I love night markets, and I love magical market stories. So of course I wanted one day to write one myself! I was also thinking about parenthood, about the baggage that we bring to it, about learning to be open and present even when that’s really hard. About vulnerability and defensiveness in general. And about the inevitable calluses that we acquire through life, the armor that we don to survive.

I did a lot of digging into the idea of “closure” and how looking for closure can become detrimental. It doesn’t matter how smart or well-adjusted you are. Like a dog chasing a bird, you can chase closure right over the edge of a cliff. The narrator of “The Last Lucid Day” is someone who has done the homework: He’s likely been in years of therapy; he knows the language of complex trauma, parental neglect, attachment styles, and so on.

Sometimes when I am not doing anything serious I allow different thoughts to run freely in my head. One of those many thoughts was wondering how cool it would be for humans to be able to see into the future.

I play tabletop role playing games, though that leads to a lot more writing, hah! I currently run two concurrent campaigns—one Blades in the Dark, and one VtM, on alternate weekends, and guide my players through a play-by-post campaign set alongside the main campaign during the week.

The mechas in this story were extremely inspired by Neon Genesis Evangelion, an anime which has also driven a lot of my past writing. The mechas in Evangelion (spoiler) must be implanted with a core containing the soul of the pilot’s mother in order to function properly.

This was the story I wrote … while quarantining after traveling back to my hometown in Kerala, India. I remember that I was trying to challenge myself to write a chaotic, peopled world full of sensations that were in direct opposition to the sterile confines of my room.

I wrote the first draft of this story in late 2022, a few months after the United States Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, effectively removing the nationwide right to abortion. Around that time, my first kid had just turned one, and I was feeling retrospective about that first insane year of parenthood. I was also starting to debate whether I wanted to have a second kid and go through the nightmare that is pregnancy again, especially in the aforementioned political reality.

“Over a Long Time Ago” is part of a series of short stories centered on an interstellar penal colony called Amends. In the series chronology it’s the second story, though I wrote it next to last. The story’s title is a line from a great Steely Dan song, “Pretzel Logic,” this wonky blues ballad about time travel. There’s this sad feeling of inevitability to the song that I hope to evoke in readers, which is a totally appropriate emotional tone.

I’ve worked some bad jobs before. I figure we all have. So it came from that, to a degree.

My academic background is in psychology, and when I was trying to get this story to come together I started reading a bunch of articles on attention, working memory, language acquisition, and more generally how we learn new skills and information. As I was researching, I got it in my head that what I really wanted was to somehow train people to do something that, cognitively, we simply do not do.