CZM Book Club: The Cloud Weaver's Song, by Saul Tanpepper

Summary

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It Could Happen Here – CZM Book Club: The Cloud Weaver's Song by Saul Tanpepper

Host: Margaret Killjoy (Cool Zone Media)
Date: March 29, 2026
Episode Theme: Exploring hope and resistance through climate fiction rooted in East African folklore

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Episode Overview

In this Cool Zone Media Book Club episode, host Margaret Killjoy presents a thoughtful reading and discussion of Saul Tanpepper’s speculative story, “The Cloud Weaver’s Song.” Set in a climate-ravaged East Africa, the tale weaves together folklore, ancestral memory, speculative technology (spider mechs!), and a persistent struggle to adapt and resist in the face of environmental collapse. The episode moves between narrative immersion and reflective commentary, highlighting the power of climate fiction, the complexity of revolutionary change, and the importance of imagining better futures.

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Key Discussion Points & Insights

1. Introduction to "The Cloud Weaver’s Song"

• Margaret Killjoy introduces the story as a lyrical blend of folklore and sci-fi:
  • “How do you feel about folklore? How do you feel about children's bedtime stories? How do you feel about spider mechs?... Today we are reading The Cloud Weaver’s Song by Saul Tanpepper which blends the lyricism and mythopoetics of folklore with just gorgeous sci-fi imagery about climate refugees ancestry... and struggling to convince established power structures the world is changing.” (01:58)
• Background: Story set in Eritrea; originated from the “Afterglow: Climate Fiction for Future Ancestors” anthology (2021).

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2. Narrative Read-Aloud (Core Story Elements)

• Margaret reads the full story, immersing listeners in a future where:
  • The Afar people, forced from their ancestral land by the “Great Drying,” build sky-high towers and become “Sky People” harvesting water from clouds using webs spun from glass—echoing both folklore and speculative technology (spider mechs).
  • Towers become home for climate refugees; conflict arises as changing environmental patterns require new adaptation—but leaders resist change, clinging to tradition.
  • Main characters: Simhar (the innovative weaver) and Ali (the sand gatherer/termite-skin climber), who risk punishment to prove the clouds have dropped and their people must look downward, not upward, for water and survival.
  • Ancestry, myth, and social critique combine as Simhar’s innovations are first punished, then adopted—paralleling cycles of revolution and resistance in both nature and society.
• Notable quote:
  • “When spiderwebs unite, they can capture a lion. The leaders are stubborn, this is true, but they are not stupid. I will spin my webs to capture their attention... We cannot keep building higher and breathing thinner air while chasing clouds that are no longer there.” (18:42)

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3. Themes Explored in the Story

A. Climate Adaptation, Folklore, and Technology

• Community responds to ongoing climate disaster with adaptation, echoing rich mythopoetic tradition.
• Innovations (spider mechs for web-weaving, termite mechs for tower-building) are tied to inheritance and social hierarchy.

B. Tradition vs. Change & the Politics of Adaptation

• The Council of Elders (post-revolution establishment) is resistant to recognizing new truths—clinging to old paradigms even when conditions fundamentally shift.
• Simhar’s defiance is presented as both necessary (ancestral lesson: “Necessity makes us do what we must in order to survive”) and transformative.

C. Revolutionary Action and its Limits

• The revolution is both historical (referencing Eritrea’s real revolutionary past) and metaphorical (each new adaptation as ongoing revolution).
• Hazel’s commentary: “Our protagonists deal with a council of elders, the powers that be who even after the revolution, have become dangerously stuck in their ways... the story smartly reminds us of the shortfalls of revolution, or maybe rather imagining that the revolution is never finished while still calling us into revolutionary action and charging us with a duty to fight for a better future.” (32:51)

D. Uplifting Narrative Amid Collapse

• Despite hardship, story ends with hope: the ground beneath the towers blossoms into a garden, signaling renewal and adaptability.

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4. Author’s & Crew’s Reflections (Margaret, Hazel, Saul Tanpepper)

• Saul Tanpepper (via quoted interview, paraphrased by Margaret):

  • Sought to imagine brighter climate futures instead of dystopic ones.
  • Setting and characters inspired by friends who escaped oppressive regimes in Eritrea, grounding the tale in lived lineage of resilience.
  • “This story is about breaking free of the shackles of colonial thinking and becoming fully engaged participants in our own destinies.” (31:06, author’s statement as read by Margaret)

• Hazel (producer/commentator):

  • Contextualizes Eritrea’s revolutionary and post-colonial history, highlighting how real lived struggles shape the narrative resonance.
  • “Knowing that the characters in this story are modeled on real people seeking refuge from war is really powerful to me and grounds the story in real lineage of resistance and relentlessness. The way this story ties in real and imagined ancestors to craft new folklore for future ancestors is so, so rich and layered.” (32:15)

• Margaret Killjoy:

  • Stresses the frustration of trying to convince leaders to recognize change, drawing a parallel to contemporary struggles over climate adaptation.
  • “People are like, no, no, the clouds are always doing this thing. It'll be fine... Even when it's like the new thing, people get caught up in immediately creating that as essentially conservatism.... but also it's somehow a story of hope anyway.” (33:36)

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Notable Quotes and Moments

• The power of myth and adaptation:
  “For I think you will agree that it is always better to take shelter in a stranger's house than to refuse to leave your own when it is burning to the ground.” (06:57)

• On leadership and resistance:
  “The leaders are like lions, always hunting the weak to make way for the strong.... There is an old saying: when spiderwebs unite, they can capture a lion.” (18:32)

• Real-world resonance:
  “Our protagonists deal with a council of elders, the powers that be who even after the revolution, have become dangerously stuck in their ways... The revolution is never finished...” (32:51, Hazel)

• Refusal to cling to tradition despite crisis:
  “We are the people of the sky, young Samhar Ibrahim. But if you wish to forsake your birthright, then that is your decision.” (30:24)

• Closing image of hope:
  “Within six months the ground beneath the towers had turned into a garden... For tonight the wires will sing with joy.” (36:50)

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Timestamps for Key Segments

• 01:58 – Margaret introduces the story and its context
• 03:30–29:18 – Dramatic read-aloud of “The Cloud Weaver’s Song” (Story highlights: Afar migration, cloud-weaving culture, Simhar and Ali’s rebellion, struggle with the council, ultimate exile, and hope for renewal)
• 31:06 – Author’s statement and background (via Margaret)
• 32:15–34:41 – Hazel’s historical and thematic commentary on Eritrea, revolution, and what the story models for resistance
• 34:41 – Margaret’s closing reflections: the struggle to recognize a new reality, and how hope persists
• 36:50 – Story’s final hopeful image (transitional narration and brief, lighthearted comment on “spider mechs” as speculative technology)

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Tone & Takeaways

• Warm, storyteller’s tone: Blending grounded narration with critical, hopeful commentary.
• Rich with metaphor and symbolism: Sky, clouds, and mechs represent tradition, adaptation, and the possibilities of the future.
• Deeply rooted in real histories: Draws parallels between imaginative climate futures and lived experience of diaspora, revolution, and endurance.
• Embracing hope: Story as springboard to envision equitable, resilient futures.

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For Further Connection

• Learn more about Saul Tanpepper’s work at tanpepperwrites.com
• For more on Eritrean history or the Afterglow climate fiction anthology, explore resources linked through Cool Zone Media’s show notes.

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Quote to summarize the episode’s spirit:
"My goodness, the way this story ties in real and imagined ancestors to craft new folklore for future ancestors is so, so rich and layered."
— Hazel (32:15)

Take care of each other. Dream of the weaver’s song.

Transcript

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[Margaret Killjoy]

cool Zone Media. Book Club Book Club Book Club Book Club Club Book hello and welcome to the Cool Zone Media Book Club. The only book club where you don't have to do the reading. Because I do it for you. I'm your host Margaret Killjoy. And today how do you feel about folklore? How do you feel about children's bedtime stories? How do you feel about spider mechs? Today we are reading the Cloud Weaver Song by Saul Tanpepper which blends the lyricism and mythopoetics of folklore with just gorgeous sci fi imagery about climate refugees ancestry. Spider mechs I mentioned the spider mechs I think and struggling to convince established power structures the world is changing. It's also a story that is steeped in the language and place names of Eritrea, which is a small country in the Horn of East Africa that shares a border with Ethiopia and Sudan. This story is from a 2021 collection called Afterglow Climate Fiction for Future Ancestors, which itself started as a story contest from grist called Imagine 2020 that challenged readers to, quote, envision the next 180 years of equitable climate progress. Whether built on abundance or adaptation, reform or a new understanding of survival, these stories provide flickers of hope, even joy, and serve as a springboard for exploring how fiction can help create a better reality. Which is, you know, part of our alley. It's very up our alley. I don't know how that metaphor works. Without further ado, the Cloud Weaver's Song by Sol Tanpepper Your Great Grand Abo, 10 times removed, was the last of the Danakilia far, I say, settling back against the cushion and the first to construct the towers. A breeze passes in through the open door and dries the sweat on our brows. Tonight is the first time the temperature has been cool enough to leave the windows open, and the rooms fill with the humid aroma of the day's harvest. Before the great drying swept across the land, the Afar were a nomadic people of the Horn, shepherds mainly, who kept to themselves. Afterward they became builders and salt traders. Your great grand ahri, 10 times removed, came from the highlands, senate fidgets. Matters of ancient history hold little interest for her. She asks to hear about the Cloud Weavers instead. Let your ahri finish, little one, abolimi gently chides. It is important that you know where you come from. But I smile down at my daughter. I draw her hair away from my eyes and ask, how do you know about them? Tess told me, he says. We are sky People that are rightful places with them. Weaving the clouds, Tess fey Lemi murmurs. He rolls his eyes but gives me an amused look. Your brother's head is already in the clouds, I say, chuckling. But I will make a deal with you, Senate. I will tell you about the weavers if you promise to go to sleep right after I am finished. And also the thief of sand, senate says, sitting up straighter in her bed. Her eyes sparkle mischievously, belaying the exhaustion. She tries so hard to hide. Abou Leemi bellows out a laugh. Our daughter. I do not think she wishes to sleep at all tonight. But I know she will slumber, and soon, for the weavers and the Sand Thief are part of the Same story, and it is not very long in the telling. And afterward, maybe then, she will understand why her older brother's audacious claims are both right and wrong. As for Abalimi, he is less anxious about her daughter's weariness than for my own work yet to come. For there is so much still to do in too few hours before the sun will next rise. In the history of our people, there has never been a land more inhospitable than the Danakil. Even in the time before the Great Drying, in what was known as the Afar Triangle of the Great Horn, there existed a place so hot and so parched that almost nothing grew. Sulfur springs bubbled up from the ground wherever you stood, spewing poison that painted the rocks yellow and turned the sky sky a sickly gray. And yet, in such an inhospitable place, isolated and against all odds, a humble people thrived for a thousand years. But the world was changing, growing hotter and drier, and soon even the hardiest of the Afar were driven away by the intolerable heat. They migrated inland, for the only other direction was the sea. They surely could not go there. They ended up in the midlands of the Great Horn, which was a place of many different climates. In some areas, where the temperature had long been cooler and the air wetter, forests stood thick and tall. In others, the land was flat and suitable for growing crops. But it was in the dry lands there, among the towering termite mounds and the scorpions, that the solitary Afar found familiar surroundings. So that is where they settled, even though it was not their home. For I think you will agree that it is always better to take shelter in a stranger's house than to refuse to leave your own when it is burning to the ground. At the same time, the people of the milder midland climes, farmers mostly, were being forced deeper into the interior by the heat. There was once a beautiful city called Asmara, high on the Cabeza Plateau, a mile and a half into the sky. Asmara was a wondrous place where for a hundred thousand years the clouds drenched the air each night and rains nourished the soil. The rivers that flowed down its escarpments fed the lowlands and eventually emptied into the sea. The ancient name Asmara comes from the phrase arbate Asmara, which in the original Tigrinya means the four women who made them unite. Many centuries before, this land had been under constant threat from a common enemy. Now, as before, it was the women who brought the clans together to defend against this new danger. For a while, asmara became a sanctuary to anyone seeking refuge from the Great Drying. But the heat and drought were unrelenting foes and they drove more and more people into the city. City on the plateau. Week after week they came, year after year. And because there was only so much land to hold them all, war became inevitable. For a hundred years, the fighting waged. Now, just as there is no amount of conflict, no matter how bitterly fought, which can alter the course of nature, no volume of human blood could quench the thirst of the Great Drying. The deserts continued to expand, spreading until they reached the very ankles of the beloved city on the plateau. It is said that necessity makes us do what we must in order to survive. Eventually, the rains began to evaporate before ever reaching the ground and the rivers dried long before spilling into the sea. So the women of Asmara rose again and taught themselves how to harvest the nightly mists with threads spun from molten glass. For a while it helped, but the thirst of the Great Drying was like that of the hyenas never slaked. Not satisfied with stealing the fogs from all the lands beneath Asmara's feet, it reached up and took them from her too. Once more, necessity made the people do what they must in order to survive. The peaceful Afar had long since retreated into the clouds by building towers that reached even higher than the Kibesa plateau. Now it was their brothers and sisters, houses burning to the ground. And so they welcomed them all into the sky where the mists were still plentiful and ripe for harvesting. Simhar Ibrahim was a weaver of webs. Each night she assumed the skin of a spider and set out from her little hole to spin her delicate threads high above the ground where the clouds formed. She carefully laid out line after endless line, each one as thin as a hair and as long as a mile. To harvest the dew that condensed upon them. She gently plucked each string, sending them vibrating along their entire length. Each wire carried its own unique note, and when played all together, they sang the song of the weavers. As the droplets dropped, traveled down the wires, they merged and grew fat, creating a delicate river suspended in the sky. This is how the people harvested the clouds so that they all might live. And each night, when you heard the tune, you would know how heavily laden the wires were with mist, depending on how melodious or melancholic the notes sounded. Simhar was still a young woman when her dear friend Alimira Kadafo fell to the earth. Ali, as he was known by her, was an orphan. His mother and father had died when he was still but a child, no taller than a grown man's hip. He knew only of his parents trade from the faintest memories and the stories others told him. But as soon as he was old enough, he donned the skin of the termite, just as his Adhi and Abo had, and also as their forebears had done before them, all the way back to when they first raised their homes into the sky. Only the descendants of the Afar were allowed to wear the termite skins, for no one else dared to erect the tower so high where the air was so thin and no others could make the long and treacherous descent each day to where the air was oven hot and desert dry to collect the sand they needed to build their houses and harvest the salt that people needed to survive. And do you know what needs you in order to survive? The products and services that support this podcast?

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[Margaret Killjoy]

And we're back. For months, Samhar had been weaving longer into the night than she was supposed to, constructing larger and more intricate webs to better capture the dwindling mists. The air had been growing drier, which the leader said was due to the yearly shift in seasons, but she felt in her bones that this time was different. The capricious clouds seemed less willing than ever to relinquish their bounty to her web. Yet for all her worrying, the leaders of the council did not seem very concerned. One morning, several weeks before Ali's fall, as Sahar made her way back home, she encountered him preparing for his daily descent to the ground. Usually she would only see him in the evenings, after he had already made his rounds, trading with the growers for food and the weavers for water. The two young friends would sit together and eat their supper, watching the sun drop down onto the barren Kibasa plateau far to the west. The darkness would settle in and the mists would rise toward their backs, and when the fog overtook them and blanketed the stars above. He went off to bed whilst she would don her spider skin and begin to spin her web. Seeing him that morning, she realized how late she was in returning. He warned her to be more careful, for the rising sun would melt her threads and she could fall. He did not wish for her a fate similar to the one his parents had suffered years before. As she watched him descend into the morning mist below, she had a thought. Tonight I will spin my web down there, for that is where the clouds have gone. But her parents told her, no, it is too dangerous, they said. It is too hot and the winds are too unpredictable. And besides, how can we collect the water if the webs are below the cisterns? You must continue to weave the clouds as we have done for generations high above us. But the clouds are thicker below. Above us, Samhar, they repeated. Each year the great drying chases the clouds higher and higher. It has been this way for 200 years and is why we must build our towers a little taller each day. Samhar was defiant. She knew the clouds were no longer rising. In fact, they were falling. This is a temporary change, they assured her. We are Sky People, builders of towers and weavers of clouds. But we were not always so, samar countered. Our dearest Wulad. Listen to your parents. Do not look below for answers, for you will not find them. Our ancestors have taught us this valuable lesson. But the ancestors had also taught that necessity made them do what they must in order to survive. Simhar believed the Sky People's very existence, like that of their forebears, lay once more in the balance. The clouds are shifting, she told Ali when she met him for supper that evening. They are no longer as high as they used to be. Ali ate his injera thoughtfully but did not reply. His was a simple life of climbing and gathering and climbing and bartering day after day. He did not like to think about change. Change was what had happened when his Abo and Adi had died. In fact, he disliked it so much that his first instinct was to refuse to acknowledge it at all. But Samhar was his dear friend, and he loved and respected her, for she had a keen mind and always spoke the truth. Also, he too had sensed a shift in the weather, and it was not the same seasonal cycle he had witnessed in years past. Each morning the mists wet the tower bases longer and lower, and it took him extra time to make the treacherous climb to the ground. More than once he had nearly slipped and fallen. Today, she told him, I will need an extra allotment of sand I have already given you all I can spare, he replied. How much more can you weave? I wish to spin a whole extra web, but you are to use up every minute of darkness on the One. But I haven't used up all the mist, Simhar. If I let you have more, the builders will begin to notice the deficit tomorrow morning. She pressed as if she hadn't heard a single word he said, I will build a second web. This one will be lower while the mists are still beneath us and the sun hasn't burned them away, he scoffed. And how will you harvest the water then? The drops will fall uncollected to the ground and be wasted. The desert does not need the rain as we do. I wish to prove a point to the Council, and if I am to be confident that I am right, I must first prove it to myself. If they find out, you will be punished for breaking the rules. The leaders are like lions, always hunting the weak to make way for the strong. They will take your skin away from you and let someone else weave the clouds instead. What will you do then? There is an old when spiderwebs unite, they can capture a lion. The leaders are stubborn, this is true, but they are not stupid. I will spin my webs to capture their attention. Only then will I make them see that things are changing, even if they are changing in ways that they might not want or expect them to. They are comfortable with their life up here in the sky. But we cannot keep building higher and breathing thinner air while chasing clouds that are no longer there. Ali considered this for a long time. As he did, Samhar turned her back to the sunset for the first time and instead watched the mists rolling in from a distant sea she'd only ever seen in her dreams. Finally, when the first delicate drops of dew began to reach up and caress their skin, Ali told her what he would do. It was a tremendous amount of extra work for him, but Ali believed in his friend. It also helped that he shared her concerns. The clouds were shifting, and if the trend continued as Samar believed it would, they would eventually have no more mist to harvest. The extra thousand pounds of sand he carried threatened his skin's grip as he climbed the tower that evening. It took him far longer than usual to return to the top, and he was exhausted when he arrived. Why are you so late, Ala Mira Kadafo? The builders demanded. We were worried you had fallen just as your parents did. No reason, he told them. No reason. Are you embarrassed for falling asleep whilst gathering sand in the desert? You must be more Careful, or else you will dry up like the salt. Will you trade for your allotment or not? Why should we? You were late, they repeated. We have already traded with someone else for tomorrow's work. What am I supposed to do with the sand I have today? We will take it anyway, but give you nothing in return. Tomorrow, make sure you are back in time, or else we will tell the Council that you no longer deserve to wear the skin. This will not work, Ali thought as he left the builders. I will just have to tell Sahar at supper that I cannot get her extra sand for her wires. But it was too late to see her that evening, for the sun was already beginning to set and the mists were coiling at their feet. Sahar would have finished eating by now, and Ali still had salt yet to trade for his own dinner. He went looking for her the next day, after he had returned from the ground at the usual time with his usual load and given the builders their sand and traded his salt away. She was flushed with excitement and barely allowed him any chance to speak while they ate. I have not seen so much water in a very long time, she told him. If this continues as I expect, then I will soon tell the leaders. You cannot do that. He told her what had happened the day before. It takes me too long to gather the extra sand and far more effort to climb the tower, so that by the time I have returned, the builders have already received their allocations from other gatherers. They still take my sand and give me nothing in return, so that I am left with little to show for my efforts. I am sorry, Samhar, but I have no extra sand for you this evening. Ali lay in bed for a long time without sleeping. That night. He couldn't get Sahar's disappointment from his mind. High above him, the weavers built their webs to harvest the mists, and the songs their webs sang were the saddest he had ever heard. He decided then that he would leave earlier the next morning, an extra hour before sunrise, to gather some harsh sand. The towers would still be slick with dew, and the climb would be especially perilous. But he knew that she was right. If she was willing to break the rules for her convictions, then the risks he took were worth it. Every morning for the next month, he rose before dawn, donned his termite skin, and climbed down to the desert below. Every day of that month he toiled in the baking hot sun to gather the extra sand for his friend. And every evening he told her where he had stashed it. So that she could spin her extra web. She did not care that the water she collected spilled unused to the ground. I am doing this to be certain I am right, she told him. I hope it will not take too long before you are, he replied. It won't. Soon the lions will have no choice but to listen to reason. And why do you think they will? He asked. Because the water in the cisterns is beginning to drop. She was so proud of her work that he would not tell her how many times he had nearly fallen, or how the extra burden was wearing on his skin. He made his repairs as best he could, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before it would fail. But do you know what, Dear Listener will never fail you. The products and services that support this podcast. All of them are perfect in every way. And that's not hyperbole and this isn't sarcasm.

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[Public Investing Representative]

Support for the show comes from Public, the investing platform for those who take it seriously. On public, you can build a multi asset portfolio of stocks, bonds, options, crypto and now generated assets which allow you to turn any idea into an investable index with AI. It all starts with your prompt. From renewable energy companies with high free cash flow to semiconductor suppliers growing revenue over 20% year over year. You can literally type any prompt and put the AI to work. It screens thousands of stocks, builds a one of a kind index and lets you back test it against the S&P 500. Then you can invest in a few clicks. Generated assets are like ETFs with infinite possibilities, completely customizable and based on your thesis, not someone else's. Go to public.com podcast and earn an uncapped 1% bonus when you transfer your portfolio. That's public.com podcast paid for by Public Investing Brokerage Services by Open to the Public Investing Inc. Member FINRA and SIPC Advisory Services by Public Advisors llc. SEC Registered Advisor Generated Assets is an interactive analysis tool. Output is for informational purposes only and is not an investment recommendation or advice. Complete disclosures available at public.com disclosures this

[Jacob Goldstein]

is Jacob Goldstein from what's yous Problem? When you buy business software from lots of vendors, the costs add up and it gets complicated and confusing. Odoo solves this. It's a single company that sells a suite of enterprise apps that handles everything from accounting to inventory to sales. Odoo is all connected on a single platform in a simple and affordable way. You can save money without missing out on the features you need. Check out [e-mail] that's o d o o.com.

[Margaret Killjoy]

And we're back. The morning before Ali's last day on the towers dawned especially hot. After less than an hour on the ground, he was forced to begin his long ascent, carrying only his usual burden of sand and none of salt. As he climbed, he told himself that Samhar would just have to do without tonight. But when he reached the place where he had been hiding her extra allotment, he decided to give it all to her. He could not bear for her to be disappointed, and what she was doing was just too important, not just to her, but to all the people of the sky. The Builders were furious, and they threatened to tell the leaders of his indolence. Ali didn't care that they were wrong. Soon they would see what he and Simhar were doing, and they would have to acknowledge the truth. The clouds were shifting, the cisterns were drying, but most important of all, the Great Drying was drawing to an end. Instead, they caught him the next day, hiding the sand he had collected, and they took him straight to the Council. Al Emera Cadafo, the leaders said. Why are you stealing sand from the Builders? How can I steal sand that I have collected? It is mine to trade as I see fit. That is not how it is done. We are. We are all essential parts of this community. Each of us plays an important role. Some grow food, some make clothes. Some harvest water, and others build. You collect sand and salt. Without these things, how can we do what is necessary to survive? When you break this chain, you steal from us all. When one of us fails, we all risk falling. Samar did not hear of Ali's banishment until she returned from her weaving the next morning. All night she had suspected something terrible had happened to him because he hadn't met her for supper, and the cache where he hid her sand had been empty. When she learned of his fate, she went straight to the council to beg for a change of heart. But Ali was already gone, and the leaders would not be persuaded to allow him to return. Someone stronger now wears his skin, they told her. Someone else who is willing to do the work as it has been done for generations. You have made a terrible mistake, she cried. Simhar Ibrahim, they scolded. Your job is to collect the water, not to worry about the sand or those who would steal it from us. But how can I collect water if there are no clouds? By continuing to weave. Be patient, for the mists will return. Every year the great drying pushes them higher, which is why we must build our towers taller. Without sand, we cannot do that. Without water, we cannot survive. The cisterns are falling because there's no water to collect. The air is dry, this is true, but it is nothing to worry about. Soon the seasons will shift again and the clouds will return. Build your webs as you have been taught, and before you know it, the wires will once again sing a joyous song. The then you will see that we are right. Are you not a cloud weaver after all? I am, she declared. But it is also true that I am the thief of sand, not Alamira Kadafo. I asked him to give it to me so that I might weave an extra web each night. The council members glanced, one to another in puzzlement. It is not stealing. When you have been using it for the betterment of the community. Your extra work is to be commended. The mist I gathered was never collected. I let it fall to the ground. How could this be? Because I wove my lines below the cisterns where the nightly mists have lately formed. There is nowhere for the water to collect, they said in astonishment, for they still did not comprehend her intent. Why would you do such a wasteful thing? To prove that, we must stop looking ever higher. The answer is below us. The great Drying is over. We are the people of the sky, young Samhar Ibrahim. But if you wish to forsake your birthright, then that is your decision. Tomorrow at first light, you will be taken to join your friend on the ground. It took her nearly the whole night to descend the tower in her stolen spider suit. The machine was not built for climbing, but for dangling and spinning. She found Ali sitting in the shadow at the base, his mouth open to capture the drops that fell from the tattered remnants of a month's worth of secret webs. It was the only thing keeping him alive. Each night after that, she climbed to where the mists rolled in and wove a new web using the sand he brought her to spin into glass each day. Together they collected what water they could, although most of it fell uncaptured to the ground. They found the first seedling a month later, and within six months the ground beneath the towers had turned into a garden. She is asleep, abalimi whispers. I kiss my precious daughter on the cheek, and she doesn't even stir, for she is exhausted from her hard work. I know that when she harvests the crops each day, she looks to the skies and thinks that what we are doing here on the ground is so exhilarating. She takes after her brother that way. Someday she will stay awake long enough to hear the story to its completion. Maybe it will be tomorrow, or perhaps next year. Maybe it will even be before the sky people's cisterns empty for good and they realize the great Drying is finally over. Then they too will come down from the towers, and she will understand that this is the day for which we have been preparing. It is why I don my skin each night and weave my webs in the clouds that no longer form so high in the sky. We need the rain, but so does the earth. Ready, Samhar? My dear Sabai? Alamara asks as he finishes checking my harness. I eagerly nod, for the mists are already forming and they look to be especially thick tonight. Sleep well, my children. I will whisper and dream of the weaver's song. For tonight the wires will sing with joy. The End Spider mech, Spider mech does whatever a spider can. Okay, maybe they're mechs. Maybe they're closer to powered armor. It is hard to tell. And also there was a termite mech for climbing, too. Hazel loves a mech and is always looking for good Mecha fiction mech here, of course, meaning giant robot that is vaguely human or animal shaped. But as for about this story, I'm actually going to start with what Sol Tanpepper, the story's author, has to say about this one so much of my work features characters forced into the darkest circumstances that when Grist challenged writers to imagine brighter outcomes for our planet's climate challenges, I was intrigued. The result of this endeavor is the Cloud Weavers Song, which won second place in their inaugural contest. The story is set in the Horn of Africa, home to one of the world's most diverse and extreme environments and some of the most beautiful people, but also one of the most oppressive political regimes, Eritrea. The main characters, Samhara and Alamira, were modeled after my dear friends Wadasi and Yukayo, whose resilience in escaping that oppression and making a better world for their future ancestors inspires me every day to do the same. This story is about breaking free of the shackles of colonial thinking and becoming fully engaged participants in our own destinies. And then Hazel, who helps behind the scenes with this podcast, writes, quote, we obviously can't do a whole podcast about the political history of Eritrea, but best I can gather, and to tell a complicated story very quickly, Eritrea had a strong revolutionary Marxist faction in the post colonial period, during the nation's liberation from Italian imperialism, and later from Ethiopia from around the 1960s and 1990s. Then in the 90s, a guy who himself isn't really a Marxist comes to power within that faction and is able to totalize power for himself and runs a pretty decidedly not free country. And this is Hazel still talking about this. Knowing that the characters in this story are modeled on real people seeking refuge from war is really powerful to me and grounds the story in real lineage of resistance and relentlessness. My goodness, the way this story ties in real and imagined ancestors to craft new folklore for future ancestors is so, so rich and layered. The imagery of the towers of climate refugees taking to the sky, striving for lofty ideals particularly hits in this context. Our protagonists deal with a council of elders, the powers that be who even after the revolution, have become dangerously stuck in their ways. In the end, it's on them to find their own path forward, to seek their own refuge, to cultivate their own relationship with the natural world around them, to find their own revolution. I will always respect a story that can smartly remind an audience of the shortfalls of revolution, or maybe rather imagining that the revolution is never finished while still calling us into revolutionary action and charging us with a duty to fight for a better future. And then, I guess, my own take on it. I really like that it's a story about how hard it is to convince stubborn leaders that climate change is real. That set after climate change is real and has happened, you know, people are like, no, no, the clouds are always doing this thing. It'll be fine. It's just going to come back. Everything's going to be the way it's been for 200 years. And how people get caught up, even when it's like the new thing, people get caught up in immediately creating that as essentially conservatism. Yeah. And also just how frustrating it is trying to convince people that yes, in fact, the sky is falling. Eh? Oh my God, I didn't even get it. The sky is falling, the clouds are getting lower, but also it's somehow a story of hope anyway. Saul tanpepper His Bio Saul Tanpepper writes in a range of speculative fiction genres. He is the author of the popular post apocalyptic survival series Bunker 12 and Z Pipe Apocalypto as well as the climate fiction KLI Phi series Scorched Earth and Drowned Earth. A former combat medic and retired PhD bioscientist as Kenneth James Howe, the Eritrean Diaspora memoir is relentless and I will not grow downward. More about his writing can be found at his website. Tan Pepper writes and that's like T A N P E P P E R Rights. You can also connect with him on social media. I'm Margaret Killjoy. You can find me on the Internet in a few of the places, specifically Blue sky and Instagram. And I have a substack newsletter that comes out every week in your email inbox. It's free. I talk about the world every now and then. Paid subscribers get another one that's more personal. Eva does her audio engineering. It makes everything sound really pretty and Hazel helps with scripting and all that stuff. And yeah, Ice Free Palestine. Take care of each other. See you next week.

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[Margaret Killjoy]

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[Margaret Killjoy]

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[Jacob Goldstein]

This is Jacob Goldstein from what's yous Problem? When you buy business software from lots of vendors, the costs add up and it gets complicated and confusing. Odoo solves this. It's a single company that sells a suite of enterprise apps that handles everything from accounting to inventory to sales. Odoo is all connected on a single platform in a simple and affordable way. You can save money without missing out on the features you need. Check out [e-mail] that's O D O

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