird as fuck friends) aren’t so secret after all.

Thanks Alex. You can see more photos from the series in question here on HiConsumption.com. Our cover image is directly pulled from the same place.