As soon as I wrote this story I realised I would most likely have to self-publish it. To my delighted surprise, though, an editor at one of the big online magazines offered me, shortly after, to publish it. Two days later, however, the publisher of the same magazine declined the story, not wanting to deal with any potential fallout. I then showed it – unofficially – to a handful of people, and got a potential offer to publish it in another big magazine, if only I were to change some of the references in the story.
I decided, instead, to publish it here.
I think this is an excellent story and am sorry that some magazines are afraid of “any potential fallout.” This is what stories should do — challenge us as readers, make us confront our assumptions and expectations, offer us diverse views of the status quo.
Click on the excerpt below to read the full story, and consider donating a couple of bucks to Mr. Tidhar.
My earliest memory is of white men in white coats holding clipboards, examining me. They measured my skull and prodded me with thick pink fingers and made careful notes. There was a war coming, they kept saying, and we had to be prepared.
Because of aliens.