THE WORLD WASN'T READY FOR YOU

Short stories using the tropes of horror and science fiction with intelligence, compassion, and wry abandon to analyze and analogize racial misunderstanding.

One of many distinctive new Black American voices in the fantasy genre, Key shows throughout these eight stories the range and ingenuity of such grandmasters as Ray Bradbury, Robert Sheckley, and Theodore Sturgeon, with whom he also shares acute empathy for human vulnerability—even when, as in the poignant title story, an extraterrestrial race is involved. That story examines the life of Jordan, a “Keplan” who, along with his human father, is compelled to engage with earthbound bigotry and injustice in their grandest and pettiest manifestations. In “Spider King,” an inmate is released from custody after receiving an injection that transforms his body into a breeding nest for spiders. It may sound like high-concept gore, but as in other Key stories, “Spider King” is elevated above such fare by its up-to-the-minute social detail about the struggles of ex-convicts to avoid both recidivism and stigmatization. As in the best SF, the topical and the universal blend seamlessly here. “Wellness Check,” for instance, convincingly presents an alternate version of our world whose social norms have been battered and restructured by a series of pandemics. (Never leave home without your Viral Detection Reality glasses!) Another “what-if” tale, “Afiya’s Song,” imagines a different pre-Civil War South where a young girl’s resistance to her master lights the fuse for what becomes a widespread, successful slave insurgence. About 200 years later, in “Customer Service,” an unhappy client of something called Two Places at Once finds his A.I. doppelgänger going way too far in his prescribed duties as a substitute. Perhaps the most haunting and heartbreaking is “The Perfection of Theresa Watkins,” in which a grieving husband downloads the consciousness of his dead Black wife into the body of a white woman with distressing psychic baggage of her own. Key resolutely carries on the tradition of the modern SF writers who always found new and rueful ways of reminding readers that no matter how much technology changes, humanity, in its loneliness, folly, and constricted vision, somehow never does.

Key acknowledges all kinds of terrifying possibilities for dreaming the future—and inhabiting the present.