Apex Books- African Steampunk Lit

image: Tor booksPeace All *_^It pays to keep doing research.We're out there doing our thing for real. It'll be great when the community at large knows to come to BSFS to share their works and connect with likeminds. Until then, we'll keep happening upon the gems of our sisters and brothers who may or may not be promoting their work.This brother, Maurice Broaddus shared African Steampunk for Apex Books in the summer that alot of folks have been commenting on in the blogsphere. The story's a rather well-written tongue in cheek satirical look at Afrikan steampunk.I included a little teaser but click the 'read more' link at the bottom of the excerpt for the full story. There is some off-color language in the story. It's definitely not for the kids.I hope we can find more POC steampunk from the Motherland Diaspora, Asian, MiddleEastern cultures and etc sooner than later as well. Will post when I find more. There's probably alot out there that we can catalogue for historical value, and help promote.
“Who Stole the Soul?”
“Citizens of the Universe, do not attempt to adjust your electro-transmitter, there is nothing wrong. We have taken control to bring you this special bulletin.”“Aw, hell nah.” Hubert “Sleepy” Nixon paused mid-keystroke on the pianoforte. A system of pipes ran from the back of the instrument to the ceiling, steam billowing in mild tufts from the joints. The low, arrhythmic notes slowly faded into a dull echo as he turned to the gleaming carapace of the electro-transmitter with a countenance of mild exasperation.A phlegmatic gentleman by nature, some mistook Sleepy’s somnambulant demeanor for muddle-mindedness. Given nuanced consideration, this was rather true after a fashion. Sleepy reached for his pipe, tamped the side to even the spread of chiba leaves, lit them and inhaled. Holding the smoke in his lungs for the span of three heartbeats, he exhaled a thick cloud of noxious vapor. Only then was he prepared to amble his considerable girth toward the faded tapestry that concealed the descending spiral stairway. Wide-shouldered and bulbous framed as he was, each step creaked under his weight as he slowly made his way into the subterranean hollow. The basement smelled of a privy pit.“That’s right, today’s mathematics is knowledge. Let me break it down for you: know the ledge.” A glass-fronted cabinet contained a rotating cylinder that gyrated up and down. A series of antennae lined the top of the device, electricity arcing between them, the charges climbing the spires like tendrils of ivy. Pipes splayed like pleats of a fan, groaned and gurgled as the home kine burned. In the undercity, Fortune—as much as the government allowed—favored a neighborhood possessing a single kine or two, much less a home laying claim to its own. The voice emanated from the darkened corner of the chamber and belonged to the spindly-framed gentleman behind the strange apparatus. Barely seated on the many-times-patched ottoman, was (120 Degrees of) Knowledge Allah.

(published as the lead story in Apex Magazine August '09)
Read more

Steampunk in other pubs:Afrikan Steampunk in Purple MagSPMRelated Articles:James Ng- Asian Steampunk Q&A w/ Tor. booksPost your Steam Fashion, Art, and Slice of Steam Life images
Group POC Steampunk lit: Did you check the engine room?

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