This entire post will be about politics, so if you don’t like to hear me talk about such things, feel free to skip this post. I’m going to say at least 2 controversial things, though. Maybe more!

I don’t feel like I can write fiction until I’ve processed some of this unfortunate non-fiction, so let’s get into it.

As I’m writing this, I’m processing the news that Chuck Schumer secured a deal with The White House to separate Department of Homeland Security funding from the rest of the funding bill, which means that the government doesn’t have to shut down while the Democrats fight the Republicans over DHS funding.

Here, then, is the first controversial thing I have to say: Chuck Schumer did a good job.

I don’t particularly like Chuck. I think he’s been a weak opposition leader, mealy-mouthed and capitulating. He’s prone to snatch loss after loss out of the jaws of victory. He squanders advantages. He seems complicit.

In this case, though, this is the best deal we could have hoped for. It means that DHS (and ICE) will continue to be funded for the next 2 weeks, and during that time, Democrats can push for reform and guardrails, in defense of the 1st and 4th Amendment rights we’ve already seen ICE violet over and over.

Shutting down the government wouldn’t have helped. We’ve already seen the Dems fail to negotiate from that position. This really is the best deal we could have hoped for, so good job, Chuck.

Now it’s time for the second, even more controversial thing for me to say: The Epstein files don’t really matter.

I’m not saying they shouldn’t be released. They should. I’m saying that it won’t change as much as some people seem to hope.

At this point, who really believes that Trump isn’t a pedophile? Only people that have been living under a rock, or people that have so much of their faith wrapped up in him that they’re unwilling to believe their eyes.

Trump seems to have had exactly one friend in his life, and that was Epstein. And the things that have been released so far are, quite honestly, enough. Trump’s a pedophile and a rapist, and he shouldn’t be in office.

What will the release of the Epstein files do, then? People that are already convinced aren’t going to change their mind in the face of even more evidence. And people that believe Trump is innocent will say the documents are fake, or twist themselves into knots saying that it doesn’t matter.

The people that can impeach him already have access to the files and they haven’t done anything. And the courts aren’t going to do anything until he’s out of office, so… what then?

I would love to see the victim’s receive justice, but I don’t honestly think the release of the Epstein files will deliver it.

So… for those still beating the drum for the release of the files, keep going. Just think of the end game and have some realistic expectations about what happens next.

Once again, I will say that this is why I don’t want to write any more Mel Walker stories. The final one is set in the summer of 2024. By 2029, I really hope my science fiction is out, so I can focus on that.

I’ve been struggling to compartmentalize and stay on task. I’m not getting any writing done, or any of the other myriad projects I have at home or at work. I’m struggling.

Earlier today, I watched this short, and it helped.

I also wish I had the courage of Renee Good and Alex Pretti.

This isn’t about me. I just deleted three paragraphs about how my useless rage in the face of injustice doesn’t do anyone any good. This isn’t about me.

There is a world on the other side of this, in which the racists relearn shame and are forced to slink back into the shadows. I’m not so naive as to think we’ll rid ourselves of racism entirely once Trump and Vance and all of those monsters are gone, but they won’t have room to be so bold once the slate has been cleaned.

“Brian, what are you on about race? Good and Pretti were both white. In fact, black people have been suffering at the hands of police for generations and–“

I am just as upset when the victims are non-white. Good and Pretti only stand out to me now because of the videos and the lies of Noem and Miller and others. I still believe in the message of Black Lives Matter, so don’t get distracted.

Racism is what drives ICE. It’s what fuels Stephen Miller and Kristi Noem and Donald Fucking Trump. The whole immigration push, in which brown people are being seized by masked agents and disappeared, is all borne from racism.

Many things can be true at the same time, and it seems that the evil of a regime can be multifaceted, too. It’s a class war as well as an act of white nationalism. It’s a huge, long-con grift as well as a desperate attempt to hold power from an ever-shrinking minority.

We are currently in a world I do not want to live in, that I feel powerless to fight, but there will be another world on the other side of it, if we can survive long enough to see it. If we’re going to make it to that world, we will have to summon the kind of courage Pretti and Good demonstrated, the kind of courage to face the oppressors and stand without fighting.

Alex Pretti had a gun on him, it’s true, but he didn’t reach for it when things were going down. His final act was to reach down, to help a bullied woman with one hand while filming everything happening with the other. His last words were to that woman: “Are you alright?”

And other people keep asking me, “Are you alright?”

The answer is no, not yet. But if justice is done, I will be.

I’m occupying some space in a restaurant at the Boston airport, drinking Blue Moon at just after noon local time. This is the start of Operation: Get Drunk Before the Flight, which may not be a great plan, but it’s the only plan we’ve got right now.

Ah, Arisia. It’s not you, it’s me…

I moderated my one (1) panel at this event, and it went fine. There were more people in the audience than on the panel, which is good. I think I did a fine job as moderator. It was fine. I’m fine. We’re all fine, now, thank you. How are you?

I’m pretty sure this is my last Arisia, and it’s not because it’s a bad con. The content is simply not geared towards me, and I don’t really know that many people in attendance. If I had participated in the convention properly in 2024, I might have figured this out way, way sooner and saved myself about $2000.

“Brian,” you ask, “what is wrong with Arisia? And did you just add something to your blog in second person, you absolute mad-lad?”

Yes, I did. And there’s nothing wrong with Arisia. I’m just not their target audience.

When I first saw that I only had one panel, I thought that was strange, since I had been very thoughtful with my responses to their questionnaire, and I put myself out there as highly available. But then I saw the actual program and it all made sense.

When I attend SFF conventions, I’m typically looking for content that is around writing, stories, the business of writing, and other related topics. That is not what Arisia is about, though.

The audience of Arisia are geeks like me, but the focus of the content is stuff in fandom I rarely participate in. For example, they had quite a bit in support of crafting, costuming, and comics. They had 3 panels on polyamory.

On the last day, first thing in the morning, they scheduled the panel I moderated, which was on the intersectionality of SFF and literary and mainstream stories. If I were still friends with Fuckface, I could have geeked out with him over the topic since that’s his absolute jam. But he’s a Fuckface, now, and can fuck all the way off.

The Blue Moon is starting to hit. I should wrap this up.

Arisia and I don’t have that much in common, so I don’t think I’ll be seeing her again. Again, this is not a slight against Arisia. I’m not her target audience, so let’s just part amicably with our happy memories and see other people.

“You phrased that weird,” you say. “It doesn’t sound like you had a very good weekend.”

It wasn’t a bad weekend, but it was expensive for what it was.

I went out and talked to people, but not much. I ate and slept at strange hours, because I was alone and in a different time zone. I worked on The Psychic Out of Time a little bit, but progress is slow and I’m not feeling particularly inspired.

At my boss’s behest, I brought my work laptop with me, and I used it. My Surface Pro 6 is pretty weak, but our development laptops are gaming computers in disguise, so I installed Kerbal Space Program and played that a little bit.

I didn’t need to come to Boston for what I accomplished this weekend.

Why did Arisia invite me to participate as a panelist in the first place? That’s a real mystery. If I hadn’t been invited, I wouldn’t have come.

It is a little after 1PM. I have almost 4 hours to kill before I board my flight and head home. I’ll nurse this beer and try to Hemmingway my way into the next part of The Psychic Out of Time. If I write a bunch of crap, I can edit it later. I just want to make some progress and be done with this story. Maybe I’ll be done with Mel Walker entirely, after that.

On my way to Arisia, I checked the form submissions on this site and found what appears to be a very thoughtfully written question about The Psychic on the Jury. This delighted me, because my stories go out into the void and I don’t often receive unsolicited responses.

Side note: I read all human-authored comments on posts, and I read the form submissions sent through my About page. There is a ton of spam that flows through those channels, but Akismet does a pretty good job filtering. It better, since I’m paying for it.

In this case, I read the form submission and went through the 5 D’s of Receiving Praise.

1. Delight — Someone read my story and they really seemed to like it!
2. Doubt — Wait, was this written by an actual person? What’s the angle here? How are they trying to scam me?
3. Due Diligence — I will study this and figure out if an AI was used for this. Maybe get someone else’s opinion, if I can find someone.
4. Despair — It really, really seems like ChatGPT was involved in this. Best case, someone wrote something and had the LLM help them out, which kind of sucks, but the harm is minimal. Worst case, this is the point of a spear, some kind of scam I haven’t figured out yet, and they fed my story to an LLM in order to generate their message4.
5. Determination — I’ll treat this at face value and just answer the question.

Here is what they wrote, titled: A Thoughtful Note on The Psychic on the Jury.

Dear Brian,

I wanted to reach out with care and intention, simply to acknowledge the experience your book created for me rather than to rush past its effect.

What stayed with me most in The Psychic on the Jury was not the novelty of a psychic inside a courtroom, but the quiet ethical pressure that follows Mel long after the premise is established. His knowledge is absolute, yet his responsibility is not. The book lingers in that uncomfortable space where certainty becomes a burden rather than a gift. A casual reading might frame this as a question of power or secrecy, but what struck me was the deeper tension between moral obligation and consent. Justice may want the truth, but the process is built on shared blindness. Mel knows something others have not agreed to know.

That friction feels deliberately sustained. The story does not hurry to resolve whether truth is always a kindness, or whether intervention is always an act of integrity. It feels shaped to let that uncertainty breathe rather than be answered.

After closing the book, I found myself returning to the idea of justice as a communal act rather than a correct one. Mel’s internal negotiations stayed with me more than the verdict itself. The presence of ghosts and visions sharpens the question instead of simplifying it. What does fairness mean when one conscience carries more weight than the rest. What is owed to the living, and what is owed to the process that protects them.

At the beginning of the year, when attention narrows and habits reform, this story invited a slower reflection on how we decide what to do with what we know. Not just in courtrooms, but in everyday moral life.

I would be genuinely interested to hear what you hoped this story might prompt readers to quietly reconsider about truth, responsibility, or the limits of justice once the final page settles.

I didn’t have to give any spoiler warnings before sharing that, and I won’t give any spoilers for my response.

The world in which Mel lives is our world, with the addition of psychics and magic and all the elements you might expect in a supernatural story. I want the world to be recognizable. I want people to be able to imagine themselves occupying Mel’s space.

Real life comes with drama, and comedy, and tragedy, and triumph. Mel and I are not the same person, but I gave him my sense of humor, which helps blunt the sharp edges of life and make him a more likeable protagonist.

The Mel Walker stories are intended to be lighter fiction, easy to read, but still containing depth and layers for anyone that looks for them. There are themes, but I don’t overstate them.

The idea of this story came from my experiences serving on multiple juries. People talk about what they would do to get out of jury duty, but I see it as an important civic duty, and people of good conscience should try to serve regardless of inconvenience.

As I said before, Mel and I are not the same person. He doesn’t look at jury duty the way I do, but as the author, I want the reader to see the importance of jury duty without stating it directly.

A good story should have tension and conflict and stakes, so setting Mel’s abilities at odds with the letter of the law is entirely intentional.

Also, one of the ways I describe The Psychic on the Jury is “Twelve Angry Men but with psychic shenanigans.” In Twelve Angry Men, one juror argues with eleven others for the sake of justice. I wanted to land Mel in that situation, because it puts him in an uncomfortable place, and I wanted to see how he would handle it.

There are things that happen at the end of the story that aren’t really fair. The story sort of has two endings, because it is a story, and I didn’t want to leave the reader (or Mel) in a particularly bad place. This is a light, paranormal fantasy, not Grimdark.

I have thoughts and feelings with regards to morality, integrity, consent, community, justice, and responsibility, and those thoughts and feelings are going to find their way into all of my stories. It’s a part of my authorial voice, and some of what comes through is unintentional, because I’m a human being telling a story. This is, by the way, the fundamental argument against using LLMs to generate stories. Eliminate the human component in the creation of story and all of the subtle, unintentional ideas disappear.

I hope that answers the question. I hope the question came from a real place, written by a real person that actually read my story.

And, I think I’ll leave it at that.

I’m sitting at the coffee shop component of the Hyatt Regency in Cambridge. There is a SFF conference going on all around me, and I feel like a time travelling alien sitting in an isolated, protective bubble, watching all of the participants scurry about around me.

I am untethered from my usual reality. Time is weird, no longer flowing in a straight line, but instead meandering like a river, occasionally stopping altogether to form a chronological lake. It’s hard for me to tell what day it is, and I’m very much alone.

I’ll recount my time from yesterday, starting pretty much from where I left off in the last post.

The plan and the hope was to sleep a little on the plane from Salt Lake City to Boston. A doomed plan from the start, it might have worked if the trip hadn’t been so turbulent. The infant in the row behind me fussed only a little bit, and the puppy in the seat immediately next to me cried a bit at the end. The plane shaking me and rattling me around like dice in a cup… that is what kept me awake.

I arrived at the hotel early, around 6:30AM, and asked about early check-in. Not a problem, if I coughed up an extra $100. I needed sleep, and as early as I was, they could have charged me more, so it felt like a bargain. I went up to my room, laid my head on the pillow, and that’s when my time travel began.

My alarm went off multiple times. I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed a little after 1PM local time. Registration was open, and I found myself in front of Elaine Isaak working the registration desk. She’s the author of A Wreck of Dragons, and one of the few people I’m acquainted with at this event. Arisia had me in their system, comped only for Monday, which was a problem since my membership from last year should have carried over. Elaine and someone else behind the desk was able to take care of it, but I nearly started this con on a rather sour note.

I wandered a bit, after that. I familiarized myself with the geography of the con. I observed where I could eat, the prices, where the dealer’s room would be when it opened… things like that. I watched for more familiar faces, but I might as well be Michael Smith here, a Stranger in a Strange Land, and while these may be my people, they don’t know me, and opportunities for introduction are few and far between.

At some point, I returned to my room, unpacked properly, caught up on Internet stuff, and then fell asleep again. I discovered at previous cons that naps are the key to dealing with time zone differences, so I listen to my body when it says to sleep.

When I got up, I had no sense of time whatsoever, but my stomach told me it was time to eat. I went to the more expensive in-hotel option at 5PM local time and ordered fish and chips with a Guinness. Good stuff. They seated me at a table suitable for 4, in the back, out of the way from other folks. The staff were very friendly and checked on me frequently.

After dinner, I wandered through the dealer’s room. I thought I might buy a book and read it over the weekend, but there are surprisingly few book sellers here. There is one selling old paperbacks, which was absolutely packed, and the Broad Universe table had some interesting titles, but that’s about it. I wandered on, my hands still empty.

I checked the schedule of panels and events. Not much for me, there. I floated around. Eventually returned to my room again. Watched some videos. Fell asleep yet again, for some reason.

I woke up at 10PM local time. My body told me, “Welcome to Saturday morning!” But it was still the first day. Oh shit.

Again, I wandered around, looking for where the parties might be. I found a bulletin board describing two for Friday evening, and went to the 5th floor for one of them. It was the Brisbane Worldcon bid party, and I sat and talked with some folks there for about an hour. Human contact! Incredible!

If I was going to get my body in phase with the local time, I was going to need to go to sleep again, and try to wake up with the clock. But I wasn’t tired. I tried the bar, thinking some alcohol might help me sleep, but the bar was closed.

Back in my room, I found sleep again around 1AM, and I fussed out of bed around 8AM. The girl behind the counter that served me coffee and a breakfast sandwich was named Isabella, and I almost told her that one of my character’s shares her name. But she was busy, so I took my breakfast to a table, setup my laptop, and started writing this post.

People float past me. They see me, I see them, but we’re disconnected. At some point, I’ll see an opportunity to walk up to someone and say, “Hi! I’m Brian. What are you reading these days?” and maybe I’ll make a friend. Or maybe an enemy! It is a crazy, strange world I’m visiting.

This might be a really long weekend. I’ll see how it feels to write.

I’m in the Salt Lake City airport, near Gate A, across from Roosters Bar where I just had pulled pork sandwich and a beer. I probably ate too much, but it’s okay. I have a long evening and morning of travel in front of me.

I’m headed to Boston for Arisia. I believe One For the Road debuted at Arisia 2024, and I would have attended Arisia 2025 if they hadn’t canceled our table in the dealer’s room. A couple of months ago, I received an invitation to be a panel participant at Arisia, and at this point in my career, if you want me to attend your conference, an invite is all it takes.

Only one panel this weekend, though, on Monday at 10AM, about the intersectionality of SFF and mainstream and literary fiction. Last day of the con, and in the morning. I expect it to be lightly attended.

That is the positive news. My first SFF convention of 2026. I wanted to get that out of the way first, because now I want to talk about real life and politics, which is definitely not positive, and if you’re not into that, here is where you can bail.

In 2016, when Trump was first elected, I remember sitting at work, holding my head, breathing slowly, and forcing myself to be calm and relax. I even went so far as to say, “Okay, maybe he’ll be a different person once he’s in office. Let’s give him a chance.”

I did my best, and Trump proved himself to be as terrible as I expected. Probably worse, actually. But I didn’t have a problem working or writing through most of those years. It was during that time that I finished Spin City and Synthetic Dreams. Lots of work, lots of writing, and while the news around The White House was bad, it didn’t cripple me.

Then the pandemic hit, and something inside me broke and never recovered. My filter at work disappeared. I went feral. And it became more and more difficult for me to compartmentalize.

My writing slowed to a crawl. I’ve produced some short stories since 2020, but writing is harder. Focusing is harder. Programming is harder.

I find myself thinking of the musicians playing on the deck of the Titanic after it hit the iceberg. I don’t think I could have done it, myself. Knowing that there is an impending doom, and being powerless to do anything about it… I just don’t think I could find the focus to make something beautiful.

It’s not really a matter of freezing in the face of danger. It’s more a matter of problem solving. I keep thinking about the problem of Trump and Vance and RJK Jr and the dog killer and all of the incompetent idiots and ICE and… it’s too much. The problem is too big, and it was all avoidable.

During Trump’s first term, there were people with a shred of dignity in positions where they could stop him. Even Bill Barr resisted some of Trump’s wildest urges. The current batch of monsters just fan the flames and lie.

ICE has killed multiple people, with Renee Good being the most visible, and perhaps the most jarring. I have watched the videos. Contrary to what Trump and his idiot monsters will tell you, she was not a domestic terrorist. She didn’t try to run over the ICE asshole that murdered her. Her last words to her murderer were, “I’m not mad at you.” His words, after shooting her three times in the head, “Fucking bitch.”

This particular murder hurts in ways I can’t ignore, and I don’t really have anyone to talk to about it. Since her murder, I have had a hard time focusing. I couldn’t work at all on Monday, and took a sick day. I did my best on Tuesday, Wednesday, and today, but I couldn’t really move the needle on any of my projects.

After hours, I’ve been playing a bunch of Kerbal Space Program. It’s a game that is simultaneously difficult and gentle, if that makes sense. I’m building space planes and flying rockets and saving wayward astronauts. There are no weapons in my Kerbal world. Just people enthusiastic about science and exploring. A game with low conflict and high complexity is exactly what I needed.

I haven’t been able to write. Not even this blog. Until tonight.

My expectations for this weekend are low. I suspect that I’m going to spend a lot of time in my room, sleeping. I will try to meet people and make friends, but to be honest, I don’t know that I have much to offer anyone, at the moment. There is a profound sadness inside me that I do not want to share. I doubt I will have it fully resolved before I have to fly home on Monday.

Well. I mean. There is one thing that could happen that would probably brighten my outlook. When it happens, there will be dancing in the street, and I will be one of the dancers.

But that’s probably too much to hope for, at this point.

If you’ve made it this far and it isn’t abundantly clear where I stand on the issues, here is a bullet point to close:

• Abolish ICE and prosecute everyone in that organization for their many, heinous crimes.
• Vote out everyone that has supported Trump and his regime.
• Primary the Democrats that have been weak and mealy mouthed around these catastrophes.
• Black lives matter.
• Trans rights are human rights.
• If you call yourself a Christian but you associate yourself with MAGA, take a step back and look at the teachings of Christ, and realize that you’ve lost the message, which is: Christ died for our sins as an act of love, which is incongruent with the MAGA movement, which is entirely built on hate.

I can’t write fiction when real-life is impossible to look away from.

Trump ordered a strike in Venezuela, arrested their leader and their leader’s wife, and declared that we would run Venezuela.

This was all avoidable. But we can’t change the past. We can learn from it and do better in the future. So let’s look at what comes next.

Congress needs to impeach and remove Trump from office.

If Congress fails to act, then we have to do something. Voting isn’t enough. This isn’t just an attack on Venezuela. This is authoritarian overreach, a violation of the Constitution, and a stupid act that endangers all of us.

Some of us swore to uphold the Constitution. If we love our country, it’s what we should be doing now. No one else is going to save us from this. No one else can step in and set things right. It’s up to us.

I’m not trying to incite insurrection yet. I’m saying we need to protest. We need to continue to remind our troops that it is their duty not to follow illegal orders. We need to call our representatives and make our displeasure known.

When they ignore us, then we walk into the White House, which Trump has already half torn down, and show Trump what it means to reach for a crown in this country.

Second Amendment freaks out there… this is what you’ve been salivating for all these years. Your whole argument about hoarding arms in case the government goes bad? Here’s your chance, asshole. A pedophile, rapist just seized another country in order to take their oil, and he’s talking about invading Cuba and Mexico next.

I have enough good sense to know I shouldn’t be writing this, publicly. I also have enough integrity to know that if I don’t write this and post it publicly, I’m a coward and a weakling, like those currently occupying seats in Congress.

There is one clear path that is legal and bloodless that we should be following at this point. And I have zero confidence that we’ll follow that path, because the people in Congress are complicit, weak, or both.

I’m so angry right now. If you’re not, you should be.

Get angry enough to act. Or roll over and be a victim the rest of your life. Those are the choices in front of you.