Jessica McHugh Interview

by
Daulton Dickey.

If you haven’t encountered Jessica McHugh online, then you’re missing out on a singular personality. Witty and offensive—to some—and brutally honest, she chronicles her daily life and her life as a writer constantly in search of inspirado.

She’s more than a horror writer: she’s written science fiction and YA series. A prolific short story writer, she spends her days and nights toiling away. Sometimes she writes at home, sometimes she writes in bars, she’s always producing something well worth reading. 

Can you remember the first time a book gripped you?

One of my favorite books since I was ten or so, “The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle” by Avi. It’s a historical fiction novel about thirteen-year-old Charlotte Doyle voyaging from England to America in the early 1800s. There are storms, mutinies, and some pretty harrowing incidents that require Charlotte to abandon her upper-class sensibilities and woman-up big time. I’d never read anything quite like it at the time. Continue reading

An Origin of Species

by Daulton Dickey.

 

KA-88 sat on a rock in a desert and glanced at the sky. Hydrated oxide in the atmosphere drenched the dome in sepia hues. Two hundred miles to the east, a cargo freighter sliced through the sepia and penetrated the skin of the planet. KA-88 knew what it contained—microbe guano, three humans, nineteen transhumans; she knew its destination: Ronocae; and she knew its speed: eighty-eight times the speed of sound.

She knew everything.

If a human part of her remained—the emotional, irrational product of those meat machines—she wondered if she’d lament knowing everything. Confusion had its perks. It seemed logical to balk every now and then, to feel uncertain and even frightened. When such experiences coalesced, she conjectured, then they gave rise to mystery, excitement, luminousness.

Correct?

Without so much as vestiges of emotions, she didn’t know. She couldn’t know.

Interesting.

She stood and circled a rock and contemplated her paradox: without emotions, she, an eighty-eight year old transhuman, an organic machine supplemented with silicone neurons and hardware, couldn’t know everything; if she couldn’t know everything, then she didn’t know everything. So how could a transhuman who knew everything not know everything—a clear violation of the law of non-contradiction. Continue reading