Authorial Intent

Hey there.

I want to talk about why I created Horizon City and what I hope these stories will accomplish. Unlike the other themes you'll find in this universe, this one breaks the fourth wall – it's about my relationship with you, the reader, and why I believe these stories matter.

Science Fiction as a Lens for Today's Problems

In the introduction to Horizon's Hope, I laid it out pretty clearly:

"What follows is an anthology of short stories set in a city eighty five years in the future. The characters and events portrayed may be fictional, but I wrote them because of the importance of the conversations they would prompt if they were real. The themes are unapologetically a projection of the world we live in today, and the conversation I want to prompt is one about the danger of not recognizing the path we are on as a technology-faring race."

I didn't write these stories just to entertain (though I hope they do). I wrote them because I'm genuinely concerned about where we're headed as a society, especially with technology developing faster than our ethical frameworks can keep up. By projecting current trends 85 years into the future, I'm hoping to create a space where we can consider the consequences of decisions we're making right now, before it's too late to change course.

A Universe That Outgrew Me

The longer I spent building Horizon City in my mind, the more I realized something important – this world has become too big for just my voice. As I say in my outreach materials:

"This universe is too small for my voice. It requires a creative powerhouse to realize its true potential."

That might sound contradictory, but what I mean is that the issues I'm trying to explore – corporate power, technological dependence, identity, consciousness – are too complex and multifaceted for any single perspective. I've reached the limits of what I can say alone, and I believe these stories would be richer and more meaningful if other creative voices joined in.

Our Relationship as Writer and Reader

One thing you'll notice in my introduction is that I speak directly to you:

"If you find yourself thinking, 'This is already happening, just on a smaller scale,' then you aren't wrong."

"If you find yourself thinking, 'This was inspired by <insert amazing fiction here>,' then you aren't wrong."

"If you find yourself thinking, 'This would be better if…,' then you definitely aren't wrong."

I'm not just acknowledging that you'll have your own interpretations – I'm actively inviting them. I don't see Horizon City as a finished product that you should passively consume. I see it as the beginning of a conversation where your thoughts and ideas are just as valid as mine. In fact, I'm counting on you to see things I missed.

The City as Both Metaphor and Framework

The way I've structured Horizon City itself – with its distinct levels representing different socioeconomic classes – serves two purposes. First, it's a pretty obvious metaphor for the divisions in our own society. The physical stratification of the city makes abstract concepts like inequality concrete and visible.

But it's also a practical framework that allows for multiple stories to exist in the same universe without stepping on each other's toes. The Gold Level, Green Level, and Red Level each have their own feel and their own stories to tell. This wasn't an accident – I deliberately designed the city this way to create space for multiple perspectives and approaches.

Similarly, technologies like cloning and neural interfaces aren't just cool sci-fi concepts. They're exaggerated versions of technologies we're already developing, allowing us to explore ethical questions from a safe distance while still recognizing the parallels to our own world.

Why I Structured These Stories This Way

In the introduction, I'm pretty transparent about my choices:

"The order presented is strictly the author's privilege because it reveals some events and characters before others to the first-time reader in order to build a larger narrative..."

I've deliberately structured these stories to gradually build a more complex understanding of Horizon City and its inhabitants. The anthology format with interconnected but standalone stories isn't just a stylistic choice – it's designed to allow multiple entry points and perspectives while still maintaining a coherent universe.

An Invitation to Join Me

Perhaps the most important aspect of my intent is the explicit invitation I extend to you:

"...I hope that the world of Horizon City might be re-envisioned by experienced readers who have lived and died with me on those desolate streets. Horizon City exists for me, and I hope it becomes so real you embark on your own world-building journey."

I'm not just saying I'm open to your interpretations – I'm actively hoping you'll take what I've created and run with it. Make it your own. Improve it. Challenge it. The true purpose of Horizon City Stories extends beyond the text itself to inspire new creative works and conversations.

A Genuine Plea, Not a Sales Pitch

When I reach out to potential collaborators, I make it clear:

"This outreach isn't primarily about selling IP rights. It's a genuine plea for creative partnership from an artist who recognizes the limitations of working alone."

There's a vulnerability in admitting I can't do this alone, but it's the truth. The stories I want to tell about technology, society, and what it means to be human in a rapidly changing world are too important to be limited by my singular perspective.

In the end, that's what Horizon City is really about – using science fiction not just to entertain, but to prompt meaningful discussions about the direction of our technological and social development. And I firmly believe that conversation is too important to be monopolized by a single voice – even mine.

Walk safe, chummer.

-T