Anything is possible in the new world that has been fully infiltrated by "the Seep," an amorphous consciousness that is willing to give us ANYTHING so that it can learn about being human. What its end goal is we don't know, but since the invasion everyone seems happier, healthier and...mildly stoned. It's like the whole world has become a utopian Portland: "But just then, a herd of deer clipped down the street, followed by a topless unicycle collective."
Post-Seep, your body can look however you want. Identity is fluid. Body modification is taken to new heights: It's easy, painless, and nothing is permanent. Want horns? You got 'em. Want to live as a woman sometimes, but not always? Sure thing. Like Trina's wife, you can even transform into a baby. No problem! Except for the grieving spouse you leave behind.
Wrecked by grief, Trina leaves their home, struggling to find her footing in her new, upended world. And no one seems to understand her unhappiness. Everything is easy with the Seep! What is there to complain about?
Trina bucks against this queasy utopia, but it is difficult to rationalize, like when she is confronted with the neglect of her house. A volunteer offers assistance, and then makes clear that if she continues to do nothing, she will be removed from her home: "This place isn't yours to let rot. It's an asset for the community. It was built by the energies of many different life-forms, including the trees that gave their lives for its construction, the animals that gave up their homes so yours could be built here." He's got a point, and her wallowing is difficult to justify against the larger argument of communal responsibility, but also: How would you cope if your spouse ended their life in order to start again?
Amidst the easy solutions offered by the Seep, she clings to what makes her hurt; she is uncomfortable with the placidity and gentleness that are the new norm. Sometimes we want what is bad for us and sometimes, we want to remember and hold onto pain. Trina holds on to her identity as a trans woman. Her body and her history is what makes her her. "[She] had labored for this body! She'd fought and kicked and clawed to have her insides match her outsides." Our struggles, our pain, our sometimes difficult journeys are what make us human.
What kept striking me was the prescience of Porter's Seep (published in 2020) -- its voice is uncannily like the now ubiquitous AI we see all over the internet, with its chummy but alien helpfulness and cheery exclamation marks ("So, Your True Love Has Become a Baby"). At under 200 pages, The Seep is a great example of how to create a compelling world and space for ideas in a short novel.
-Michael G.
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