Before the internet, artificial intelligence, the International Space Station, and the mapping of the human genome, there was science fiction, which predicted it all. Where and when the genre began is debatable: among the ancestors of today’s science fiction are Kepler’s Somnium in the 17th century, Gulliver’s Travels in the 18th, and Frankenstein, as well as titles by Verne, Poe, and H.G. Wells, in the 19th. But it was in the late 1930s in America that science fiction entered what is often
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By Jhon Sánchez
In my apartment, there are two wooden boxes full of manuscripts. After reading “Rover,” by A.T. Sayre, I keep thinking about those stories, poems, and a novel that lie there. Existing. I dreamed that after my death, someone would come and find them. But more likely, they would be just paper. Hopefully, they would turn into a supermarket paper bag with a seal for recycling.
I went to explore other of Sayre’s short stories, and I read “Missionaries,” available in Kindle,
“Grooming,” available in Literally Stories, and “I’m Not Robert,” available in Bewildering Stories and in the podcast StarShipSofa. They are all excellent, and I wanted to read more, but I found “Whatever Makes You Happy,” a movie that A.T directed, so I watched the film instead of reading more. It’s an impressive career, and I would like to hear from the author himself.