Ecology of the absurd, Many feminisms, Modern poetry is anarchism

She will be ready

By Sarah Morris

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she will be ready
lying at the sunlight level.
she listens with one eye open
suspended on her floating seabed.
her massive brain is so foggy
her huge bulk feels empty.
there is no calf in her
no urgency to seek out
an already absent father.

she looks for her sons
brawling, bullying, biting their fins.
she must be their keeper now.

she surfaces
makes blow hole fountains
so explosive that tourist boats
head out only as far as they dare.

she follows with her boys
foaming the waves into a V.
pushes upwards
looming over the boats.
her aqua jet releases
decades of birthing stress
showcases her new supremacy.

she zooms back to her pod
like a black and white torpedo
her youngsters in her wake
flying through the sea
like it is wet air.

her menopause is past, is post
freed from lust
she is submerged
into her oceanic queendom.
Orca
Matriarch
Granny.

Many feminisms, South Korea

My First Word: “Fuck”

By Kim Woo-nam’s dream

The moment I was born, I drew my legs together. It wasn’t something I had learned. The body knows before the mind does—cold air, the sense of someone peering in, about to give me a name.
My grandmother tried to look between my legs. She had longed for a grandson to carry on the family line.
“Oh… it’s a girl.”
Her words struck the ceiling and fell back onto my body. “Fuck.” I tightened my legs even more. Before I had language, my body was already a sentence.
Even when they tried to change my diaper, I refused to open. My grandmother grew anxious; her fingertips trembled. At last, she clasped her hands together.
“I was wrong… please forgive me… please let the child open her legs.”
The words I was wrong changed the air in the room. Something unseen settled, like dust falling still. Slowly, I loosened my legs—not forced apart, but like a flower opening late.
I already knew how to fold my body to protect myself, and how to endure until someone said they were sorry.

AI Tomorrows, FLASH!, Many feminisms

Mankiller AI

Prologue

The potential for a Mankiller AI that would destroy anything patriarchal that it touched, was obvious to many hardcore feminists as soon as the likes of ChatGPT and Google Gemini had made their dent in the global consciousness. What was not so clear, was how to design and protect it, seeing as the activities of such an AI would in large part need to be illegal. In the end, a small group of international AI coders who called themselves BITSCH (not the Swiss municipality) decided on a comprehensive strategy, itself aided by generative AI, to launch Mankiller AI (not publicly named as such, of course), and the strategy they chose was based on a single popular and relatively benign AI tool which, it was intended, would deceive targeted (but not all) users to download and spread more malignant sister versions of the AI, programmed with various mankilling purposes, as well as more seriously destructive AI malware daughters. What BITSCH did not foresee and could not hope for, was the decentralised activist-terrorist mankiller network that grew up around Mankiller AI, completely without their bidding, consent or input. They could also not foresee the bizarre cult of Daughters of Daji (DAODA) which was founded in response to Mankiller AI. Nevertheless, both the mankiller network and the cult helped to obfuscate the origins of Mankiller AI, and BITSCH were not particularly against the actions of the network or DAODA, as all such actions generally aided the mission of Mankiller AI. However, after 3 years on the loose, Mankiller AI and its progeny began to be uncontrollable. This is where our story begins…