Excerpts Science Fiction Read an Excerpt From Voidverse by Damien Ober In the void, two eternal forces are about to collide in an epic showdown. By Damien Ober | Published on February 26, 2026 Comment 0 Share New Share We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from Voidverse by Damien Ober, a science fiction novel publishing with Saga Press on March 10. When the Sinker was a child, all she knew was violence. To survive, she fled into the Void—a seemingly infinite nothingness where people live on “rocks,” individual lands spread out in all directions, floating in the vast empty space. Some rocks are giant magnets, others burn with eternal flame, and some are influenced by seemingly magical anomalies with such great powers that evil forces would stop at nothing to possess them. And while most are afraid of traveling through the Void, the Sinker is not. With a sword on her back, she speeds through the darkness, running from a past that is quickly gaining on her.Emery only knows the comfort of Fairviel, but when her son falls ill and the Sinker arrives on her doorstep, she ventures into the Void in search of a cure. When she returns, Fairviel is destroyed. With no home, Emery begins to sink, chasing a recurring dream that feels bigger than a dream, that feels like the key to everything.But they are not alone in the Void. Mercenaries rise and fall around them, princes and kings guard their kingdoms, and a great machine fuels its ascent by consuming all in its path. With the Void destabilizing, Emery and the Sinker find themselves at a turning point in history, a moment when everything could collapse or realign, and the only thing that may save them exists at the bottom of it all. Or so legend says… Frozen Rock The Sinker angled her hips and shoulders and pointed her helmet and held her arms tight, and her speed increased and the friction rolled past her and pressed her on faster, and Roseblood faded into the overvoid and all there was again was the pure darkness of the void, and she thought about her name, which she hadn’t in a thousand rests, three thousand perhaps, and she remembered what her father used to tell her, about the way the water moved, different where he was from than on any other rock, but he was a liar, all of it a lie, at best a fanciful exaggeration to entertain a young girl, and she thought of the toothy woman’s story, the different maths of the sink that would need to line up to make it true, the numbers and distances rattling in formation through the Sinker’s mind a whole rest straight, without the slightest loosening of her dive, arms pinned tight, legs pressed together, the bulbs of her ankles interlocked, the clicky sound of the woman’s voice ghosting thinner and thinner, until it too was gone behind her like Roseblood and Fairviel and all the other rocks, and when she finally did break her pose for pill and drop, the Sinker could feel the settled blood moving cool through her veins, warming as it pumped faster and her fingers and toes tingled and she shook them out and put the pill into her lips and the drop sucked down and a last full-body resettle, then arms and legs tight again, chin tucked, cutting downward through the void, the curling friction propelling her onward as it rushed past, the pressure smearing her farther into the fabric of the void to reappear where she wasn’t yet a breath before, and more unfolding void and more endless darkness and more pills and drops and short slivers of shifting and stretching and back into a knifepoint plummet, all the way across the Gratting sector before stopping a single rest to resupply and feel the wobbling of solid ground beneath her feet, then up the Degloss Updraft midoutwide, rising faster than ever in her life, only pills and drops and her long, even breaths and the dull encased drone of the sink in her helmet for ten rests straight, to the little cluster of Brund, where the rumors were more than rumors, firsthand reports of rocks stripped and bundled up square and pulped into fragments, and she plumed her map to trace the recent line of her travel, calculating her shortcut through the thinner sector and up the Degloss had saved a half dozen rests, and if her geometry was correct, she would find what she was looking for about here, her finger circling an isolated cluster of dots. She slipped the map away and pointed her helmet, and the sink thinned and widened and she arced outward and accelerated and settled again into the droning ever darkness, a long, slicing tangent across the outer rocks of the Freehold, a last stretch of dark void and droning friction and pills and drops, until a coolly glinting speck appeared in the far outwide: Frozen Rock, its icy gleam diffused by a cloud of smoke that trailed up into the overvoid. There in the darkness above it was the jagged shape of a Far Machine; and if a Far Machine was here, it meant the Construct was not far behind. The Construct, a rock that consumes other rocks. But not a rock, or not only a rock. A machine rock, fueled by the rocks it absorbs. All of it became true for her then: the woman’s clicking story, the rumors, and the more than rumors she’d tracked all the way. She could see it now, the converging paths, the symmetry, her past’s unlikely reemergence into her life after so many random directions in the sink. She swooped in closer, and the jagged shape of the Far Machine became more clear, its wide metal fins like giant saw blades, chain cannons limp along both sides, tether wires dangling from its belly, but its engines were off, tri-flaps out to float there in the uprushing, its sleeping mouth a vague darkness of gears and grinders. It was one of the larger ones—bigger itself than all of Frozen Rock—and could reduce it with little effort or resistance. So why was it waiting? the Sinker wondered. The Far Machines usually ranged out ahead in several directions, harvesting resources, or laying out possible paths for the Construct to follow. Speed, haste, and surprise were the Far Machines’ most effective weapons, appearing from the dark and reducing a rock before much could be done to resist. But there it was, hovering like some gigantic trade barge. As the Sinker angled and sank closer, a hatch on the bottom of the Far Machine opened, and a pilot ejected from the under carapace. A small team of droppers fell into flank behind him, all wearing the same drab canvas jumpsuits, all sinking in formation for Frozen Rock below. When they landed on the rear of an ice swell, the Sinker angled out and put down farther off. From a shelf away, she watched them gather, the pilot talking to them and waving his hands directionally. Going into their packs, they took out thicker jackets and put them on over their faded canvas suits. Better dressed for the cold, the pilot led them on foot toward a high wall of white ice. The Sinker followed, unnerved by the coldness of the place. It was a different cold than out in the void, a cold that radiated up through her feet, more inside the body than whipping at it from outside. It was a strange imbalance, she felt, to come in from the sink to a place even more cold. Soon a town came into view, dark iron buildings cut into the face of the sheer cliffs, stretching vertically above a wide ice floor. Along the base, several furnaces glowed, pipes webbing out to the homes above. Soot-faced workers milled about, their eyes gleaming. They nodded to the droppers and the pilot but didn’t slow their work or watch them at all once they’d passed. The smell of whatever they were burning was awful, chemical. Smoke burping from release valves draped the place in a foul obscuring mist. Several other workers were busy chipping off chunks of ice, piling them in wagons with teeth-tread tires. Everyone else was inside somewhere, the metal homes glowing with warmth high above. The town had a small center along the ice floor, a dozen crooked buildings clustered tightly around a supply store. All of it looked as frozen as the rest of the rock. What few people were out moved slowly, fighting a soul-deep battle against the cold. The Sinker slid along in the furnace shadows, watching the pilot and his men vanish one by one through the door of a dining hall. She readied her sword and unclasped her boot knife. She had determined not to let them kill if she could. But fight them all? Did they have chain guns on them? Pocket razor retracts? And if they didn’t and she did kill them all, then what? Kill the whole crew of the Far Machine? It was futile. This place was already dead, no matter what the Sinker did. But still, she was here; the droppers and the pilot were here; the people of Frozen Rock were here. Little violences she could stop with her own. The larger ones would need to be figured out later. * * * The Sinker crept down the alley to look in the window. The dining hall was all but still. The pilot and his men were the only customers, seated at a few tables in the back, all quietly looking at a menu painted on a board above the bar. A barman as large as two men was smiling as he stepped over. The pilot smiled back and began talking, but it was only a hushing murmur to the Sinker, out in the cold alley. There was no bullying or wild behavior. They seemed to treat the big barman with the upmost respect. “Where you coming in from?” The Sinker looked to see an older woman leaned out on the porch of the supply shop next door, huddled in a puffy fur jacket, smoking a root as thick as her finger. “Get out of here,” the Sinker said. Buy the Book Voidverse Damien Ober Buy Book Voidverse Damien Ober Buy this book from: AmazonBarnes and NobleiBooksIndieBoundTarget “What?” “Take your family, whatever you can carry, and get off this rock.” The root hung limp in the woman’s fingers. She remembered it and took a long drag.  “Code here is I got to be nice to people when they arrive, but after that I’m allowed to tell them to go fuck themselves.” She tossed the root, and it sizzled where it hit the ice floor. Inside the dining hall, the orders were all in and the drinks arrived. The pilot was up, patting shoulders, waving and joking as he made for the door. When he reemerged out onto the main walkway all alone, the Sinker slipped from the alley and became part of the dark, leaning shadows behind him. At a distance, she followed the pilot through a fissure in the wall and up a series of catwalks to a small iron house jutting from the high ice cliffs. The Sinker watched as he knocked and waited outside the door, his breath punching out curt tufts of vapor. When the door opened, a woman was there, pulling him into a big hug. Even from a distance, the Sinker could see a change come over the pilot’s thinly bearded face, a softening of his eyes, a tight, wavering lip. When the pilot reemerged a short while later, the Sinker tracked him back down the tilting stairs, then looped wider and dropped to reach the ice floor ahead of him. As he passed, she formed suddenly from the darkness. The pilot’s eyes went wide. He stumbled and was yanked upright and pressed back against the ice wall, sword edge to his throat. “Move and my sword moves,” the Sinker told him. He went still, glaring at her, his outrage failing to hide his fear. “Why are you here?” the Sinker demanded. “Why is the Construct coming to this sector of the sink?” He looked at her differently now. “Who are you?” She pulled him away from the wall and slammed him back, thunking his head off the ice. His eyes rolled as the Sinker pressed her sword in snug under his chin. “This place is already gone,” he spat. “If you really know what the Construct is, you know what I say is true. You know there’s nothing you or anyone can do.” “This is your last chance to answer. You won’t be able to when your head’s not attached to your body.” And she pressed the sword edge deeper, drawing a single rivulet of blood that ran down his shivering neck. “Orders!” he blurted. “They want something! The Garent and the barons. They’ve altered course to come and get it. The Garent himself ordered it.” The Sinker loosened her grip for the slightest intake of a breath. “What is it they want?” The pilot shook his head, outraged and amused at once. “They don’t tell us! Look at me!” He tugged his canvas suit, filthy and overworn and now stained with fresh blood. “We haven’t been to the Construct in a thousand rests. They relay instructions. We obey. All the Far Machines have been reassigned.” “What is its destination? Where is this thing it wants?” He bit his lip, his face trembling, working to hold her gaze. “Those people up there,” she said. “Your family, or an old lover, someone you care about. You came down to warn them to leave.” She let this sit on him a breath. “You know I can’t stop it. But I can warn the people there.” The pilot’s gaze flicked away, to that wall-clinging house way above. “A place called the Slant,” he finally said. “The Kingdom of the Scorched Dome. Three other Far Machines are set to converge there, thirty rests from now. That’s all I know.” The Sinker’s eyes stepped back, seeing in her mind the map and its projected motes, the layout of the sink around her, the angle and radial that would take her to the Slant. “The Garent,” she said, “what does he look like?” The man was confused for a breath but did not hesitate. “Old,” he said, “an old man.” The Sinker caught a shifting of the pilot’s eyes, to something in the alley behind her. She turned to see a pasty-faced officer holding a chain gun, his eyes fixed hard on the pilot. “Traitor,” he hissed. His young face was filled with confusion and rage, and with no further hesitation he pulled the trigger. The Sinker spun the pilot into the storm of razor and chain. She heard the crisp, wet tearing of his flesh, then felt a hard bite in her thigh. She screamed, and when she opened her eyes saw the pilot’s stunned face, so completely still. The only motion was a worm of red blood escaping his eye. She heard the clacking, then the distant thunk and tumble of the chain gun firing again. A hard jolt shook her hips, and she felt the wood-cracking sensation of her own head knocking off the ice floor. She swam in the hazy layer between sub and conscious. She was crawling, the rock surface cold on her forearms; then she realized she was no longer crawling but lying face down. She heard a high hiss, thin and piercing, and a deep crack under her, then an explosion along the ice wall as the furnaces burst and all turned dark and everything was erased. Excerpted from Voidverse by Damien Ober. Copyright © 2026. Reprinted by permission of Saga Press at Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved. The post Read an Excerpt From <i>Voidverse</i> by Damien Ober appeared first on Reactor.

Movies & TV Star Trek: Starfleet Academy Theatre Kids — Star Trek: Starfleet Academy’s “The Life of the Stars” Tilly arrives at the Academy to lead a drama workshop, while Sam’s holographic glitches continue… By Keith R.A. DeCandido | Published on February 26, 2026 Credit: Paramount+ Comment 0 Share New Share Credit: Paramount+ One of the things I really like about how television in general has evolved over the past couple of decades is that the folks writing them and acting in them have finally started to admit that trauma is a thing and that actions have actual consequences. Part of this is a natural byproduct of the trend toward serialization and, even in shows that aren’t serialized, stronger continuity between episodes. And it’s all for the better, because I have always found it frustrating that shows haven’t dealt with those consequences. I think it was one of the reasons why I loved, for example, Hill Street Blues so much, because that show, unlike most, dealt with consequences and trauma on a regular basis. To keep this to Star Trek, it has always frustrated me that the conventions of TV at the time prevented them from truly dealing with the traumas that the characters went through. I mean, look at the end of the first season of the original series: first Kirk has to allow the great love of his life to die in order to save history, then in the very next episode he has to listen to his sister-in-law die shortly before finding the dead body of his older brother. That’s the kind of thing that would take months for him to work through, but 1960s TV didn’t do that sort of thing. Hell, they barely had the consequences make it to the end of the episode. This didn’t get much better with the first wave of spinoffs. The example that stands out the most for me is La Forge being brainwashed in “The Mind’s Eye,” which acknowledged the trauma at the very end of the episode, with LeVar Burton plaintively crying to Troi, “But I remember everything!” about his trip to Risa that never happened. But over the course of the character’s remaining appearances on three seasons of TNG, four movies, and one season of Picard, this trauma is never even mentioned. Not to mention things like Kim on Voyager doing the same coming-of-age story over and over and over and over again. The current crop of shows, however, have embraced the notion of consequences and especially of how characters deal with trauma, whether it’s small—Detmer’s difficulties handling the leap forward in time in Discovery’s third season—or large—Picard’s visceral reaction to being back at a Borg Cube in Picard’s first season. TNG had the good sense to put a shrink on the ship, but it wasn’t until Picard’s “Nepenthe” that Troi truly felt like a therapist rather than a plot device. All this is a long way toward saying that “The Life of the Stars” is a superlative example of showing the characters dealing with trauma. There’s a lot that’s impressive about this episode—which finally brings in Mary Wiseman’s Tilly, who was originally promised to be a recurring character, but who is apparently only in this one episode this season—but perhaps the thing that impressed me most was that it used the Thorton Wilder play Our Town, a play I have always despised with every fibre of my being, and in the end I actually liked the use of it. The thing that impressed me the second-most was that it wasn’t just the trauma of the events of “Come, Let’s Away” being dealt with here, as the EMH gets himself a story arc that deals with the Doctor’s own centuries-old trauma. Let’s start with Our Town. Tilly arrives from the original off-Earth Academy campus she was seen transferring to in Discovery’s “All is Possible” in order to help the cadets who went through the Miyazaki mission. The class she offers that our main characters participate in? A theatre class! The cadets all think this is stupid. Darem goes so far as to say that it’s stupid, and Tilly says that the ones who say that are the ones who don’t become captains. Stagecraft is a big part of being an officer in so many ways. The students are asked to suggest plays that can be performed and discussed. Jay-Den suggests a Klingon opera, while SAM—who has, of course, studied every play she can get her photonic hands on—suggests Our Town. Unfortunately, SAM is unable to stick around, because she’s still glitching. The patches applied at the holographic spa she went to in “Ko’Zeine” aren’t taking. (The EMH is a bit peeved that SAM kept this from him until she collapses in class.) The solution is to return to the Kasq homeworld, which Ake, the EMH, and SAM do. The Kasq live in a place where time moves more quickly than it does elsewhere, prompting the EMH to recall a similar planet Voyager encountered in “Blink of an Eye,” including the Doctor living there for three years and having a family. Because the EMH and Ake don’t hardly age, they are the only ones who can go. The EMH continues to resist SAM’s attempts to have him as a mentor, which we saw from the moment they met in “Kids These Days,” and extends here to the EMH refusing to hold SAM’s hand when the Kasq supervisor—again voiced by the great Chiwetel Ejiofor—examines her. This seems unimaginably cruel, but eventually it all comes out when the EMH explains about the events of Voyager’s “Real Life,” when he created a family for himself on the holodeck and had to watch his daughter die. Since then, he has lived for centuries, and everyone he was close to when we saw him in the twenty-fourth century on both Voyager and Prodigy is now long dead. He’s resisted SAM’s overtures because he resists everyone’s overtures. He doesn’t want to go through the trauma of losing someone he loves all over again, as he’s done that plenty of times, and it’s awful, and he is a self-described coward. But then SAM’s problem is diagnosed. The reason why she continues to have cascading failures is that she’s not equipped to deal with trauma. Sentient beings build their ability to suffer through childhood. That’s part of what growing up is: learning how to deal with life. SAM, though, didn’t have a childhood. She was created as a seventeen-year-old, but she didn’t actually have those seventeen years of infancy, childhood, and adolescence. Therefore the EMH recommends that SAM be re-created as an infant, have her grow to seventeen years of age. She’ll still have the memories of the previous iteration of SAM, but that will be integrated with the new SAM that has lived seventeen years, with the EMH as her parent (and Ake presumably as her eccentric aunt, as she’s still around for all of this). Because time passes more quickly on Kasq, the seventeen years is only a few weeks back at the Academy, during which Tilly is trying to get the kids to process their trauma—especially Tarima. Yes, Tarima is back, and she has transferred to the Academy from the War College, having been given an implant that is better, faster, stronger at regulating her empathy-gone-wild. Zoë Steiner does superlative work, as Tarima is so very brittle here, as she may have recovered physically, but the psychological recovery still has a long way to go. When she first arrives, she makes almost no eye contact with anyone, and is holding herself so tightly you fear she’s going to break in half. Tellingly, she doesn’t loosen up until she gets drunk, at which point she summons Caleb—which is the first time she truly acknowledges Caleb, despite his best efforts. She tries to seduce him, but to his credit, Caleb refuses to give in to that while she’s inebriated. She then opens up to Genesis in their shared quarters (shared with SAM, but she’s off on Kasq at this point) about how she doesn’t know who she is anymore. She wanted to go to the War College to learn discipline, but now she’s been forced to focus on the sciences to keep her out of trouble. Genesis reminds her that they’re all doing that: trying to figure out who they’re turning into. Credit: Paramount+ In class, though, Tarima keeps refusing delivery of what Tilly is trying to provide. She’s so stubborn about not wanting to address her issues that even her brother tells her to quit it, as tiptoeing around her has become exhausting. Tilly, of course, doesn’t give up, and continues to do what she’s there to do: educate. I love how first SAM, then Tilly, then all the students—though it takes them a while to get there—use Our Town to help process what they’ve been through. Like I said, I have never liked that particular play (it’s entirely populated with characters about whom I don’t give even the tiniest shit), but I can see why writers Gaia Violo and Jane Maggs used it. The relationship between George and Emily is a bog-obvious comp for Caleb and Tarima, with Tilly going so far as to cast them both in those roles. And the play is inherently about change and the cycle of life. This is a beautifully put together episode, and a complex one that incorporates many different characterizations and elements. I came out of it wanting more, truly, but I think it addressed what it came to address very skillfully. I loved Ake and the EMH talking about the effects of immortality on their ability to love people, I loved Reno and Tilly having their reunion, I loved Ake, Reno, and Tilly sharing a drink and passing the Bechdel Test with flying colors, I loved the sheer joy on everyone’s face when SAM returned to the Academy, I loved how absolutely goddamned brilliantly Robert Picardo played the EMH’s emotional struggles, I loved Ake returning to the Academy after seventeen subjective years and just sitting alone on the bridge. Most of all, I loved seeing how Tilly has matured and thrived in her role as teacher. Watching Tilly’s progress from motor-mouthed bundle of anxious energy cadet in Discovery’s first season to the mature, superlative educator has been an absolute joy. I really hope they use her more in season two.[end-mark] The post Theatre Kids — <i>Star Trek: Starfleet Academy</i>’s “The Life of the Stars” appeared first on Reactor.

Books Martha Wells Book Club Martha Wells Book Club: System Collapse Murderbot faces its biggest challenge yet: its own organic tissue. By Alex Brown | Published on February 26, 2026 Comment 0 Share New Share And we’re back to Murderbot, Barish-Estranza, Perihelion, and the lost colony on a planet contaminated by alien remnants. System Collapse jumps over Fugitive Telemetry to right after Network Effect (we’ve gone back in terms of publication order but forward in terms of chronology). In this book, Murderbot faces its biggest challenge yet: its own organic tissue. “Planets where you have to investigate the probably-not-empty, possibly-alient-contaminated Pre-Corporation Rim occupation site while wearing an environmental suit instead of armor are especially not boring in the bad way, maybe the worst way.” Murderbot hasn’t had good luck on planets, and after the events of Network Effect, I don’t think its dislike of being planetside will change anytime soon. The Perihelion and Preservation Alliance crews are still trying to get the colonists from Network Effect to sign a contract that gives them planetary settlement rights and control over their future before Barish-Estranza activates their corporate takeover plan and turns the colonists into slave labor.  Unluckily for everyone, Barish-Estranza has several SecUnits with them as they “evaluate” the planet. The colonists aren’t united, politically or physically. If anything, they’re more divided now that there are two extraterrestrial invaders than they were when they were alone and bickering amongst themselves. Worse, the main base of colonists may not be the only humans on the planet. Decades ago, a group splintered off. No one knows where they settled or if they’re even alive; they haven’t been heard from them in years. They might be dead or undead and infected with alien remnants, but if they’re alive and healthy they must be included in the charter the University of Mihara and New Tideland team and Pin-Lee are working on. Which brings us back to Murderbot going down to the planet. With humans. And without armor or most of its drones (those it’s leaving with Three as it plays bodyguard for Karime, the pansystem university negotiator trying to convince the colonists to reject B-E). “So I’m here now and it’s fine, everyone shut up about it, okay.” Murderbot, Ratthi, and a few folks from ART’s crew—Tarik, who is Peri’s Gurathin in that he used to work for in the Corporation Rim (as a mercenary) before escaping, and Iris, who is the daughter of Seth and Martyn and also ART’s favorite human—take a ship to the most likely location where the separatists might be…and hope they get there before B-E does. Once they get to the other installation, in typical Murderbot Diaries fashion, things go immediately and spectacularly sideways. Tech left behind by Adamantine when they were dissolved by a corporate takeover makes scanning for life and sending communications to the main base or ART Prime impossible. So, much like how they made a mini duplicate of SecUnit in Network Effect, they make a version of ART and put it into a drone to take with them. Once at the potential occupation site, Murderbot has to confront its fear. “And I realized I really didn’t want to go down there… I had to go down there. It was stupid not to go down there… If I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t do my job.” Its fear is directly correlated with these moments we keep hitting that it is redacting from the story. “I’m a SecUnit who was panicking about getting murdered or whatever by panicking humans.” None of that panic is unfounded, not given what we’ve seen of Murderbot’s story and what we know of their pre-hacked-governor-module life. Before it was forced to do dangerous, terrifying things, but now it has to make the choice each time. That choice is loaded with the weight of caring for humans and itself, activities it’s still learning how to do. Not until much later do we learn what SecUnit is redacting and why that thing happened, and yeah, it should really take Mensah up on that whole trauma therapy thing sooner rather than later. Or ART, who apparently has an advanced trauma protocol ready and waiting.  Stuff goes down in the habitation site between Murderbot’s team, the separatist colonists, and B-E. Where this book zigs where other installments have zagged is in how the solution to their B-E problem is resolved. In the past, SecUnit would’ve tried blasting its way through the problem, and if that didn’t work then it would make a last stand and sacrifice itself to save its clients. It would make that decision partly because that’s what its training told it to do and partly because it genuinely wants to protect people it cares about, even if it can’t admit that it cares. However, this time dying wouldn’t solve anything. In the first book, PresAux worked together to extract Murderbot from the company’s clutches, and in this one Murderbot works together with ART, Tarik, Iris, and Ratthi to do something similar for the colonists. It asks for help, puts its media storage to good use, and trusts the humans enough to contribute and collaborate. Only took 7 books to get there! Speaking of humans, Ratthi has long been one of my favorite humans in this series, and System Collapse is a great example of why. He’s a walking ray of sunshine but he isn’t naive or silly. He gets Murderbot as much as Mensah does. Here he acts almost like its interpreter, able to translate its behavior and subtext for Peri’s humans and to anticipate its needs and wants. He doesn’t claim guardianship over it, he hasn’t hired it, he isn’t working with it because ART is, and he never tells it what to do. He defends its boundaries and ensures it has options even more than Murderbot itself does. He is a peer, a colleague, and, even though Murderbot doesn’t realize it, a friend. One of my favorite moments in this book is when SecUnit hesitates at a hatch opening and Ratthi jokes about “round hatches [being] more frightening than square ones” as a way to diffuse the tension and give it time to work through its concerns. SecUnit then diverts some processing power to running a query of media in its storage to prove that 80% of the time “hazardous fauna, raiders, human and/or bot murderers, and/or magical fauna, unidentified by terrifying dark presences, and straight up monsters [are] associated with round hatches.” In the TV show, Ratthi is briefly in a throuple with Pin-Lee and Arada, but in the books he saves his sexual melodrama for Tarik (the two of them have a fling before Ratthi discovers Tarik and Matteo are together). Every time he appears in the books, my heart grows three sizes. He’s such a fun contrast and complement to SecUnit.  Given the way System Collapse ends, I hope this isn’t the last we see of the Preservation Alliance team or Three. We also now have at least one more rogue SecUnit roaming around (not to mention that rogue ComfortUnit from a few books back). I have no idea how many more of these diaries Martha Wells plans to do, but I will happily take whatever she has to offer. Sadly, we’re almost done with the Murderbot Diaries. The next novella, Platform Decay, won’t be out until May 2026, so it’ll be a while before we get to it. Because I’m just not ready to let go of my beloved sentient killing machine, next month we’re looking at Wells’ three Murderbot universe short stories. You can read “Home: Habitat, Range, Niche, Territory” and “Rapport: Friendship, Solidarity, Communion, Empathy” on Reactor and “Compulsory” on Wired.[end-mark] Buy the Book Platform Decay Martha Wells The Murderbot Diaries (Volume 8) Buy Book Platform Decay Martha Wells The Murderbot Diaries (Volume 8) The Murderbot Diaries (Volume 8) Buy this book from: AmazonBarnes and NobleiBooksIndieBoundTarget The post Martha Wells Book Club: <i>System Collapse</i> appeared first on Reactor.

News The Witches of Cambridge Alice Hoffman’s The Witches of Cambridge Novel Lands Hulu Adaptation Ahead of Release But is it related to her other magical characters? Who knows! By Molly Templeton | Published on February 26, 2026 Image: Photo by Alyssa Peek/Image Cover by @_dr_woo_ Comment 0 Share New Share Image: Photo by Alyssa Peek/Image Cover by @_dr_woo_ Perhaps adaptation magic will strike thrice. Practical Magic, the beloved novel by Alice Hoffman, became a beloved ’90s film starring Nicole Kidman and Sandra Bullock. A sequel, Practical Magic 2, has been in the works for some time, and lands in theaters later this year. And Hoffman isn’t done with witches. Her new novel, The Witches of Cambridge, comes out August 11—and an adaptation is already in the works. Deadline has the news that 26 Keys, the production company of Alien: Earth creator Noah Hawley, is developing the book as a series for Hulu. That doesn’t mean Hawley himself will be hands-on with the series (that would certainly be an odd pairing). No writer, showrunner, or director has been announced for the adaptation—so all we really know about it comes from the book’s synopsis: By the 1950s, Cambridge, Massachusetts feels far removed from the legendary witch trials that marked its early days as a colony. Ava, a bright young woman from a small town in Maine, arrives for her first year at Radcliffe College. There, she meets Lauren, her opposite in every way—the wild and brazen daughter of a wealthy and well-established Cambridge family. But the two have more in common than they think. Both are recruited by the Lilith Society, a secret organization of witches at Radcliffe dating back to colonial times. As they learn more about their legacy, Ava and Lauren form a close bond that is put to the test as they learn to navigate their new power, friendship, and love.While Radcliffe seems like a safe haven, the shadow of McCarthyism looms large, an ever-present threat to the flourishing creative and intellectual life in Cambridge. As girls from the Lilith Society begin to go missing, Ava and Lauren realize the witch trials of the past may not be as deeply buried as they once believed. The publisher describes this book as the start of a brand-new series, but one certainly wonders if these witches have any connection to Hoffman’s more modern-day spellcasters. Practical Magic 2 is in theaters on September 11th. No production schedule has been announced for The Witches of Cambridge.[end-mark] The post Alice Hoffman’s <i>The Witches of Cambridge</i> Novel Lands Hulu Adaptation Ahead of Release appeared first on Reactor.

Column Anime Spotlight Stratagems for Uplifting the Downtrodden With Ya Boy Kongming! A reincarnated military genius turns his talents to peace, music, and helping struggling artists… By Leah Thomas | Published on February 26, 2026 Credit: P.A. Works Comment 0 Share New Share Credit: P.A. Works Let’s start with the obvious: sometimes, life is really hard. People disappoint you. Jobs fire you. Even the mere thought of pursuing a dream can feel impossible. You may, on your darker evenings, consider a world that does not contain yourself, and how little difference that would make. Sonder—the realization that every soul you pass on the street values their own life just as much as you do yours—can sometimes be a profoundly upsetting sorrow. Maybe, if you’re a high school girl visiting Shibuya on a school trip, you stand a little too close to the yellow blocks on the platform. And maybe, you take another step forward as the train approaches— And a stranger takes your hand, and takes you to his seedy nightclub, where your stupor is shattered by the voice of a foreigner belting a dance track into the crowd.  EDM has not saved my life, and aside from those evenings with my sister when I screech Kate Bush and 4 Non Blondes into mics in karaoke rooms, I harbor zero delusions about having a singing career. All the same, what saves Eiko Tsukimi is the same thing that has saved endless other souls, and me, across the history of mankind. It’s not explicitly music, but a raison d’etre of the most relatable kind: Eiko wants to make art.  Unfortunately, we all know that the epiphany that reveals a purpose is only one part of the battle. A successful singing, writing, acting, sculpting, whatever-ing career is far from an easy path to commit to. There are a billion ways to fail, and no surefire way to succeed.  According to Ya Boy Kongming!, succeeding in art may require the assistance of a selfless genius. Isn’t Eiko a lucky duck, then, that one of the greatest military strategists in recorded history decides to be her wingman? Are you ready, Party People, to praise our boy, Kongming? A Fresh Take on Time Travel Credit: P.A. Works Time travel stories can begin in a number of ways. Famously, they are often used to analogize the futility of defying fate. Lovers cannot be brought back to life, Hitler cannot be killed, and if you aren’t careful, your mom might try to kiss you. Maybe you creep on your future wife while she’s still a child, giving all the unsuspecting readers an unwanted ick. Right now, I’m reading a popular novel that suggests that the universe would reject a time traveler in a more literal sense, erasing them first from MRI machines and then existence. While this is an interesting concept, less interesting is the obvious conclusion that a woman of the future would undoubtedly fall for a man from the past by default.  I have always preferred more playful takes on time travel: Dave Beeth-Oven (aka Beethoven) jamming out in a mall music store and Napoleon on a waterslide are far more compelling to me, never mind the fact that these scenarios are downright silly. I’d argue that silliness is one aspect of life that is fundamentally human, something so intrinsic that AI cannot hope to replicate it. Bill and Ted understood that the easiest way to show that Joan of Arc was a tormented teen isn’t to torment her further, but to allow two teen dorks to pull her away from prayer to participate in their high school history report. Idiocracy, initially panned by critics, has earned uneasy cult status as its unsubtle depictions of a “stupid” future have begun to feel somewhat like premonitions.  Ya Boy Kongming! is not opposed to silliness. When Kongming, a renowned statesman and tactician from second-century China, arrives in Shibuya on Halloween, he assumes he is in hell. After all, moments prior, he was on his deathbed on a battlefield, grieving the truth that, despite all his strategems and brilliance, he was unable to gift his beloved emperor, Liu Bei, an end to the war. “I hope to be reborn in peaceful times,” he thinks. Credit: P.A. Works …and then he’s in Shibuya, surrounded by horned devils who compliment his traditional costume and pour liquor down his throat. Kongming, never one to fear a battle, asks his new companions to lead him deeper into hell. Two partygoers take him to the BB Lounge. From the bar, he watches a girl named Eiko step on stage, take a deep breath, and sing her soul out. However silly the premise of this anime may seem, at its heart, it believes in human beings. Kongming, having entered a modern world full of its own foibles, hampered by technology and depression and isolation and indulgence and loneliness, sees in Eiko the same thing he sees in the surrounding, deafening, smoke-ridden nightclub: the potential that exists only during times of peace.  This hell, Kongming thinks, cannot be so bad. The Tactician, Displaced Credit: P.A. Works For some context: Zhuge Liang, aka Kongming, was a strategist who lived in China during the Warring States period. He served Liu Bei, the founding emperor of Shu Han, one of the three kingdoms that fought to control the continent after the Han dynasty collapsed in 220 AD. Like Joan of Arc, Kongming really existed; much of his remarkable life was documented in Chen Shou’s third-century historical text Records of the Three Kingdoms. Kongming’s renown as a shrewd tactician and ethical statesman was cemented in the public psyche after his inclusion in the historical fiction epic Romance of the Three Kingdoms. Written in the 14th century, Romance is a cornerstone of canon literature in East Asia, much as Homer or Shakespeare is in the West. Romance portrays the state of Shu Han as protagonists, exaggerating the exploits of Liu Bei and his devoted advisor.  Kongming was orphaned at a young age and raised by his father’s cousin. He was known to be unusually laid-back despite keeping company with of generals, politicians, and scholars. He lived the life of a peasant until his reputation for cleverness and his understanding of common people led the warlord Liu Bei to his doorstep, seeking advice. Eventually, Kongming, inspired by Liu Bei’s aspirations for peace, agreed to serve him, and the rest is history. But look. You don’t need to know the details or all that happens in the 800,000-word epic novel to appreciate Ya Boy Kongming! Just know that Kongming was an exceptional military strategist and a man of the people, too, and what he longed for most of all was a drama-free life. In the unlikely anime continuation of Kongming’s quest, he finds it in Shibuya two thousand years later. For Kongming, there is no adjustment period. He takes his rebirth in stride and becomes determined to make the most of an unusually peaceful world.  After Eiko discovers him passed out on the street on November 1st, she takes Kongming back to her apartment to sleep off his hangover. He asks her about phones and social media, EDM, and every other thing under the sun, and within hours has figured out how to do his own research. He learns of the death of his beloved Liu Bei and the unfulfilled dreams of Shu Han. All his dreams have become the fodder of fiction, and he is momentarily devastated… but Eiko sings again, this time about loneliness. A tear slides down Kongming’s cheek. If this anime were purely silly, would my eyes dampen just as Liu Bei’s did after the death of his friend Pang Tong?  Like Eiko, Kongming is an artist—but his medium is human potential. He has only ever lacked the opportunity to use his talent for a brighter, more hopeful purpose than deadly conflict. It must have taken a uniquely optimistic, creative mind to devise this series to begin with. Mangaka Yuto Yotsuba had the audacious idea to transplant a legendary man of war to modern-day Tokyo and ask, “What happens when a genius dedicates his wiles not to warfare, but instead to a young woman’s bid for peaceful, global EDM domination?” I’ll tell you exactly what happens: a fantastic story. Eiko, Blossoming Scholar Credit: P.A. Works Eiko, though undeniably talented, is hampered by her own self-doubt. She performs nightly at the club owned by Kobayashi, the gangster who saved her life. Rough as he seems around the edges, with his piercings and yakuza specs, Kobayashi is a loving nerd at heart. He hires Kongming immediately, not because he’s convinced that he really is a time-traveler, but because he’s a huge Three Kingdoms otaku and he wants to fanboy with a kindred soul. Before Eiko meets Kongming, she is considering quitting her pursuit of music. Despite her skills as a songwriter and performer, she has struggled to gain a foothold in the club scene, and she can’t imagine that her voice really makes a difference: “What kind of singer has no fans?” Kongming asks, “Is there not a fan standing right here before you?” The oddball’s support, however unexpected, is enough to push Eiko forward. Soon, he’s using battle stratagems to ensure her stages are crowded at festivals, and the fans of her rivals are funneled to her shows without realizing it. But if this were a show about tricking people into loving a singer, it would not work. Kongming puts people in front of Eiko, but it’s up to her to keep them there. And it turns out that the slightest tweak in circumstances is enough to alter a career trajectory. Kongming doesn’t do the work for Eiko: instead, he creates scenarios that allow people to appreciate the work she’s been doing all along.  This is not about what Kongming can do for you, or what you can do for him. Instead, his true talent is revealing what people can do for themselves. A Peaceful, Beautiful Battle Credit: P.A. Works Later in the series, Kongming recites what must be a proverb: “A scholar you have not seen for three days must be observed closely.” When passionate people are surrounded by supportive friends and true opportunities, change happens very quickly. With Eiko on her way to achieving her dreams, Kongming expands his net of influence by pursuing the talents of a discouraged young rapper, Kabetaijin. Kabe was unpopular in school, an awkward, tongue-tied teen who could never find the words to express himself. When a bullied peer introduced him to the world of battle rap, Kabe finally found his voice. He’s not just a good rapper, but a relentless one, capable of stirring up strong emotions: he cuts right to the heart of his opponents and his audience. His rise is meteoric, and so is his fall: after becoming a triple-titled rap battle champion, Kabe crumples. He’s developed an ulcer due to anxiety, which stems in no small part from imposter syndrome. When he defeats his idol onstage, Kabe does not feel victorious. Rap was an escape that brought him closer to others and allowed him to communicate freely, but it has become what isolates him. The pressure leaves him bordering on hikkikimori-hood, prone to panic attacks and burdened by his own decision to quit music. But then he meets Kongming in a laundromat. “How long will you slumber?” Kongming asks, goading the former champion. Kabe is lured to BB Lounge, where Kongming awaits, armed with a golden microphone, ready for battle. Credit: P.A. Works Again, what could be played as straight comedy—and it is great entertainment—instead sets the stage for a much more evocative exchange. Kabetaijin has not lost his love for rap, nor his talent for it. But what joy can be found in creating art when its intent is to defeat others? Succeeding at his art has also sapped the joy from it.  Boy oh boy, can creatives relate… I could go on about my writing career, long crippling my ability to enjoy a book, but instead, I’ll mention my Auntie Janet, who loved nothing more than painting until art school made her hate it instead.  Kongming is not a better rapper than Kabetaijin, but as he says, he cannot be bested when it comes to a war of words. His goal is not to defeat Kabe, because Kabe is not an enemy. His goal is to uplift him, just as he uplifted Eiko. (And then, of course, to pair the two together and bring the whole enterprise closer to peaceful world party people domination!) After receiving Kongming’s support, Kabe sees a middle schooler being bullied and makes a halfhearted attempt to scare off the aggressors. It works, if only because they find him off-putting. Kabe calls himself pathetic. Days later, he encounters the boy and the bullies again. This time, the boy stands up for himself. He thanks Kabe, telling him how his actions demonstrated how even average-seeming people can prove themselves.  Inspiration vs. Influence Credit: P.A. Works Kongming is the embodiment of YOLO, except for the fact that he is living twice. Because he is a genius, he stops caring about the reasons behind his strange circumstances, focusing instead on how to make the most of his new life, not just for his own sake, but for the sake of the artists around him. There could be no better patron, no cooler wingman. The premise only works because the people Kongming supports grow to be worthy of that support. Ordinary people become extraordinary, granted the chance. As the anime progresses, it’s bittersweet but so necessary that Kongming becomes less and less of a central character. He is someone who inspires agency in others and finds gratification in making positive change.  The best foil to Kongming’s philosophy is introduced in the latter half of the series, when Eiko turns to busking in an attempt to develop her “true” voice. She meets a talented street performer named Nanami, and the pair become fast friends. However, Nanami is actually a member of Azalea, a rising band that has fallen under the command of Karasawa, owner of a predatory record label. Karasawa promises Nanami and her bandmates success, but at the expense of their art. They are forced into skimpy outfits and asked to don masks, to lip-synch their live shows, and adopt pop personas. They are forced to stop playing their own songs.  The trouble is, the abusive tactics are effective, on the surface: Azalea finds success quickly, but the girls are miserable. When the anime culminates in a musical showdown between Eiko, a relative unknown, and the popstars Azalea have been forged into, the real heart of the show shines through every beat. Kongming himself must have advised the show’s writers, given how many pitfalls Ya Boy Kongming! manages to avoid. In a situation when any other series would be happy to defeat a rival and call it good, Eiko has learned to be better. She does not want to destroy anyone on her journey to stardom, least of all a fellow musician and friend. Spoilers? Not here. But in the universe of Ya Boy Kongming!, self-worth is at least as infectious as the earworms Eiko sings. Create Something From Nothing Credit: P.A. Works It is a recurring joke that Kongming never changes his outfit. He is forever clad in the soft green robes depicted in old sketches of him, inevitably holding a feathered fan behind which he can grin or scheme. When an exasperated Eiko asks why he’s always carrying the thing, he responds, “I consider it an extension of my own body.” This is perhaps an unusual point to end on, but I admire the way clothing complements the storytelling throughout Kongming!. Kongming mistakes Eiko as a songstress of hell, thanks to the horns she wears on the night they meet. Later, her windbreaker and baseball cap, mundane clothing items that she wears daily, somehow become her rockstar wardrobe. Eiko hasn’t changed—she is always Eiko, sincere and determined. It’s just that her jacket seems to collect stage presence right alongside her. For Kabetaijin, the grey hoodie that once helped him be invisible becomes a killer reveal waiting to happen. When he whips off that hood, his opponents are in for a real rap whooping. And Azalea, held hostage by their revealing stage costumes, seem luminous when they at last toss their masks to the ground and sing as themselves. At Shibuya Crossing, people do get away with wearing just about anything. There are few places in the world so colorful, so full of tourists and influencers and buskers and street fashionistas. This is, after all, the self-fulfilling prophecy of the busiest intersection in the world: it is busy because of all the visitors who want to witness how busy it is. But more than that, there’s an assumption in Tokyo that if you’re wearing something unconventional, there’s probably some reason for it: a convention, a job at a hostess bar, a night out. Kongming does not need to change to suit his surroundings any more than Eiko does. The world shifts to accommodate him and welcome his eccentricities. What might once have been alienating transforms into the familiar, a person who inspires a sort of unifying fondness throughout the neighborhood. Kongming has long since weaseled his charming way into the lives of all the locals. “That’s our guy, Kongming.” Ya Boy Kongming! makes a compelling case: what if peace is not achieved through success or even great art, but the sense of community art provides? After all, if art is not for the people, or, as Kongming would say, “the populace,” then who the hell is it for?  When Kongming considers his past life, ridden with bloodshed, the first regret he speaks of is the night he refused an invitation to drink with Liu Bei’s soldiers. The next day, those men all died in battle. When Kongming describes a better world, he imagines a time when people, strangers and otherwise, can enjoy endless evenings in each other’s company.  It turns out that sonder, given room to breathe, can become something more like wonder.[end-mark] The post Stratagems for Uplifting the Downtrodden With <i>Ya Boy Kongming!</i> appeared first on Reactor.