Death of the Author

by Nnedi Okorafor

Stories were our food, nourishment, enrichment. To consume a story was to add to our code, deepen our minds. We felt it the moment we took it in. We were changed. It was like falling. It was how we evolved.

She believed in the science behind self-driving vehicles. The technology had existed for years now, and she’d been researching this new cab service over the last several months. The idea of being able to order one with her phone like an Uber and not have to deal with a human being who looked at her strangely, asked awkward questions, could be a serial killer, and so on, was a wonderful thought.

I can’t be normal, so I’ll be something else.