Podcast – Cory Doctorow's craphound.com

I recorded a podcast this morning for the Thunderbird Six show, a science-related podcast from Thunder Bay, Ontario. We covered the usual stuff — copyright, DRM, science fiction, EFF — they’re funny guys, too.

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Here’s part 7 — chapters 17-18 — of the reading of my novel Eastern Standard Tribe.

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Here’s part 6 — chapters 14-16 — of the reading of my novel Eastern Standard Tribe.

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NPR’s Rick Kleffel has just posted a long, in-depth interview he did with me last week in San Francisco, just before my signing at Borderlands Books.

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Here’s part 5 — chapters 12 and 13 — of the reading of my novel Eastern Standard Tribe.

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Here’s part 4 — chapter 11 — of the reading of my novel Eastern Standard Tribe.

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Here’s part 3 — chapters 9-10 — of the reading of my novel Eastern Standard Tribe.

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Here’s part 2 — chapters 5-8 — of the reading of my novel Eastern Standard Tribe.

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Here’s the first installment of the podcast of my second novel Eastern Standard Tribe, a novel of political intrigue among high-tech, sleep-deprived management consultants. This is my most ambitious podcasting project to date — I figure it’ll take 4-6 months to complete.

I’ve found a half-brick that was being used to hold down the tar paper around an exhaust-chimney. I should’ve used that to hold the door open, but it’s way the hell the other side of the roof, and I’d been really pleased with my little pebbly doorstop. Besides, I’m starting to suspect that the doorjamb didn’t fail, that it was sabotaged by some malevolently playful goon from the sanatorium. An object lesson or something.

I heft the brick. I release the brick. It falls, and falls, and falls, and hits the little blue fartmobile square on the trunk, punching a hole through the cheap aluminum lid.

And the fartmobile explodes. First there is a geyser of blue flame as the tank’s puncture wound jets a stream of ignited assoline skyward, and then it blows back into the tank and boom, the fartmobile is in one billion shards, rising like a parachute in an updraft. I can feel the heat on my bare, sun-tender skin, even from this distance.

Explosions. Partial nudity. Somehow, though, I know that this isn’t the climax.

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My short-short story Printcrime, originally published in Nature Magazine (and since reprinted in my brand new short story collection, Overclocked) has just been adapted for audio by the brilliant SF podcast show, Escape Pod. Download it free!

The coppers smashed my father’s printer when I was eight. I remember the hot, cling-film-in-a-microwave smell of it, and Da’s look of ferocious concentration as he filled it with fresh goop, and the warm, fresh-baked feel of the objects that came out of it.

The coppers came through the door with truncheons swinging, one of them reciting the terms of the warrant through a bullhorn. One of Da’s customers had shopped him. The ipolice paid in high-grade pharmaceuticals — performance enhancers, memory supplements, metabolic boosters. The kind of things that cost a fortune over the counter; the kind of things you could print at home, if you didn’t mind the risk of having your kitchen filled with a sudden crush of big, beefy bodies, hard truncheons whistling through the air, smashing anyone and anything that got in the way.

They destroyed grandma’s trunk, the one she’d brought from the old country. They smashed our little refrigerator and the purifier unit over the window. My tweetybird escaped death by hiding in a corner of his cage as a big, booted foot crushed most of it into a sad tangle of printer-wire.

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