“The Glass City” by AnaMaria Curtis

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It's Storytime with Wil Wheaton 36 min 1 speaker 4 chapters transcribed just now
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Why does the host start with a quirky weather metaphor and a Quince sheet ad?

Wil Wheaton 0:00
When you think of Los Angeles in the summertime, you probably think of gorgeous sun-soaked beaches and incredibly warm, beautiful days, and you would be extremely wrong because we have a Mediterranean climate here and we get something that we call May Gray and then June gloom and then July. Why in the hell isn't summer yet here? Because summer waits to arrive until around the end of June. Of August. And then it shows up with a vengeance until about the second week of September, around which time false autumn arrives with its promise of cooler weather, only to flee in time for the Halloween winds. Why am I telling you all of this? Because I want you to know how grateful I am and why I am so grateful to have my bamboo sheets from Quince.
Wil Wheaton 0:48
Quince's bamboo sheets are are so incredibly soft and comfortable and I don't know, they're woven with magic. They are Cool in the summer, they are warm in the winter. And right now, when the weather just can't decide to commit to anything, they're perfect every single night, no matter what. I would love to help you make your bed your favorite place to be this season with Quince. Download the Quints app for app exclusive offers or go to quince.com slash storytime. Get free shipping on your order and 365-day returns. Test out my seasons theory in real time. Now available in Canada and the UK too. That's Q-U-I-N-C-E.com slash storytime. Um three something.
Wil Wheaton 1:54
Hi everybody. I'm Will. And it's story time. I'm so glad you're here. If I described for you A sailor. Stranded on an island, a thousand miles of ocean in every direction. It would probably be easy for you to imagine that person's sense of loneliness. If I describe for you a businessman who's been on the road for a month straight, sleeping in hotels that blur together and smear across the same lobby restaurant over and over again. Some of you could probably relate to that. Most of you could imagine it. If I told you about someone who has been othered in their family or their community. How they sat in their bedroom with the door closed. Just wished that Anyone. Would see them? Some of you will unfortunately understand that
Wil Wheaton 2:47
Precisely. that kind of loneliness. I grew up. knowing it myself as well. Even now, as happy and surrounded by love as I am, I can remember and I can still feel it. Loneliness. is such a powerful feeling. Even when it fades. Some part of it lingers. At least for me. Lurking. Waiting. on the horizon
of
Wil Wheaton 3:16
my memory. This week's storytime. is a beautiful, surreal meditation on loneliness from Anna Maria Curtis, who you may remember as the author of The Coffin Maker, a wonderful story I told you about a year ago. If you haven't heard it, it's in our archive. I am thrilled. And I am so honored to speak her words again. And I am so grateful that you are here choosing to hear them. All right, I'm gonna go ahead and when you're ready. You can come and meet me. I will be waiting for you. right outside the walls of the glass city.
Wil Wheaton 4:03
Hey you guys, before this story gets going, I feel like I should give you a little bit of a content warning. I can't get too specific with it 'cause I think it's gonna upset Uh Weight of the story. But there is loss. Very painful loss in this story. And I just thought that you should be prepared for that. If that is something that you need to be prepared for. Be gentle with yourself. And I hope you enjoy this. The glass city. By Anna Maria Curtis, originally published in Uncanny Magazine, issue seventeen.
Wil Wheaton 4:51
The wall of the city is made of glass. Smooth. Clear. Slippery and strong. The stranger and his dog wear a path outside it every day. Watching. Listening. Waiting to be ready. The wall is about three times the stranger's height, perhaps a bit taller. As perfectly crafted as the glass is, it is thick enough to cause some distortion when approached anything but head on. The stranger never looks through the glass directly. He is always circling. Always half turned away from the way the light bounces off and shatters back into a thousand rainbow shards in his peripheral vision. The language they speak in the Glass City is not so different from the language of the city the stranger grew up in.

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