The ways that various cultures define civilization and humanity have always interested me. What if, for these people, the definition of civilization was people who could commit terrible atrocities? What if they believed that goading a people into destroying itself was actually helping them become more civilized? Looking out at the history of colonialism here in the U.S., that definition isn’t that far from the mindset of many European colonizers. 



I wanted this story to have a very accessible point of view character—someone we could recognize and empathize with whether they were male, female, or other. Choosing the right narrator—and right distance from that narrator, whether it’s first person, third person, close third person, or omniscient—changes the overall emotional effect of the story, so I think that’s key.

True fact: when I first read Orwell’s 1984 (back when I was a tiny!Merc and didn’t quite get a lot of the political commentary), I was miffed that things like the Ministry of Truth and the Ministry of Love were not literal. Tiny!Merc was outraged that these names were, in fact, hiding something quite different. When I grew older and eventually got the irony, it really became all that much scarier. Naming something that has connotations of positive concepts when the thing is really fucking terrifying is a mind game all its own.