New Release // Planet Rasputin


Earth in the shallows of the 22nd Century where viable tokamaks have liberated all [well, most].

On the face of things, Slovenia is part of an alliance of predominantly anarcho-communist nations, but in truth it’s been co-opted by Potočnik, a crypto-tyrant with purple eyes. He dumps Sila, his friend Chu, his ex-friend Gašper, the physicist Nakagami, the militant Aleša and five other dissidents on a [prototype] ship and sends them off on a Mission of Progress; to develop a potential base on Mars.

The ship has strict rules: No out-going messages, no inter-crew communication longer than four hours each day, and no entertainment.

Can Sila & co. convince the ships AI to turn the ship round and ram bridge-first into Potočnik’s HQ?

Will Rasputin turn up at some point?


This is my attempt at a sci-fi epic with anarcho-communist undertones [or just outright tones, really]. A bit of absurdism thrown in too, mostly to cover my weak science.

Cover is done by the artist chained to my wrist, Soren, over at corpsehaus

You can buy the paperback here but it’s quite expensive so you can also read the PDF version for free

Planet Rasputin [Prologue]


I’m gonna be putting Planet Rasputin out there on Monday [June 6th], so here’s the prologue to either suck you into, or put you off, buying the whole thing.

To summarise, it’s set in 2114 and features:

an ion-drive ship with Slovene dissidents

Martian bases

Void-Helenism + death

Undiscovered dwarf planets in the Kuiper Belt


The Lem-12 Field to circumvent spin gravity

invented social theory


and a lot more…



Roughly Halfway To Mars


The Martians were indistinguishable from one another by rank, by fashion, by etiquette, all striving to ensure the red vegetation was maintained, working not because they were coerced, but through a deep sense of duty and fulfilment…

   ‘Why’s the vegetation red?’

…one day, they would work a shift in the clothing factory, the next they would switch to food production, eschewing any form of specialization, though there were some that did exist…

   ‘They change their jobs?’

…the elder Martian had previously been married to six other Martians, some male, some female, a concept that Leonid attempted to comprehend but with great difficulty…

   ‘Six people! Will I have to do that too?’

…the corpse of Sterni stared sideways towards the wall, at the poster of the first Martian factory, and Leonid stared too, falling onto the ground and weeping over the stained history, trying to pick up larger puddles of blood and return them to his friend’s body…

   ‘I don’t like it…’

…but the crime was as old as the first sharpened rock, as hellish as a nightmare based on other nightmares, as evil as the first devil that ever popped into man’s head, and there was no escape from it, not on Mars, not in this red-hued paradise of rotational shifts and unparalleled job satisfaction…

   ‘Rasputin, stop…’

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And Then…


Cut in half at the waist and still giving out pep talks.

Punched through a wall complete with outline but didn’t see the guy who did it.

Unsurprised when zealot’s little fob ends up impaled on out-of-nowhere spike.

Chained in abject fuck pose, whiny.

The wife still went back, after he threatened to chop her?

Who’s this?


Ah, not now mum, I’m trying to think. Map my way out of this shit.

No money

some money.

maybe enough money

to get Portuguese lessons. Move to Lisboa. Glare at all those pastel coloured buildings until I’m in one. Fuck a poetess. Mimic Pessoa. Achieve something intangible that I don’t yet know of, that might add something in some way.

Why does Nezuko have breasts? She’s 12.


Tak forced himself off the couch the same moment he saw 48 episodes to go on I Died And Got Reincarnated As A Reincarnation Machine Capable of Infinitely Reincarnating Boy cos if he didn’t he’d never leave the flat.

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[Destiny] Chapter 1: Cabinet Standoff


‘The ship accelerates, no visuals…they only had £50 per series…but we know the ship accelerates cos Su Lin says so, and Dayna says, Dr Plakson, she’s dead, and Avon says, who, and then…then the video cuts off, I don’t know why. Upload limit maybe. But it’s so cold, so un star trek.’

‘See, Dr Plakson dies and Avon doesn’t care. He even makes a joke of it.’

‘Avon, the show’s hero. The sociopath.’

‘No reaction?’

Sila rapped his knuckles on the cabinet door, trying to play the Blake’s 7 theme but getting stuck after the first three bars.

‘No music, professor?’

‘No sci-fi?’

He switched to the paintings on the wall, portraits of long ago Slovene men, stern faces, either poets or dictators, definitely not builders, definitely not Ugresic or Ivana Kobilca.

Was this it?

The best Slovenia could do?

Turning back to the cabinet, he tried another jibe, calling out the whole room for its blandness, its lack of technicolour and stern female poets.

‘Professor…really…you should be embarrassed to be here.’

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Fritz Lang’s Destiny [Serial]


The beginning of a potentially never-ending web serial.

Follow the chapters below as they’re posted here on the blog, or go to the menu page to find the complete list.

Updates every Monday [or the next day if I get sick].



Dared by a Professor of Dark Light to find and kill him in a cabinet [allegedly], Sila sets himself on a path to do exactly that.

His weapon? A green dagger.

Obstacles? A lost Chinese woman luring pervs up to Ljubljana castle at way past midnight, out of phase Krsnik, a Danish child demon that never stops coming, an Italian racist, other racists, a Pakistani siren on an overnight ferry, up and down responses to constant failure, the Sad Count of Innsbruck, stuffed Romulan dummies, vague ennui, and other mythology I haven’t made up yet.

Theme? Family. Sacrifice?

Here’s Chapter 1: Cabinet Standoff to start you off…

-EK- [PART 3]

C090 Robots of Death - Who Back When | A Doctor Who Podcast


Stasi iconography was fresh as fuck

‘til the fax machine broke


EK detached from the white board, the Algerian Foreign Minister’s plan to open Assia Djebar Institutes in 82 countries, and focused on the frozen ray of light coming in from Proxima b.

Within that light was a novel idea.

If he could just extract it and edit himself to pass as its creator then-

A noise from somewhere.

EK eyes stretched to 82% exposure and looked right.

The door was opening.

An industrial door.

This wasn’t Triton, it was YAK DESIGN LTD.


brain mode recovery level high idea in still ATION


Despite presenting as a 94% approximation of a human, EK went unnoticed by the owner of YAK DESIGN LTD. As did the broken lock. Strange.

In fact, the work the guy did was so loud that EK was able to open up his phone, check the opening time of the gallery next door, wait forty-five minutes then stand up, walk out and ask Maneka if he could use her computer for half an hour.

‘Do you live near here?’

‘Very close.’

‘You don’t want to go back and-…’

‘My computer is broken.’


‘And my four guardians are abusive.’

Maneka tried to process ‘abusive’ and ‘four guardians’ but had no idea what to say beyond ‘sorry’ so she went with sorry and told EK he could use the computer as long as he liked.

EK sat down with his back to a blue circle surrounded by half open doors and loaded up LIFE SHIP.

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-EK- [Part 2]

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No one coddled the workers quite like Eichmann

up against the darts board


It was a faint blip on the engrams now, but EK vaguely remembered Scientist 3, 1 and 2 talking about Fo Tan once, saying it was a place locals used to shoot everyman porn, but when he checked the map outside the MTR all he saw was industrial units.

Picking one near the edge of the slope leading up to the mansions of the infamous spectral tycoons, EK walked past the security uncle without hassle and took the stairs to the 16th floor. There were twelve units along one corridor, lots of crates and tubing lying around outside, and two of the doors were open.

One was Redder Rum Post-Future Gallery, which shut at 9pm, and the other was YAK DESIGN LTD.

EK tried the gallery first, looking for sockets and places to conceal himself, but there was nothing concrete, only a few loose cushions and a green “winners” podium placed in the centre of the room. A tall, foreign woman, possibly Kenyan, stood by the far wall, back turned, touching the edges of a painting. By her feet, a laptop with a cable running behind a taped-up box…wah, a socket. Had to be. And the woman still hadn’t noticed him.

Creeping up behind the woman, EK positioned his hands an inch away from both sides of her neck and initiated ‘twist’ mode…but, as soon as he rehearsed the killing, a shock of green hit, lighting up his forehead and forcing his arms back down to the side.

The faint ‘grah’ sound EK emitted got the woman’s attention and, when she realised how close he was, instinct threw out a claw.

EK dodged, thanks to his LIV-LET reflexes, and took five steps back, almost tripping over the ‘third place’ block of the podium.

‘Waaa…’ said the woman, dropping the claw and quickly reclaiming it.

‘Sorry, I walk very quietly.’


‘I don’t intend to hurt you.’

The woman said something in an unrecognised language a few times, possibly fuck, then hurried over and half-offered a hand.

‘Are you okay?’

‘I did not fall.’

‘You startled me, coming in like that…’

‘That was unintended.’

‘…but it’s my fault too…’


‘…I left the door open and had my back turned.’


‘Just…try to make louder footstep sounds next time.’

‘I will.’

The claw in her hand wasn’t a weapon as EK had suspected, it was actually some kind of artisan tool, and she returned to the canvas with it.

‘Is this painting yours?’ EK asked, delaying his real questions.

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-EK- [PART 1]

CHOPPING MALL is Getting a Remake... Sort of


Credit to the cameraman

for diving into Neptune

 face first


Scientist 4 sat on the highest stool, in a lab that looked more like a Varo exhibition, studying the EK-BOT in front of him.

The maintenance crew had done a decent job repairing it – refilling the cheeks, adding more eyelashes, growing out the fringe – but the greyish tint was still there, as if someone had underlaid a steel sheet in the planning stage and then been cremated before having the chance to take it out again.

‘Hello EK.’

‘Am I here?’


‘My face feels different.’

‘It’s been repaired.’

EK nodded, looking at the files on the desk. ‘Am I ready to liquidate the Algerian Foreign Minister?’

‘That’s been re-assigned.’


‘You don’t have to say understand.’


‘You can try alternatives.’

EK paused, tilted its head left. ‘Comprehend.’

Scientist 4 smirked, realised he was smirking and stopped. Comprehend was close to understand. Not necessarily humour. Could be EK only knew those two words.

‘You look like you are thinking,’ said EK, increasing eyeball exposure by seven percent.


‘Are you thinking about the Algerian Foreign Minister?’


‘Are you thinking about Scientist 2?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Scientist 3 told one of the maintenance crew that the two of you were visiting hotels.’

‘You heard her say that?’

‘Last night, during the fifth of my seven semi-alert phases of repair. Neither of them were aware that I was receiving.’

‘I see.’

EK stared at Scientist 4’s forehead, something they’d programmed him to do after reading Metal Rising: Intimidation in the Age of High Self-Esteem by Chu Tsin Suet.

‘What is it, EK?’

‘Are you visiting hotels with Scientist 2?’

‘Of course not. He’s married.’

‘That is not a physical obstacle.’

‘No, but it’s-…’ Scientist 4 turned the next word quickly into a cough and tried not to look left; a classic sign of guilt. Instead, he looked down, at the files he’d brought in for this exact kind of moment. ‘I think we should get back to your mission.’


‘The four of us have decided that you are potentially capable of genius. Or at the very least, creativity.’

‘On what basis?’

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Cantonese Manichean Corridor


Forced against my will to consume Disney but not really.

When it comes to languages, especially Cantonese, I usually go with books or things I already know so I won’t be completely lost when I read them.

I read dozens of Geronimo Stilton books when I first started learning, the ones with a castle on the cover or a horror element initially then, later, the one where Stilton is on a fitness binge.

It’s a kind of brain death, but you’ve got to do it.

Cos then you get to the non-translated stuff

like Wai Si Lei.


Somewhere in my room, there’s a box with about 20-30 local Hong Kong sci-fi novels, all in Chinese, and I don’t think I’ve read more than five pages of any of them.

Give me a week of no interruptions and I could probably get through it, but it’d take a lot of dictionary work and only a vague intellectual concept as to what was going on in the plot. I wouldn’t be able to really feel any of it. Or judge the writing.

It is my sincere hope to one day reach the level where I can write a review of one of these novels that doesn’t sound like a seven year old’s school book report.

If it happens, I’ll put it up here.


‘We must expect not one, but a multitude of revolutions taking place in different countries at different times.’

Red Star by Bogdanov, the anti-War of The Worlds.

Not that I’ve read it yet. Just bits here and there. A utopian, communist society on Mars, capitalist drudgery on Earth, a Russian Bolshevik sliding between the two…

In some ways, Bogdanov saw Disney coming, only he called it the ruling classes and overstated its ability to put together military expeditions. Then he sailed off into the realm of endless blood transfusions. Interesting guy.

Would he have borrowed Jedi Academy from the library?

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The case of the man from Japan // Andre “Bre” Breton

Elementary, Dear Data « Mission Log Podcast


Chapter 1: A Visitor Calls


It was a cold, breezy, temperate, zealous, overly described morning on Baker Street when Sherlock Holmes.

“If I’m not mistaken, Watson.”

“But Holmes!”

Murderer of four husbands walked in and threw down two teabags, announcing a surprisingly tall man from the embassy of Japan.

The tall man walked in, bowing.


“You have come from the butchers in Dundee, recently fingered your stepdaughter, dabble in alchemy and have a fettered interest in ‘no hands’ pottery.”

‘But Holmes!”

“Case. Confusing. Help.”

“Say no more. Watson, call a taxi. Mrs Hudson, isolate.”


Chapter 2: A Pleasant Journey


Near Bordeaux

Stared at the tip of his pipe

Near Lisbon

gambled with Watson

Near Mauritania

Tutted at the blacks

Near Lagos

nice church

Near the Cape of Good Hope

Stared at what used to bend, resentful

Near Madagascar

Wanked over rare bee

In the Indian Ocean

Scraped off the grottiest of the wallpaper

In the games room

Near Sri Lanka

Watched young boys run from Arthur C Clarke

Near Bali

Struggled to breathe

Collapsed on top of Watson

Near Hong Kong

bit his tongue

Near Taiwan

worked on his Japanese

Near Yokohama

lurked under the rustiest of the metal stairs

As the ladies came down

In Yokohama

Said Konnichiwa


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