HyphenPunk Summer 2022: HyphenPunk Magazine, #4

By Jasen Bacon

Twelve new stories from six different types of -punk science fiction and fantasy, and Punk Poetry from Cockney Rejects.

Cyberpunk from C. M. Fields, Dj Tyrer, Ray Daley, and Jennifer Jeanne McArdle
Clockpunk from Meg Murray
Raypunk from Briar Ripley Page and A'liya Spinner
Dinopunk from Rick Hollon
Solarpunk from Gustovo Bondoni, O. E. Tearmann, and Jess Lewis
Nowpunk from Tim Hildebrandt

• Language: English
• Publisher: HyphenPunk
• Release date: Jun 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201093723

Book preview

Editor’s Note

Year one of HyphenPunk is in the books. This journey has meant a lot to me and I have met some amazing people in the writing and punk communities through this project. I have also learned a lot about what I am looking for in this magazine.

I started this journey looking for great action and adventure with some cool tech, whether that was steam or computer powered. As I have moved forward and learned more about what people are writing, and more about new -punks that are coming up, I have realized that the stories I like to read, and the stories that my writers like to contribute, have an old school punk rock ethos.

DIY is king. Yes, a lot of the stories set in the recent past to distant future have a lot of store bought tech in them, but ultimately it is the people repurposing that tech to serve their own ends. A lot of the retro futuristic stories have people making everything they need for the task at hand. No matter the tech level, the punk ethos of making things your own through personalization and repurposing seems to always shine through.

We are all fighting against the systems. The anti-authoritarian and anti-establishment themes of punk rock still come out in -punk stories. This goes beyond the classic high tech / low life trope of cyberpunk. People are in these positions because of the systems that put them there. We will never be truly free until we are all able to have the same freedoms.

This is the basic philosophy of HyphenPunk moving forward. We want to bring you the best sci-fi that fits this very lose definition of what it means to be a punk, and what it means for a community to be punk. Because, ultimately, punk is a community and a mindset. It is much bigger than the music, safety pins, battle vests, and mosh pits.

That thought brings us into this issue’s fiction. We start off with a clockpunk story by Meg Murray. Born in the Watchmaker’s Garden tells the story of how most people born into an oppressive system never even see the oppression, and they often fear the ones that do.

Next, we have the cyberpunk stories. As She Becomes by C. M. Fields is the type of nightmare that comes from those who have worked in magazines before. Editors have to read all the submissions, but we can quit reading when things go all to hell. Em cannot stop the simulations they are locked in, and some particularly nasty ones cause massive health issues and a desire for revenge against their creator.

The next cyberpunk piece is Electric Luck by DJ Tyrer. This piece presents an all too real life for some youth, if only all the poor kids sold into trafficking had a Cara to try to rescue them.

Ray Daley then gives us a short cyberpunk noir mystery.  Not everything is what it seems when we follow The Agent whose only instructions were to Ask for Slim.

We finish out our cyberpunk offerings with the first part of a series of tales by Jennifer Jeanne McArdle. As we first find ourselves in the world of The Plateau, old lovers are on opposite ends of a cat and mouse chase to find the Silk Shadow.

We move into the Atompunk stories with a returning character. Persephone first appeared in HyphenPunk Issue 2 in the story Pomegranate. Now our beloved robot is moving on from Mars to try to find somewhere she belongs in Persephone, Travelling.

Love on the Cosmic Scale by A’liya Spinner is more of a raypunk story than an atompunk story but saying more than that would be a spoiler for this story of love and found family.

The dinopunk story Across Gondwana’s Heart by Rick Hollon is another story of found family, but this time we start with our main character nursing a heartbreak. Joll is trying to drink himself to death, but old friends try to give him new meaning.

Gustovo Bondoni then makes his third appearance in HyphenPunk with the solarpunk piece A Raft of Questions. This story follows an activist named Charlotte as she gets a job to work PR for a Raft in the middle of the ocean.

Our next solarpunk piece then takes us into a post climate apocalypse desert as a group of geneticists try to bring back extinct plants in Fill the Pot by O. E. Tearmann.

Our final solarpunk offer this issue is an Appalachian story of self-discovery. Told in a wonderful mountain dialect (that rings true to my Appalachian ears), As the Crow Flies by Jess Lewis brings us into yet another post climate apocalypse but shows how the resilience of community and acceptance can get us through it.

The issue’s fiction ends with a bit of nowpunk from Tim Hildebrandt. A social worker takes a deep look at the world around us and how so much of the reality of the poor and unhoused is just Beyond Comprehension.

This issue is also introducing a section I call Punk Poetry. Every issue I will interview a band about their thoughts on punk rock and -punk literature. Our debut PP section is an interview with old school legends Cockney Rejects. For those who don’t know, their song Oi! Oi! Oi! basically started (or at least named) the Oi! Punk genre. They gave me a few minutes while they are touring Europe to chat about punk, movies and their upcoming album.

I hope you all enjoy this issue as much as I have loved putting it together.

ClockPunk

Born in the Watchmaker’s Garden

by Meg Murray

The Maker’s hands were steady as he dripped the radioluminescent mixture into the glass scintillation vial resting inside the fairy’s spine of lacy metal wire. Her amber eyes sparked to life. She blinked her gossamer eyelids and looked up at the large face of the Maker. Lifting arms then legs like a marionette, the fairy became aware of the mechanical body of cast brass and small steel parts that she inhabited. The Maker studied her tenuous movements.

She tilted her head like a curious dog. She flexed the exquisite wings on her back, opening and closing them tenderly. She wished to use the wings to flee the giant creature looming over her.

She doesn’t appear very nimble. A whisper entered her head.

She’s beautiful though.

The fairy searched for the intangible voices in the space around her. She stood on a wooden tabletop in a room with glass windows and metal implements strewn about. She spied four creatures watching her from inside a copper cage suspended from the ceiling.

Hush, said a soft voice from the group, I think she heard you.

Already? It usually takes much longer for a new one to learn how to hear our words.

Very impressive, whispered another.

The fairy heard their words behind her eyes. She looked at the Maker, still watching her closely. Trying to repress a quiver of fear that shook through her, she stared into the giant’s eyes and conjured up words in her mind.

What is I? She sent the message through her stare. She saw no reaction in the Maker’s face, but heard a gasp from the distant cage. Looking back toward the group, she refocused and threw the words in their direction.

What is I?

A storm of excited statements came her way.

Remarkable! How did she —

What is she, indeed!

I dare say —

The overlapping voices confused her.

Be quiet now. Everyone! One voice came through clearly. The question, young one, is said ‘What am I’ — and you, dear, are one of us.

What am I? What am you? She sent back impatiently.

Calm yourself, young one, said the voice of authority. When the Maker has finished his inspection, you’ll join us in the cage and we will teach you.

Without warning, the Maker thrust his finger toward her and pushed her off balance. Her wings opened reflexively. She put out her arms to catch herself as she fell. She stood up again, angry from the shock of his action. The fairy looked around for somewhere to hide, but only found a few tools on the table nearby. The Maker placed his hand, palm facing up, in front of her. It was larger than the whole of her lithe figure.

Climb onto my hand, he instructed her in an audible voice much different from the caged voices she’d silently understood in her mind. It traveled to her in waves of sound; each syllable a displacement of air that she felt press through her delicate body.

She hesitated, but saw no way to escape. She moved her dainty brass legs forward and stepped up onto the fleshy hand. She lost her balance on the uneven surface, but regained it by flapping the open metalwork wings on her back. A fine piece of silk stretched tightly inside the metal lattice plates of each wing’s intricate design.

Don’t you worry. His loud voice declared, before the sun sets, you’ll learn to fly.

The Maker brought her close to his face. He cupped his free hand behind her back. She felt breakable inside his grip. An inexplicable fear of his thick red lips caused her to have a vision of him gleefully gobbling her up inside his giant mouth.

I shall call you Vinnie, he announced. He carried her across the room to the copper cage. He opened the metal door and set her inside.

The mechanical creatures in the cage waited until the Maker locked the door. Then, while he observed through the bars, they linked their hands, forming a long chain of metal limbs. The arms on each end grasped Vinnie’s hands and created a ring of bodies. The yellow glow inside the glass vial core of every creature brightened when they completed the circle.

Can you perceive our words? She heard them in her mind.

Yes, she replied. Warmth flooded through her slight frame. Ecstasy.

Welcome, the lyrical voices continued in unison. You are a fairy, made by the Maker, to serve in the Garden.

They chanted the speech and Vinnie knew the words before they were spoken.

You are our cousin. We are your teachers. We will show you the ways of the Garden. We will teach you to honor the Maker.

Vinnie, mesmerized by the words as they entered her mind, let the ecstasy wash away her fear. She belonged.

---

In the dark hours of night, velvet fabric covered the outside of the fairy cage. Five yellow glowing fairies lay on the hard floor of the cage. Vinnie, exhausted from her first day of life, welcomed the rest for her body and her mind. She’d learned that the Maker kept the fairies in his workshop, a space devoted to his profession as a watchmaker. He manipulated metals — as well as the yellow radioactive substance — in order to build luminescent pocket watches.

The Maker’s other passion was orchids. He’d positioned his workshop, a small room with a wall of windows, next to a large conservatory garden. He could view his treasured plants while he worked through the day.

Vinnie heard shuffling noises. Blinding light appeared as the Maker lifted the heavy velvet curtain from over the copper cage.

Good morning, fairies, he boomed. Time to go to work. He unlocked the cage and one by one, each fairy flew onto the wooden table. Vinnie followed, now a proficient flyer.

Less clumsy today, Vinnie, the Maker praised. You know what to do, Martha. Introduce our newest friend to the duties of the Garden. Martha was the oldest of the fairies. Tam had been created next. Their round bodies were heavy compared to the later fairies. Martha said they’d discovered their ability for communicating to each other unperceived by the Maker.

Martha nodded to the Maker. She waved her arm to direct the fairy group to come with her as she turned and flew from the worktable. Tam shadowed her in almost perfect synchronization.

Vinnie pumped her wings and hopped into the air as she’d been taught by the fairy called Oona. She pushed the air beneath her as she rose up to the ceiling of the workshop. The other fairies flew calmly to the doorway, but Vinnie took the opportunity to experiment with her new flying ability.

She dipped and surged, adjusting her wing speed slower and faster as needed. The variety of motion sent a thrilling tickle through her core.

Leaving the workshop, the five fairies entered the balmy conservatory. They hovered over rows of tables upon which sat dozens of pots filled with orchid stalks. Fragile flowers bloomed in hues of pink and white. Vinnie felt a flurry of energy emanating off of the plants in the Garden.

The orchids are excited to see you, Vinnie, Tam said with a wink.

They get steamed up over a minor change in weather, Fergus said, in his unkind way. Tall and thin, he was the opposite shape of matronly Martha and stocky Tam. Oona flew close to Fergus. As thin as Fergus, but shorter in height, Oona was the only fairy who’d been given adornments on her head — flimsy metal fibers that looked like antennae.

Glass encased the conservatory garden from floor to ceiling. Cast iron frames around each windowpane webbed upward into the sky. Clouds passed overhead. The height of the ceiling in the new room amazed Vinnie. Without thinking, her wings pulsed quicker. She rose to the top of the glass and iron latticework dome. She turned, falling head first toward the conservatory ground. She felt exhilarated by the speed. She lifted the tip of one wing to slow down, but the asymmetrical motion threw her body into a spiral dive. Before she reached the orchid tables, Vinnie opened her wings and saved herself from a crash. Exhausted from the effort, she landed on a flower filled table.

Once she recovered, the terror left her. The thrill of recalling the action satisfied her more than the ecstasy she’d felt when joined with her fellow fairies. She wished to try the daring acrobatics again. The other fairies flew over to her, shaking their heads in anger.

That’s enough of that foolishness! Tam scolded her.

We have tasks to accomplish, Martha reprimanded just as sternly. We aren’t here for sport. We must do as the Maker wishes.

I’m sorry, Vinnie said, while feeling not at all sorry for the freedom she’d briefly enjoyed.

Pay attention to our lessons, now, Vinnie. We’ll begin with the curtain.

The sun cast a sharp angled ray through the glass building. Vinnie watched as the four older fairies worked together to carry a length of sheer fabric. They set the lightweight material onto hooks attached to the iron frames of the glass walls.

We can’t let too much light shine in from the Outside, explained Martha.

Or not enough, said Tam, from behind the gauzy curtain.

We must carefully watch the leaves for any changes in color. Martha continued the lesson. Too pale, and the plant’s getting too much sun. A nice medium green with a touch of yellow is ideal.

We also don’t want to see the leaves turning dark green, Tam said. If they do, it could mean that the plants aren’t receiving enough light and won’t bloom.

When can we go to the Outside? Vinnie