Dispatch from the middle of the storm

Everything seems to be happening so fast right now, this month’s newsletter is less essay and more an update from the dust trail of a whirlwind.

First up, I signed up for a dating app! And hated everything about it. Everyone seemed so earnest, looking for companionship and an end to world hunger. I edited my most desired trait to “sarcasm” in pure self-defense. I got zero matches, mostly because I refused to come out of incognito mode so no one actually saw me. I think “Sylvia is not ready for dating yet” is the big take-away here.

Second, I’ve been selected to take part in the Devconnect ARG Scholars Program, joining a global cohort of 95 scholars across different disciplines. We will be meeting virtually every week to discuss and learn before finally meeting in person in Buenos Aires in November. This is an incredible opportunity for me and I’m thrilled.

That’s where the next experiment begins: I’ve worked out that accommodation in Argentina runs about €200 a week. My goal now is to see how many articles I can sell about the experience, where each article is worth one week in Argentina. If I can sell four pieces, then I’ll make my own writing retreat, a residency without a residence.

I hope you are excited too, because if this works out, I’ll be writing all about it for you while on the road.

First: thank you to everyone already supporting this Substack. You’re funding more than a newsletter — you’re fueling international reporting, indie fiction, and questionable bird alliances.

In fact, we’re almost at my goal already! My beloved subscribers currently fund me for €194 which is just six euros short.

If you have been considering signing up at $5/month, this is a fantastic time! Just two of you could bump October’s subscriptions to a week of Argentinian updates.

But that’s not all! In No One Stopped Me, I told you how I wrote fiction as part of a 48-hour software sprint in Belgrade.

I’m thrilled to say that Nature Magazine has purchased one of those stories: The girl who used to be my sister . I can’t wait to share the story once it comes out!

Another bit of exciting news: I’ve contributed a chapter to an upcoming academic book on the Third Age of Star Trek. The book has been picked up by Edinburgh University Press and will be out in late 2026 or early 2027. I wrote about representations of old age in Star Trek: Picard, focusing on the Irumodic Syndrome plotline.

Finally, the long awaited roof-top update. Actually, that’s still to come but just to confirm that the gulls are fine, Valkarion grew from a fluffy little ball to a fully fledged Herring Gull. Most of the gulls have left, in search of better weather. The corvids have taken over the roof again and Gary and Astra come most days to stare at me until I relent and go outside with kibble.

When I took the photograph below, I was outside but sadly without kibble. Gary is staring at my desk, willing me to get back to work so he can stare at me instead. Astra is on the left, looking at me and wondering why I don’t just leave the bag of kibble outside?

You have no idea that you are constantly under surveillance until you make friends with corvids who call out to the neighborhood the moment you leave the house.

We had some excitement over the weekend. Lunch was interrupted with a very bold seagull who showed up on Crow Ledge and clumsily helped himself to the seeds. He was not the least bit threatening but the crows made way for him anyway, as he was easily twice their size. When I went out, he flew away but lazily, not the least bit threatened.

There’s only one gull who understood that the ledge was a feeding spot: Louie, the smallest gull from last year who was left behind when the gull family migrated for the winter. This one is an adult which… I guess Louie would be grown up now. And it seems like he wants to come home for the winter. I’m not sure how I could possibly tell him no.

This feels like a metaphor, but I’m not sure for what.

More soon, Argentina is looming, deadlines are circling, and the sky is full of winged spies.

And truly: thank you to all of you who’ve been supporting this newsletter, quietly making it possible for me to keep chasing stories (and occasionally chasing off gulls). You’re part of this adventure too.

-Sylvia