Since I was quite young, I have had this sense that the fourth-dimensional universe we inhabit is a kind of conjuror’s trick, especially the part about sequential time. If we could see reality as it is, rather than how we’re merely wired to experience it, we’d say, “Oh, well, of course.” Back when I used to take LSD, that sense was reinforced, because I got to see mundane objects in all their actual splendor. The feeling has stuck with me for almost fifty years now.

It’s so odd to sit here, remembering my half-self writing characters like Kris and Max, who seemed impossibly ancient then but now feel like contemporaries. It’s more depressing to see how many of the themes of this story are still current: the consequences of environmental degradation and war, patriarchy and the violent means it pursues to retain power, the costs of survival . . . I guess it’s the last that has stuck with me down the years, from the older Hogarth’s perspective.

I believe that speculative fiction is not only about ideas or about technology, but is how society and people interact with ideas and with technology. Advancements in science change us, movements in society change and transform existing structures, conflict arises from these changes; how do we deal with these things? Do we become tougher? Do we become harder? How do we continue to hold fast to human connections in a world that dehumanizes so many of us?

My best friend lives in the Pacific Northwest, and all logical projections of sea level increase and weather pattern changes highlight it as one of the areas where things will remain very much the same — which is why they’re likely to get flooded by those of us not lucky enough to already live there. I much prefer Northern California, but we’re already toast.

“A face like an imperfectly shaven tennis ball”: Many years ago a friend of mine sent me a link to something called “The Surrealist Compliment Generator” and that was one of the compliments. It stuck with me and eventually, somehow, in that sideways way the brain works, it managed to turn itself into a story about a girl whose body disassembled itself once a month.