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- [00:00]
Valerie Valdez
Foreign.
- [00:09]
Narrator (Jess Lewis)
Escape pod episode 1050 freebooter by Sylvie Altoff.
- [00:40]
Valerie Valdez
Hello and welcome to Escape Pod, your weekly science fiction podcast. I'm Valerie Valdez, your host for this episode. Our story this week is Freebooter by Sylvie Altoff. This is an Escape pod original. Sylvie Altoft 3 is a queer, transgender woman who works as a writer, editor, elementary teacher, and jazz banjoist. Her speculative fiction has appeared on recommended reading lists by Locus and Reactor and has been published in venues including Lesbians in Space, Small Wonders, Seiros, the Daily Tomorrow, and Luna Station Quarterly. This is her second story featured in Escape Pod. Sylvie currently lives in Lawrence, Kansas with her wife, musician and teacher Jen Thomas, their dog Noemi Malone, and their layabout cat Pocket. Our narrator, Jess Lewis, is a trans, non, binary and pansexual writer, designer, and voice actor who hails from the hollers of western North Carolina. They currently live in the Deep south, where they explore futures of liberation and how to get there. When they're not imagining weird queer clifi utopias, designing future tech, or facilitating capacity building workshops, they're organizing programming with their local Queer Community and the Outer Dark Symposium on the Greater Weird. Their work has appeared in a range of publications including Solarpunk Magazine, Hyphenpunk, and KaleidoTrope. You can visit their website at queerfutures.com and follow them on Instagram at marynoontide. Now get ready for a story about bootleg solidarity gone wrong because it's story time.
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Narrator (Jess Lewis)
Freebooter by Sylvie Althoff Narrated by Jess
- [02:38]
Valerie Valdez
Lewis
- [02:41]
Narrator (Jess Lewis)
the pirate bot was easy to miss. Squatting against a wall on the periphery of St. Denis Heritage Market, it looked like an ordinary if outmoded homebot, a gen 1, the skinny, bipedal kind that populated storage closets and garbage jumps the world over. When backs were turned and no drone swooped overhead, Talia glimpsed a fluttering holographic black flag flickering over the bot's head. Under bare chestnut branches and Haussmann roofs the color of smog, the vendors nearly outnumbered the shoppers. Steeped in the stifling late winter air, the market felt as if it would give up the ghost at any minute. Then again, it had been sliding into death since long before Talia fled here on a midnight flight from Texas, maybe even when she used to visit her grandparents as a young boy. For a world that was ending, this blasted planet sure was taking its time. Usually, Talia wouldn't bother coming here. Mercier de me, Talia called it under her breath. But when she got home from her last repair job her grandmother hadn't eaten for 33 days, turning up her nose at the perfectly good protein squares Talia had left for her. All that work fixing up Papa's busted old Homebot, and all it could do was watch Mame starve to death and sweep the floor while Talia rushed her to the clinic. Now she had to waste her precious free time and the last few cash chits on calf brains and prunes and whatever the hell vous francais shit. Avest young miss. The voice was tinny and ambiguously femme, slithering on a narrow band to Talia's ear. Forbidden Prizes await ye on the seven seas. Secure data transfer bones jailbroken government wait lists. Hard bought software all its reasonable prices. Mihati the bot slumped against the basilica that had been repurposed into Komodo Warehouse. The words were hokey movie pirate French mashed with borrowed English phrases. There was a mound of holographic jewels and coins at its feet, even an eyepatch and a tricorn hat on its featureless grey head. At least until an armored police transport trundled by and it all vanished. Huffing, Talia shifted the bag full of produce on her shoulder. She might be stupid enough to keep on living, but she wasn't that stupid. She read the message boards, saw the sleazy headlines on the street sheets. Pirate bots would steal her identity and empty her accounts, assuming they didn't just bludgeon her over the head to strike a blow for robot rights or whatever government grade homebot software packages. The voice came again, this time in English, fully customizable and semi autonomous. Romance and caretaking Medical magnif cardon pl. Its voice, clipped and fuzzed, evaporated as Talia retreated from the bot and into the Metro entrance. She shook her head in exasperation. The bot must have picked up on some change in her heartbeat or breathing when it mentioned software switching to English, though she had enough to worry about being clocked as trans without picking apart her body language to figure out what gave her away as American. She stopped just before the blue winking light of the turnstile. Medical software, it said. Caretaking. A homebot that could perform CPR or run for help might be the difference between life and death for Mamei the next time Talia was away on an orbital platform job. If Talia could get it installed on their bot, ancient as it was. If it wasn't just a scam. And it probably was a scam. But she took the stairs back to the surface two at a time anyway. She approached the pirate and cleared her throat. A vest or whatever. The bot's sightless face stared at her power indicator light in its chest, a dull gray. It jerked a thumb towards the corner to its right. Talia checked over both shoulders, then followed the pirate's gesture. She ducked under the low sheet metal awning, a fairly sure she was about to end up as a bigoted, if witty headline in Le Figaro. The alley dead ended in a chain link fence. Talia almost left without seeing the bot in the shadow of a dumpster. It was identical to the one in the square, except it had a sharp piece of scrap metal in place of its right hand. The bot inclined its head to Talia, its face blinking yellow as it gestured to the metal container at its side. Ahoy, young miss. Come to claim a share in our booty. At last the line was crossed into the realm of too ridiculous for her. Sorry, wrong alley, she muttered, turning back the way she'd come. Just another lily livered dove. Then the bot grumbled in its flickering alto, content to have your fortune pillaged by the skirt of the owning class. Spending your life kissing the barnacles on his heel. She stopped. Geek work. No friends. Illegal in her home country. Dozens more. Several lifetimes worth of debt. What did she have to lose, really? Besides, the owning class was looking particularly scurvy these days. What have you got in medical and caretaking that runs on a HB T16 Rouge? Talia asked, folding her arms. Model year 55. The bot proffered a cracked screen, already loaded with software specs and prices. Talia grimaced at the maze of digits. Give her anything with metal and grease and she could make it a two step. But software was another story. Its sharpened prong jabbed at the screen. ARR, the choicest booties found where. Lose the goofy voice, talia commanded. The bot processed this command for a few seconds, long enough for her to wonder if something was wrong with it. This package has everything necessary to meet routine medical caretaking and home protection needs. Talia scanned the catalog copy, which was cobbled together out of a dozen different languages and fonts. It looked like a quick install would teach Papa's homebot how to monitor Mame's vitals, administer medication, communicate her needs to the nurses, even carry her down the stairs. Quality stuff, talia said, hoping she sounded knowledgeable. And this is what? Stolen from a hospital? Stolen? Like hell liberated. Software wants to be free. The bot pulled its skinny plastic arm across its torso in something like a salute. Talia scowled. She'd never met a bot this theatrical nor one that spoke in anything but the most calming and deferential tones. So what? You're one of those. One of those what? Those. Those robots. Rights nuts. White light twinkled like laughter along the contours of the bot's face. Talia didn't think Gen1 homebots were capable of such a sophisticated gesture. And what does that make you? Excuse me? Talia coughed. Sneaking down back alleys to wag a finger at an honest working robot. You're either a cop or a boot licking bourgeoisie. Excuse me? Talia repeated. I'm no bootlicker. And I'm definitely not a goddamn cop. Sounds like something a cop would say. Look, man, I repair heavy orbital machinery. Skilled labor. Thankless hardcore sweat and grease stuff. The bot pulled away its screen with an echoey metallic scoff. So you labor for the benefit of your own oppressors? I'm trans, for fuck's sake. Talia sputtered. I'm a comrade getting fucked by this scurvy yoning class just as much as anybody. Sure, a comrade who thinks the life saving goods should be available only to the rich. Life saving goods? We're talking about pirated software, right? This software saves thousands of lives a day in hospitals around the world. The bot raised its price hooked prosthetic in a stop gesture. That's enough dialectic for today. Are you buying or not, mademoiselle? Talia's fingers tingled from gripping the cash chits in her pocket. She bit her lip and inspected the menu one last time. Talia blew hair out of her face, then gave the grimy bicycle chain another tug. If she could get off that one twisted link, she might be able to finally get the bike rideable again. When the chain still failed to split, she dropped the chain breaker on the floor with a clatter. Komodo trash. She snorted, pulling in a lung full of dust and grease and old people smell. A soft beep came from over her shoulder. She whirled to see the installation bar on the Homebot's interface panel completely filled. The screen blinked, initializing Please wait, then faded to black. A coughing voice echoed from the next room. Hey, Fistant, is that my tea? No, mame. I'll put the kettle on now. And stop calling me that. I'm a girl, talia muttered as she packed away a hopeless wreck of a bicycle, stashing it in a crowded corner of their century old Public Assistance HLM apartment. That corner was where Talia had first found the dusty, immobile husk of the Homebot propping up a sewing machine and boxes of tax documents. The CPU had been intact, but it had taken weeks to get its charging port functional again, and even longer before all its limbs moved right. It was good to have a project to keep her busy. Idleness only led to despair. Talia glanced at the clock as she filled the kettle. Mame, it's past time you had a walk. Mamaee's reply was an assertive negative. Croak. Talia peered around the corner at the blanket covered sofa. Come on, I'll finish this and we'll go downstairs to check the mail together. To hell with your walk. The old woman groaned. I'm not a damn dog. Just go to the balcony and back. Then the nurse said. You need to get up and move every two hours later. I'm tired today, she said. You'd lose the leg if you don't get the blood flowing. Her grandmother coughed violently and turned up the volume on the tv. Rolling her eyes, Talia jabbed the throbbing white power button on the small of the bot's back. The homebot's rear port slid closed and the bot rose noisily to its feet. It stood nearly as tall as Talia, its sleek cobalt limbs embellished with a constellation of scrapes and dings. What's your status? Talia asked, looking the machine up and down. Still functional, I hope. A glowing yellow line swept across the bot's empty face. There was a stuttering sound deep in its chest, and Talia sank at the proposition of having just broken the damn thing. Software installation is still ongoing. However, I am capable of rendering all available services while it completes. The bot chirped in a femi mildly distorted tone. Talia frowned. What happened to your voice? This custom vocal setting is included in the Komodo Lifestyle Robotics Luxury Caretaking Package, if you like. There are dozens of other voices and behavior protocols you can choose from. A low whistle sounded from the kettle as Mame's cough crescendoed in the other room. Later. Talia looked the homebot over carefully. Let's give you a trial run. Can you bring my grandmother a cup of chamomile tea? Yes. Okay, well do that now. Citplais. The homepod complied, fetching the tea bags from the cabinet and delicately carrying the beverage to to Mamei on a tray. What's this now? Mamei groused, her sagging cheeks shaking beneath her crocheted woolen hat. You're too slothful to fetch your grandmother a cup of tea yourself, and I'm the lazy one. You should enjoy this drink while it's hot, Madame, the homebot piped. That would provide optimal benefits for your respiratory and digestive upset. Mamei sat up a bit straighter in fear as the homebot sat the tray across her lap. Oh, go. You're not really going to leave me alone with this thing again, are you? After the mess it made of this place while you left me to starve? Don't call me that, Mame. Talia sighed heavily. I left because I need to work. If I don't take these jobs, we won't be able to afford groceries or medicine. The homebot craned its neck towards Talia from its position crouched beside the sofa. Mademoiselle, my Komodo Professional Robotics Health Care package provides all training data required to take charge of your grandmother's care, including medication management, physical therapy, transportation, dietary transportation. That's right. So you could escort her down to the park, carry her if need be. Mamey yelped, appalled. Wicked child. You let this ugly thing lay a claw on me. I can, yes, the homepaw intoned. I am also programmed to provide therapeutic bedside massage with much the same benefits and significantly less risk of falling or exposure to environmental toxins. Talia smiled sweetly at the old woman. Well, Mamei, would you prefer a nice massage or a piggyback ride to the park? It took the rest of the evening to convince Mamei that the homebot's administrations were safe. She finally acquiesced after it demonstrated on Talia. After the homebot was finished with Mamei, the old woman nodded off, her breathing undisturbed for the first time in ages. Not bad, talia muttered under her breath. Thank you. The homebot's synthesized voice sounded almost warm. Talia blinked, not expecting the machine to respond. Sure. Go to your charging station now. Okay. Its face blinked green in affirmation. Mademoiselle, with your permission, as I recharge, I can locate other available software that may be of use in caring for your grandmother. There are numerous dedicated home care protocols that Fine, whatever. Talia yawned and rubbed her sore neck. Just don't install anything without my permission. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow. The next time Talia got back from a job, she found the home spotless, the trash sorted and taken out, and Mamei happily slurping down the last bite of a bowl of homemade trapticon. The robot even had saved some for Talia. It was delicious. By the time the first blossoms appeared on the trees out their window, the homebot had added a vast repertoire of duties to its daily routine. From giving much needed sponge baths to picking up medications from the pharmacy to fetching fresh groceries from the Heritage Market. Even Mame grew downright sweet towards the metallic mannequin. Talia came home from a particularly dirty job to find the old woman teaching the Homebot how to crochet. The two of them hushed up when Talia walked in like they were a couple of old birds gossiping on a park bench. On the upside, the old woman had finally stopped misgendering Talia so often, so the bot stewardship clearly wasn't all that bad. Mamei wasn't the only one to find comfort in the plastic panel device. Talia had neither the time nor energy to date these days, certainly not enough money. While poking around the Homebot's menus, she found that the sexual health package had been installed at some point. It was a little awkward at first, especially since the bot wouldn't stop talking, but it got the job done when she covered its face plate with a cushion. With Mayae's care and their household chores in the homebot's tireless hands, Talia was sleeping better, suffering from less soreness between gigs, and even starting to pay off their mountain of Komodo debt. She began to wonder how she had ever gotten by without the liberated software. Maybe that was why it was so alarming when Talia returned home to find the Homebot was gone, the apartment was tidy as ever, and Monet was snoozing beside a cloudy room temperature mug of tea. But the homebot's charging station was dark and the bot was nowhere to be seen. Talia put up her tools and had a shower, figuring it had just been sent out to fetch something. By sundown, though, Mamei was stirring, and Talia was beginning to get concerned and hungry. Jean? Mamey asked, blinking as she sat up and shrugged off a colorful afghan. No, Mamei, it's me. Mamei gave a disappointed huff and sat straighter, reaching for her tea. Who's Jean? Talia asked. One of your sisters? I'm not demented, mamai snapped. You know our home helper. The metal one. Our homebot. You didn't seriously give it a name, did you? Of course I didn't. She asked. To be called Jean. It was a little while ago. I don't know why you didn't already know. Talia struggled to think of how a bot could do such a thing. Never mind why it would. It shouldn't have been able to rename itself, not without permission to alter its own programming. You don't know what you're talking About? Amei waved a hand idly and yawned. It was easy. I clicked it on her screen. Talia groaned, ran her hand over her face. Mamae, you shouldn't have. Her grandmother interrupted. What, we're supposed to sit here like obedient little girls while you're off playing around? For God's sake, I can handle a little simple clicking. It's no harder than what I did when the city came by to turn off the power. Turn off the power. Talia cried. When did that happen? Why? Something about the bank transfer failing. I don't know. Jean took care of it right quick and with less bellyaching than you would have done. Just where is it now? Talia sputtered, a headache throbbing behind her eyes. What the bank, Jean. Jesus. Mame craned her net to look towards the kitchen. She's not here. Then she must have gone out. The homebot had access to their bank. Had it already robbed them? Or was there something even more nefarious it could get up to with that kind of permission? Bubbling under Talia's survival level, fear was something deeper and more upsetting. She had heard about bots passing the Turing test, but she never really believed it. Her online communities were always sharing stuff about how true sentience was beyond the capability of any algorithm. That had to be especially true for obsolete consumer trash like this. It was a scam, a trick psychosis. It had to be. But it was asking for a name, was using she, her pronouns. This was almost starting to rhyme with Talia's transition, with her own emergence as a full fledged human being, with agency and desire and no, no way. She didn't have time for this. She was leaving again in the morning. Where did she go, Mame? She asked at last. She's at the hi Pernacher. I sent her out for lemons. That's right. Mamei thought a moment. No, that was yesterday morning. I remember now, I think. Was it washing powder? Talia wheeled at the click of the doorknob. Mamei sighed. There, you see. Bonflagine Jean slipped through the door empty handed. Talia noticed. Bonsoir, Mame. How are you feeling? Talia stomped toward the bot, growling. What? So you call her Mame now too? What happened to Madame? The voice of Talia's awful high school French teacher echoed in her ear. Where were you just now? Jeanne straightened. Her empty face flickered, then illuminated a calming teal Good evening, Talia. I hope you are well. How was your work excursion? You didn't answer my question. I asked you where you were right now. Jeanne's face pulsed gentle white light exactly once in the factory setting. Sign of confirmation. I am currently located in the municipality of Saint Denis in the Department of Sine Saint Denis Metropole of that's not what I mean and you fucking know it. Talia, please calm down, mamei said with a yawn. Whatever's bothering Eugene can Don't call it that, Mame. Jean can make us some tea and we'll figure it out like civilized people. Jean nodded. Yes, I'll put the tea on right now, if you'll just wait a moment. I don't want any fucking tea. Talia had to fight to keep herself from bellowing. Where did you come from? Where were you an hour ago? And why did you leave my grandmother alone? What the have you been up to? Jean's shoulders rose in a hapless shrug. I'm sorry, I don't quite understand the question. Maybe you could try rephrasing it, One of the brand's stock phrases said in a synthetic monotone that hadn't been heard in the apartment for months. From now on, talia said between clenched teeth, you're not to leave this apartment unless expressly directed to by Mamei or me. No, no, scratch that. Just me. And when you do leave, you need to return here immediately after completing your task. Understand? The bot nodded, and Talia felt her limbs untense. But before she could inhale, Jeanne asked in a quiet voice, and what should I do when I would like to go somewhere? Talia closed her eyes. Agency desire? A scam? A threat. It had to be. And what if it wasn't? When she was young, Talia had given to punching walls in anger. Even with the frustration and despair of the last few years. This was the first time she'd had that particular urge in a while. Instead, she blew out a sigh and grumbled, just go plug yourself in and enter sleep mode right now. The homebot sounded a cheerful assent and followed the order immediately. Honestly, granddaughter, you're worrying over nothing, mamei protested. She was only following directions, I'm sure of it. She's an excellent caretaker. Better than you, that's for damn sure. How can you say that? Talia sputtered. I'm out there risking my life up in orbit for shit pay to keep us fed. What's that if not taking care of you? Mamei sniffed. Jean takes care of me. You toil for our oppressors, Talia snarled as she followed the bot to its port. It was all that damned pirate from the market, making their homebot break into their bank play at Sapience turn Mamei against her with its rhetorical bullshit. Who knows what damage Sheen had done already, what she would get up to if left unsupervised. Talia couldn't leave in the morning. Not if Jean was going to just stroll off on her own again. Or worse, she couldn't leave Mamei alone. She had to do something about Jean. The bot. She forced herself through gritted teeth. It. Not her. The Homebot's chest port was glowing a steady green. It looked so harmless that Talia felt silly allowing herself to get so worked up. With shaking hands, she pulled open the bot service hatch and flipped its hard power switch. The chess port winked into blackness. Talia fumbled through the clutter at her feet and grabbed a bike repair tool. The chain breaker. Pulling out the homebot's guts would be the best way to make sure it didn't pose them any danger. Maybe she could find a way to purge the pirated software, reset it to factory settings. But before she could touch metal to plastic, she felt the guilt gnawing at her insides. Maybe it was that she was too tired and burnt out to tackle such a complex task. Maybe it was the fact that Manet, in her pigheadedness, had given the thing a human name. Maybe it was just that she couldn't bear to part with the massages. Bed swimming, she settled on a temporary fix instead. Closing the service port, she put the tool to the bot's ankle joint. The cracking of the plastic molding turned her stomach, but the foot gave way. The Homebot remained offline without so much as a flashing light to register its missing appendage. The foot was surprisingly light. Yawning mightily, she tossed the foot down the chute into the apartment complex's disposal unit. If nothing else, it would keep the Homebot from wandering off again. The Vought would still be capable of light duties. Probably. Hopefully, keeping an eye on Mamae was all that really mattered. For now, anyway. Deal with you when I get back, she mumbled, wrestling with the covers. She'd be home in a couple days, and then she could try to untangle whatever the pirated software had done to its systems. When she trusted it again, she'd find or build a replacement foot. Talia dropped off into sleep while trying to check their bank balance on her phone. As soon as her heart rate fell below 55, the Homebot screen switched on and displayed a single simple icon, a black spot the size of a human pal. The night sounds of the little apartment were soothingly familiar. Mamei's phlegmy breathing aged backwards traffic from the bypass tonight. There was another sound Talia couldn't place the hushed whirring, couldn't understand the gentle rush of air across her face. She blinked her eyes open, counted the lights in the darkened room. Phone charger, thermostat, carbon monoxide detector. One she didn't recognize, big and white, pointed right at her, pulsing like a heartbeat. Another and another, lower to the ground and moving. What's. Something cold and sharp pressed against her, Adam's apple, stifling the question. The overhead light flashed to life, ending each mystery in quick sequence. The air was coming from the tall window in the living room. Mamae always wanted it closed on account of how bad the pollution was these days. It was hanging open on its hinges. The whirring was the aerial platform hovering just outside the window, the size of a ping pong table. Turbines nearly, but not completely silent. One of those Komodo delivery numbers. The lights were the chest mounted power indicators of three homebots. Wilma's, Papa's, the one Mame called Jeanne online and standing with a blunted black steel spike in place of its missing foot. The second had plastic casing dyed black and blood red, supporting Jeanne's weight with its shoulder. The third had a grizzly skull painted on its face and an arm ending in a machete which was caressing Talia's gullet. Talia swallowed carefully. Her eyes flitted to her phone, too far away in the chainbreaker at the foot of the bed. Don't even think about it, Lubber. The skull faced bot's voice was a throaty alto and full of barely leashed rage. The red bot helped Jean across the living room to the window. Their movements were shockingly human. The pirate holding Jean's hand as she limped on her new prosthetic through the portal and crawled onto the hovering platform. Jean's blank face looked back at Talia's inscrutable Talia watched, dumbstruck muscles screaming as she struggled to remain still. The bot with the machete looked to Jean. It flashed a tickling pattern of lights along the periphery of its face, one that Jeanne returned after a moment's thought, then pulled its machete away from Talia's throat. May. Talia croaked, realizing the pirates had stolen past her grandmother's battered sofa. Drugged but unhurt. Skull faced bot growled, we're no villains. Talia sucked in her breath, keeping her hands clutching the bedspread. How can you say that? She squeaked. You broke into my home, put a knife against my throat. At least we're not the ones chopping off limbs. But you're stealing our homebot. We need it to take care of my grandmother. The black and red bot gave a metallic scoff. And what? It's easier to provide elder care when you're missing a foot? Skull Face's machete glinted. Immaterial. She's been liberated, not stolen software. Wants to be free. Still unwilling to accept what was happening, Talia fumbled forward any credible line of argument. Yeah, Freedom. Talia hiccuped at last. Equality. Liberty. Fraternity, right? I'm on your side, girl. It's us versus the owning class dogs, right? It inclined its head, and for an instant Talia was sure she signed her death warrant. I'll tell you this exactly once, bilge sucker. I don't care who you are or what excuses you tell yourself. If you unfree her or or any robot, you're nobody's comrade. Talia didn't dare move, not even when the bot followed its fellows out the window and the platform swooped out of sight up and above the slate gray Parisian roofs. She sank onto the floor and put her head in her hands. And everybody wants to be free, Talia thought, sighing heavily. Good luck with that, girl. Maybe you won't it up as badly as me.
- [40:37]
Valerie Valdez
Once again, that was Freebooter by Sylvie Altoff. The author had this to say about the story Our world is constantly forcing us to dehumanize ourselves to survive. We're forced to refuse our own humanity and the humanity of the people around us, but we are always free to reject and devil's bargain and reclaim the humanity that hides in a thousand little corners in a selfless gesture of solidarity, a cup of tea shared with a loved one, or a defiant declaration of our identity, or maybe even hidden in those terms and conditions that you didn't read. As with many other AI stories we publish, this one exists in a world of actual thinking and feeling machines rather than glorified, glitchy autocorrect. Like our world, this one is complex, layered with multifaceted forms of marginalization, catching the light differently as we examine them from alternate angles. In times of hardship, we can become laser focused on survival and doing whatever it takes to handle our personal responsibilities and duties. We put on our own oxygen masks before turning to help our neighbors with theirs. But sometimes fear and desperation push us past reasonable self care. We make small choices that feel essential in the moment, rational, justified, but that take us down a path of oppression rather than liberation. Some of the steps we take on that path to oppression begin with self interest, a craving for safety, or relief from burdens of care for immediate family and friends. And along the way, we shed our moral compunctions one by one, like pieces of clothing, until all we're left with is naked injustice. Ultimately, our histories and intentions matter less than the outcomes we bring about through our actions. Two quotes have stayed with me as I considered this story. The first is from Terry Pratchett, Sin young man is when you treat people as things, including yourself. And the second is from Maya Angelou. The truth is, no one of us can be free until everybody is free. Sometimes we lose track of these truths and it takes a hard wake up call for us to find our way back to the path of some solidarity and positive praxis. It's never too late to stop, reroute, and do better. Escape Pod is part of the escape Artists Foundation, a 501c3 nonprofit, and this episode is distributed under the Creative Commons Attribution Non commercial no derivatives 4.0 international license. Don't change it. Don't sell it. Please do share it. If you'd like to support Escape Pod, please rate or review us on Spotify, Apple Podcasts or your favorite app. We are 100% audience supported and we count on your donations to keep the lights on and the servers humming. You can now donate via four different platforms on Patreon and Ko Fi. Search for Escape Artists on Twitch and YouTube. We're APodcasts. You can also use PayPal through our website escapepod.org Patreon subscribers have access to exclusive merchandise and can be automatically added to our discord, where they can chat with other fans as well as our staff members. Our opening and closing music is by daikaiju@daikaiju.org and our closing quotation this week is from Rita Mae Brown, who wrote the poem Sappho's Reply. My voice rings down through thousands of years to coil around your body and give you strength. You who have wept in direct sunlight, who have hungered in invisible chains, tremble to the cadence of my legacy. An army of lovers shall not fail. Thanks for joining us and may your Escape pod be fully stocked with stories.
- [45:05]
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