The girl lived in the basement where the air was cool and damp and quiet. Company was coming over tonight, her mother had said, so the girl had better make sure her room was spotless.
The mud looked up at him and grumbled, “Who the hell are you?”
The musty smell of the grass and ground clogged his nostrils as he strained for a single, clean breath and dug his fingers deep into the dirt. His eyelids quivered and strained to open while he felt himself mixing into the ground as blood and flesh sought refuge in the soil of the battlefield.
This story from issue 2 (August, 2009) is one of the earliest known examples of Afrofuturist steampunk. Resistance and revolution served up on a memorable plate of characters and airships.
This 2009 reprint by the late Eugie Foster is one that feels eerily prescient.
Citizens change their identities based on the masks they are mandated to wear. But one person longs to be their true self. Eugie's story is an incisive, devastating look at society and its control of self-identity.
When you voluntarily walked underground, you had no idea how long you’d be there.
People said you were crazy for doing it, but you’d been called crazy, and worse, for years.