allure of the 1950s pin-up girl; and Jane Baker’s “High Handed” shows us that when we work together with creativity, we can solve problems that at first appear out of reach.
At times, the challenges we face are of the “everyday” kind and we must decide on how to face them. In “Better to Have Loved,” Kate O’Connor imagines a world that has become uncomfortable with even the temporarily disabling experience of grieving the loss of someone loved. The more narrowly we define “normal” and “not normal” bodies, minds, and experiences, the more inaccessible life becomes. Louise Hughes’s “Losing Touch” takes us into the far future when even what counts as human is in danger of being lost entirely to technology, while Tostoini’s “Everyday Future” ambiguously features a woman who is in the process of (re)creating herself. In order to surpass barriers—whether environmental or intra-personal—the stories in this anthology underscore the need for us to come together. Petra Kupper’s “Playa Song,” Comebab’s “A Future Without Pain,” and Vincent Conrad’s “Future Coffee” all show how different kinds of people are able to talk to one another and work towards shared goals (and mutual survival against steep odds).
As it does today, technology will help us achieve our dreams, whether they are those that stem from individual ambition, like in Sara Patterson’s “A Sense All its Own,” whose blind protagonist wants to be the best pilot when everyone else tells her she can’t, or a collective desire to explore new worlds against competing, but still very human, interests as in David Jón Fuller’s “In Open Air.” Of course, technology does not come with easy answers (or even instructions): in “Pay Attention,” Sarah Pinker’s cognitively-augmented military vet must find her way in a civilian world that is rapidly changing; and in “Screens,” Samantha Rich complicates the benefits that might come with wearable tech that makes our “invisible” disabilities visible. And although the potential for continued exploitation of people with disabilities will exist in the future, it doesn’t mean that we won’t fight back. Both A.C. Buchanan’s “Puppetry” and Rachael K. Jones’ “Courting the Silent Sun” tell the stories of individuals who embrace their disability identity and turn themselves into vessels of leadership, change and hope. And the disabled protagonists in Joyce Chng’s “The Lessons of the Moon,” Jack Hollis Marr’s “into the waters i rode down,” and A.F. Sanchez’s “Lyric” do not succumb to the pressures of those people who claim to have their best interests at heart—in each story, they subvert expectations of what’s “normal” and carry out their own deep, conflicted understandings of what it means to live (and die) well.
Communication about and appreciation for our diverse experiences is essential for an accessible future. These are stories that recognize sometimes a person with disabilities has privilege in other areas of their identity, that neither cancel the disability nor negate the privilege. Some of these are stories in which people with disabilities are as strong and skilled as anyone else, or more so, although they’re not super-powered “magical PWDs.” These are stories in which choice, sometimes including the choice not to have our disabilities cured (or not in the ways that are intended), is fiercely fought for and defended. In both the stories and illustrations, people with disabilities engage with the world around them on their own terms—sometimes acting with quick cleverness and at other times with heavy hearts. Accessing the Future is just as much about everyday trials (the bad hair days and annoying friends) as it is about grand adventures and plots of revolution in far off places.
----
One of the reasons we chose the cover image that Robin E. Kaplan so beautifully created for the anthology is because our space