Exurb1a Exurb1a

The Galactic Human Empire was built atop four logic, physics, psychology, and sociology. Standing on those pillars, humans spent 100,000 years spreading out into the warring, exploring, partying — the usual. Then there was the fifth science. And that killed the empire stone dead. The Fifth Science is a collection of 12 stories, beginning at the start of the Galactic Human Empire and following right through to its final days. We’ll see some untypical things along the way, meet some untypical galactic lighthouses from the distant future, alien tombs from the distant past, murderers, emperors, archaeologists and drunks; mad mathematicians attempting to wake the universe itself up. And when humans have fallen back into savagery, when the secrets of space folding and perfect wisdom are forgotten, we’ll attend the empire’s deathbed, hold its hand as it goes. Unfortunately that may well only be the beginning.

It is the end of history and all is known, or will be soon. Humanity long ago transitioned to the era of holy technology. Now humans present as saintly animals, spending their days in meditation and drug-induced euphoria, far from the dark secrets their paradise is founded upon. But when an ancient prophet allegedly returns in the form of a troubled young girl, galactic peace can only last so long. Geometry for Ocelots is the story of two monarch siblings gone to war at the end of time—a holy empress, and an alcoholic university dean. With galactic resources dwindling, both believe they hold the answer to the crisis; be it spiritual salvation or technological nirvana. Both will be gravely mistaken.

exurb1a presents his all-new collection of self-indulgent poetry. An unlikely bestseller, so unlikely that it isn't a bestseller at all, Poems for the Lost seeks to answer age-old questions such Why do bad things happen to good people? How did the universe come from nothing? And what's the deal with shrimp? Pull up your least comfortable chair, pour a shot of hand sanitizer, it's time for self-pity.

All of time is simultaneous. Matter tends towards perfection. Cats can be dicks sometimes. The Prince of Milk is a leisurely stroll from prehistory to the distant future, stopping for tea in the 21st century English countryside. Before the time machine, before the undead mannequins, before the cat with the universe eye, there were the arbiters. They regulated the world and kept reality from banging into itself. All was well in paradise. But even the gods end up in love triangles from time to time. Several galaxies and a dimension away, Wilthail is a small English village alternating between flower shows and the occasional divorce. Life ambles. Old men and women make peace with their gods. Little do they know three deities walk among them already, biding their time before an ancient grudge rears its head. The world is a garden. The world is a gutter. Which is it? PRAISE FOR THE PRINCE OF MILK: “Please stop contacting me. I’m not going to read your book.” – Exurb1a’s mother “Sorry, I don’t like science fiction.” – Woman on the bus “Is that you again? Look, we’ve talked about this.” – Exurb1a’s mother

Mathematician Polly Hare is missing. She leaves one cat, one scarf, and a hypergeometric theory of everything with the potential to end physics. Her husband Benjamin is determined to bring her home. Papers will be read. Cults will be infiltrated. Cats will be petted. Benjamin Hare cannot tie his shoes, but he may well steer the course of human history. Thousands of years later and humans have migrated into a great digital playground called Arcadia. Light is smelled. Music is eaten. Physics is near completion. These new humans have their own trials, however; an experiment in mind-blending has gone horribly wrong, giving birth to a rampant colossus. It is the end of history, but long-dead mathematician (and mediocre ukulele player) Polly Hare might have something to say on the matter. What is the origin of space and time? Why is logic built into nature? And how, exactly, does God take his tea?