Jason Kehe

Tech critics are more sophisticated than ever. They’re still wrong.

Full! With that mocking little exclamation point. I do not panic. Instead what happens is: I simply go insane. Part of me stays there with Sloan, chatting about sci-fi. The rest of me is, I don’t know how else to put this, yanked, as if by some cosmic cartoon cane, offstage, into the other-dimensional wings of reality, where time is irrelevant and space sort of fizzles. In that realm, I know my task: to come up with a way to write this profile, or perish. It’s fine, I say to myself. Everything i…

God help the babies! Or, absent God, a fertility startup called Orchid. It offers prospective parents a fantastical choice: Have a regular baby or have an Orchid baby. A regular baby might grow up and get cancer. Or be born with a severe intellectual disability. Or go blind. Or become obese. A regular baby might not even make it to childbirth. Any of those things could still happen to an Orchid baby, yes, but the risk, says 29-year-old Noor Siddiqui, plummets if you choose her method. It’s often…

He’s the biggest fantasy writer in the world. He’s also very Mormon. These things are profoundly related.

The First—and Last—Time We Rank the Star Wars Movies

The only people who absolutely disagree are, well, scientists. They need to get over themselves and join the fun.

This year’s Oscar nominees for best animated feature are safe and childish. But The Willoughbys—not nominated—will mess you up.

You’ve never heard of him, but your favorite writers have, and his mad-drunk prose will knock you sideways.

In the midst of a global pandemic, the genre got a lot more real.

So I rewind Netflix, one of life’s more torturous little rituals. Then I squeeze my eyes shut—the better, I believe, to open my ears. Don’t anyone move, I mind-command the empty room. When Stallone speaks again, I’m prepared, my breath held tight. This is what I hear: “In Santo which is warmer but I ain’t got married and I said let me oh I know the girl.” Goddammit. Stallone’s a special kind of mumbler, obviously. But this is not some rando-Rambo exception. I find myself rewinding constantly in…

The literary awards are still a target for trolls—as evinced by the case of Stix Hiscock.

If you’ve ever pondered what you would say to an alien, you may get that chance between 7:30 and 8 p.m. PT tonight. Tweets in Space is a project to capture 30 minutes worth of tweets with the hashtag #tweetsinspace to beam toward an exoplanet in hopes of messaging any aliens that live there.