We See a Different Frontier: A Postcolonial Speculative Fiction Anthology Read Online Free PDF

voice exploded. “He was a dreamer, but he was weak. He lacked the killer instinct. He brought us this far, but now we—I—need more. I need a true warrior at my side if I am to become the Queen of Hollywood and Empress of the World!”
    She raised my hand—that was still clutching the death ray—over our heads.
    For a moment the men were an army of statues. I wasn’t sure if they were going to kill us.
    Then one of them yelled, “Hail, Xiomara! Queen of Hollywood and Empress of the World!”
    Soon they were all repeating that, roaring, cheering.
    Then turned to me. “And would you be my emperor, Alejandro, my love?”
    Before I could kiss her, she turned to the cameraman: “We’re ready for our closeup!”
    I didn’t say anything. I just kissed her with passion.
    But I did keep one eye open.

Them Ships
    Silvia Moreno-Garcia
    Leonardo says that the Americans are going to fire some rockets and free us from the tyranny of the aliens and I say: who gives a shit. Lemme tell you something: it wasn’t super-awesome around here before the aliens. At least we get three meals every day now.
    I used to live in a cardboard house with a tin roof and collected garbage for a living. They called my home a “lost city” but they should’ve called it “fucked city.”
    Leonardo talks about regaining our freedom, ’bout fighting and shit. What damn freedom? You think I had freedom in the slums? Leonardo can talk freedom out his ass because he had money before this thing started and he saw too many American movies where they kill the monsters with big guns.
    I’m not an idiot. The cops used to do their little “operations” in our neighborhood. They’d come in and arrest everyone, take everything. They weren’t Hollywood heroes out to help people. They were fucking assholes and I don’t see why they would have changed. As for American soldiers saving the day: you think they give a rat’s ass ’bout Mexico City? You think they’re going to fly here in their helicopters and save us?
    I say fuck that shit. I never had no freedom. Leonardo can go piss himself.
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    Leonardo’s been going on ’bout freedom fighters again, which means I’ve been putting on the headphones and listening to my music. The good thing is the aliens let me charge the player. Otherwise I’d kill that little shit.
    Well, he ain’t that little. Leonardo is pretty tall, probably ’cause he didn’t have to eat no garbage when he was growing up. His dad had some sort of fast food franchise and Leonardo was doing really well, studying at the Tec, fucking pretty girls and driving a fancy car ’til the aliens landed and started rounding people up in sectors. And, since the aliens don’t classify by social status, Leonardo got put in with me. I’m not sure if he was more dismayed ’bout being a prisoner or ’bout having to share a room with the likes of me. I’d say me.
    I don’t really care. Our home was a one bedroom which I shared with my three sisters and my parents. Sharing with one person is easy and it’s even easier when that person doesn’t reek of alcohol-laced coffees, like my dad did. The asshole’s probably dead and I’m fucking glad for it and I’m also glad now I only share my room with Leonardo. Got my own bed now. My own desk. I don’t write much, except for them diary entries ’cause the aliens say it’s healthy.
    Leonardo’s complaining that they’re trying to break our spirits again and I tell him to go fuck himself.
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    The first time I saw the spaceship I was walking down the ravine, picking garbage. ’Cause that’s what I did every day. Get my bags and strap them and go pick around. There’s some good shit you can find in the garbage, like my music player.
    So there I am looking for soda cans and plastic bottles I can drag to the recycling centre, or a juicy find I can sell, and it gets dark, like a cloud just passed over the sun. I don’t look up at first because I’m busy but then there’s this weird