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256 pages, Kindle Edition
Published July 20, 2026
(...) I argue that dystopian conventions are married to disability, and they cannot be divorced, no matter how good their lawyers are. It’s a genre that circles around the same anxiety over and over: what happens when a body refuses to comply?
(...)war is one of the clearest mass-disabling events there is. State violence, forced labour, war, starvation, imprisonment, underfunded medical systems, bigotry, systemic exclusion-these worlds feel dystopian not just because the government may be cruel, but because the environment itself is designed to produce disabled bodies.
(...) anyone with two braincells to rub together knows that disabilities aren't being cured.
Disabled people are going missing.
A laugh and a shake of the head is the best medicine I have since they outlawed psychiatric care. Otherwise known as Darwin’s Law, it was pitched as the final solution for the trans agenda. No more money going to “crazy people”.
“They kill you anyway and turn you into dirt!” Soraya said gleefully, drawing their finger across their throat and miming a gruesome death.“No they don’t,” Marjorie said. “They just kick you out once they realize you’re not serious about being recycled.”“Committing suicide,” Magdi said, and picked at the edges of a hole in their jeans. “And it’s compost, not dirt.”
Humanity, it seemed, never changed—neither their penchant for companionship nor their fondness for mutual destruction.
When there’s disaster, always the most vulnerable people get forgot and left to die. Old. Poor. Disabled. Jeff’s mama was an amputee. She didn’t make it out of Hurricane Katrina. Neighbors busy saving themselves, roads choked up. Same old story.
These fluffy fake seal pups call out for their mamas in squeaks made by someone who’s never seen a real seal before, but who thinks they know what they must sound like based on ancient animated gifs. The mama seals don’t answer, of course. They’re animatronics and no one remembered to recharge their lithium batteries.
There’s no cowering, no folding in on ourselves and fawning. Not one of us keeps our mouths shut. There is no more being the bigger person when you’re not considered a person, after all.
(...) nearly everyone needed medication at some point in their lives. Many of them needed medication to keep themselves alive, like those who relied on daily insulin.
Or those who would die without treatment whenever their illnesses flared up, like Kael. But it was prohibitively expensive to acquire those medications the legal way, and that was where the biohackers came in.
Eat a few dozen burgers loaded with artificial calories your body will absorb and transform into fat safe for harvest, and your belly will bulge enough that you can earn a sizable cheque once a month. Ten kilos on, ten off, every four weeks. No time to heal, really, (...). You’re a commodity now, even if wealthy people bid hundreds of dollars not to have to sit next to you on flights.
Iris is a zombie. It sounds like an obvious statement. They're walking through an apocalypse, and Iris' skin visibly rots from her bones.
But for the first day, Penelope manages to forget the context. They're just two chronically ill girls walking through ruins, co-parenting a cat with tragic survival instincts.
‘His face,’ Paul wheezes into the wet grass as she kneels beside him, a tentative hand on his shoulder. ‘His face. Did you see his face?’ ‘It’s okay, Paul…’‘It’s not okay. It’s catching. Everyone’s fucked. (...)’
Rob wasn’t due back for another thirteen hours. She’d be in the pens by then – head shaved, nursing a brand. (...) She knew he’d stop by the pens eventually, like all the men of the town did. It wouldn’t be for her. This was one of the better towns, they said.
(...) Roach was fine, basically fine. As long as he had his cane. And his costume. And his disinfectants. As long as no virus struck him down and no flare chewed through his jagged edges, he was fine. (...) He was basically ablebodied. If you didn't look too close. If you squinted a little. If you didn't pull the curtain aside.
In the midst of their gun-laden posturing, she was the eye of a hurricane they’d been too cowardly to face.
In a space war, you want something that will kill people without damaging valuable infrastructure. Better still, something that will incapacitate people, forcing the enemy to waste resources.