Duncan A Sabien

You encounter a fourteen-year-old kid who seems troubled. Disturbed, even. It’s sort of subtle. Most of the time, he behaves well. He does his chores, turns in his schoolwork, interacts normally with friends and grownups. But every once in a while, he’ll say something that reveals that things are just … off, under the hood. Something bloodthirsty, or unhinged. Something that hints at weird fixations, deep confusions, a profound lack of empathy. Once in a while, he acts out.

Many of the people reading these essays will already be familiar with the story of hero rationalist Lt. Gilbert S. Daniels, so I’ll recount it very briefly: 1920s: Air Force needs to figure out how big a cockpit should be, when building airplanes; measures a bunch of pilots and settles on a standard. 1930s: Planes start to get faster and more complicated. 1940s: Planes are … falling out of the sky? A lot.

Author’s note: stuff has been very rough. (As a vague gesture in the direction of the type and magnitude of “very rough”: I am unable to follow through on DunConII, the sequel to DunCon, which I had been planning for ~a year and which was originally scheduled for Halloween and is now canceled instead.) Longer essays will hopefully return soon; short thoughts in the meantime.