Hesitantly, she placed her hand over a pale orange patch in the upper right corner of the map. That should be right. Pasadena. Obsidian lifted her hand and looked under it, then folded the map and put it back on the dashboard. He could read, she realized belatedly. He could probably write, too. Abruptly, she hated him — deep, bitter hatred. What did literacy mean to him — a grown man who played cops and robbers? But he was literate and she was not.

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Hesitantly,

she

placed

her

hand

over

a

pale

orange

patch

in

the

upper

right

corner

of

the

map.

That

should

be

right.

Pasadena.

Obsidian

lifted

her

hand

and

looked

under

it,

then

folded

the

map

and

put

it

back

on

the

dashboard.

He

could

read,

she

realized

belatedly.

He

could

probably

write,

too.

Abruptly,

she

hated

him —

deep,

bitter

hatred.

What

did

literacy

mean

to

him —

a

grown

man

who

played

cops

and

robbers?

But

he

was

literate

and

she

was

not.

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excerpt from

SPEECH SOUNDS

by Octavia Butler

In a post-pandemic America where we have lost the faculty of language, Speech Sounds follows a woman who can speak and a man who can read, searching for hope in a crumbling city.

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🡠 separate
  disintegrate 🡢

ABCDEFGHIJKLM
NOPQRSTUVWXYZ
abcdefghijklm
nopqrstuvwxyz
“0123456789!?”

Separate/Disintegrate is a mechanical variable font in 3 masters
designed by Daniel Goldberg at the Rhode Island School of Design.

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As

they

passed

blocks

of

burned,

abandoned

buildings,

empty

lots,

and

wrecked

or

stripped

cars,

he

slipped

a

gold

chain

over

his

head

and

handed

it

to

her.

The

pendant

attached

to

it

was

a

smooth,

glassy,

black

rock.

Obsidian.

His

name

might

be

Rock

or

Peter

or

Black,

but

she

decided

to

think

of

him

as

Obsidian.

Even

her

sometimes

useless

memory

would

retain

a

name

like

Obsidian.

She

handed

him

her

own

name

symbol

a

pin

in

the

shape

of

a

large

golden

stalk

of

wheat.

She

had

bought

it

long

before

the

illness

and

the

silence

began.

Now

she

wore

it,

thinking

it

was

as

close

as

she

was

likely

to

come

to

Rye.

People

like

Obsidian

who

had

not

known

her

before

probably

thought

of

her

as

Wheat.

Not

that

it

mattered.

She

would

never

hear

her

name

spoken

again.

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