Thanks to everybody who’s left a review for Spectacular Silver Earthling! I deeply appreciate each one of them.
If you’re still meaning to get around to it, no pressure. I understand how busy life can be!
And I also understand it’ll be a surprise to hear that I’m publishing an unrelated sci-fi book soon. (I have many reasons!) I’ll be great.
If you enjoy Hubcap’s wit, then you ought to like Robin too. And Vittr (alien.) And Zephyr (other alien). And Dragon (gorilla). It’s a fun set of characters.
Onward and upward! A sequel for Hubcap & Co is on the to-do list, after some other madcap space adventures. The best kind.
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Harley and Ivy meet Jazz while she's Interning at Arkham, and think she's their daughter from the Future. Somehow.
They're not wrong.
Turns out the Fentons decides to test a Prototype Ghost Portal one day 18 years ago and accidentally made a Time Portal instead. Deeming the experiment a Failure, they were just about to close it and start again when a Baby was launched out of it and into Jack's arms.
The moment he looked into her Eyes he knew he wanted to keep her. Maddie was much the same.
They did Try to return her at first, but turns out the Portal was Unstable and constantly shifting between dozens of different TimeZones, so they could never find where/when she came from. She could either be from Earth 18 years later, or Mars 5 Million Years Ago. No way to tell.
So without any other option they decided that she was their Daughter now.
It helped that she looked so much like them, and that both had been in the Lab for 9 Months straight building the Portal so nobody would question the sudden Baby. They just told the Hospital they had an At Home Delivery and officially made her their Daughter.
They raised her believing that she was their's Biologically, because after a while they honestly forgot she wasn't.
Now Jazz is working as an Intern at Arkham Asylum, and has met the 2 Patients she will be helping take care of.
Doctor Pamela Isley, and Doctor Harleen Quinzel. Aka, Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn.
This should be an interesting internship.
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crows use tools and like to slide down snowy hills. today we saw a goose with a hurt foot who was kept safe by his flock - before taking off, they waited for him to catch up. there are colors only butterflies see. reindeer are matriarchical. cows have best friends and 4 stomachs and like jazz music. i watched a video recently of an octopus making himself a door out of a coconut shell.
i am a little soft, okay. but sometimes i can't talk either. the world is like fractal light to me, and passes through my skin in tendrils. i feel certain small things like a catapult; i skirt around the big things and somehow arrive in crisis without ever realizing i'm in pain.
in 5th grade we read The Curious Incident of the Dog In The Night-time, which is about a young autistic boy. it is how they introduced us to empathy about neurotypes, which was well-timed: around 10 years old was when i started having my life fully ruined by symptoms. people started noticing.
i wonder if birds can tell if another bird is odd. like the phrase odd duck. i have to believe that all odd ducks are still very much loved by the other normal ducks. i have to believe that, or i will cry.
i remember my 5th grade teacher holding the curious incident up, dazzled by the language written by someone who is neurotypical. my teacher said: "sometimes i want to cut open their mind to know exactly how autistics are thinking. it's just so different! they must see the world so strangely!" later, at 22, in my education classes, we were taught to say a person with autism or a person on the spectrum or neurodivergent. i actually personally kind of like person-first language - it implies the other person is trying to protect me from myself. i know they had to teach themselves that pattern of speech, is all, and it shows they're at least trying. and i was a person first, even if i wasn't good at it.
plants learn information. they must encode data somehow, but where would they store it? when you cut open a sapling, you cannot find the how they think - if they "think" at all. they learn, but do not think. i want to paint that process - i think it would be mostly purple and blue.
the book was not about me, it was about a young boy. his life was patterned into a different set of categories. he did not cry about the tag on his shirt. i remember reading it and saying to myself: i am wrong, and broken, but it isn't in this way. something else is wrong with me instead. later, in that same person-first education class, my teacher would bring up the curious incident and mention that it is now widely panned as being inaccurate and stereotypical. she frowned and said we might not know how a person with autism thinks, but it is unlikely to be expressed in that way. this book was written with the best intentions by a special-ed teacher, but there's some debate as to if somebody who was on the spectrum would be even able to write something like this.
we might not understand it, but crows and ravens have developed their own language. this is also true of whales, dolphins, and many other species. i do not know how a crow thinks, but we do know they can problem solve. (is "thinking" equal to "problem solving"? or is "thinking" data processing? data management?) i do not know how my dog thinks, either, but we "talk" all the same - i know what he is asking for, even if he only asks once.
i am not a dolphin or reindeer or a dog in the nighttime, but i am an odd duck. in the ugly duckling, she grows up and comes home and is beautiful and finds her soulmate. all that ugliness she experienced lives in downy feathers inside of her, staining everything a muted grey. she is beautiful eventually, though, so she is loved. they do not want to cut her open to see how she thinks.
a while ago i got into an argument with a classmate about that weird sia music video about autism. my classmate said she thought it was good to raise awareness. i told her they should have just hired someone else to do it. she said it's not fair to an autistic person to expect them to be able to handle that kind of a thing.
today i saw a goose, and he was limping. i want to be loved like a flock loves a wounded creature: the phrase taken under a wing. which is to say i have always known i am not normal. desperate, mewling - i want to be loved beyond words.
loved beyond thinking.
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