I shrug, but the passion bubbles up into my words nonetheless, and I find myself unable to stay silent.
“Maps are not simply a way to get from point A to point B,” I say, my voice growing stronger with this familiar terrain. “They tell stories. Convey culture. Capture a moment in time for a person and a place. Maps are art, and for the first time in centuries we’re doing more than rehashing terrain that has been drawn and redrawn a thousand times over.”
“You’re creating something beautiful,” he says.
“Something meaningful.”
“And if your maps no longer mean anything in five years, ten years, because the sea has changed all over again?”
“Nothing is meaningless,” I say, “if it captures what was real.”
He seems satisfied by this answer, maybe because every sentence of it was true, if not in its entirety. Instead of further interrogation, he rises.
“I’d like for you to draw a map of this coastline. A commission, call it, like in the old days. Someplace to stay and a hundred dollars—”
“Two hundred.”
He blinks at me, like he wasn’t expecting me to negotiate. I meet his gaze with steady intensity and smile when he looks away.
“Two hundred,” he agrees.
“I’ll start immediately,” I say.
Nico Martinez Nocito (they/them) writes speculative poetry and fiction, often with a queer and feminist bent. Their work can be found in Strange Horizons, Grimm Retold, and in Flame Tree Press’s anthology Morgana Le Fay, among others. Learn more about them and their writing on Instagram @nicowritesbooks.
Copyright © 2025 Nico Martinez Nocito