Bogi Takács is a Hungarian Jewish agender trans person (e/em/eir/emself or they pronouns) and a resident alien in the US. E is a winner of the Lambda award for editing Transcendent 2: The Year's Best Transgender Speculative Fiction, and a finalist for the Hugo and Locus awards. Eir debut poetry collection Algorithmic Shapeshifting is out now from Aqueduct, and eir debut short story collection The Trans Space Octopus Congregation was published in Fall 2019 by Lethe Press. You can find Bogi on various social media as bogiperson.

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Bogi Takács has the following works available at Clarkesworld:

Power to Yield

FICTION by Bogi Takács in Issue 166 – July 2020

In memory of A 0. Oyārun closed her eyes to concentrate on the video she was viewing through her neural interface. She wanted to finish her civics homework assignment fast. Just a few more hours, and then she would be done with everything that wasn’t on the preengineering track. She could get back to what […]

Some Remarks on the Reproductive Strategy of the Common Octopus

FICTION by Bogi Takács in Issue 127 – April 2017

So let’s do it this way. I’ll show you whatever I want and you’ll believe me, because I’m an octopus. I might as well get some benefit out of it, not that we ever had much—especially not since you left. Humans, huh? Humans. I slide over the eerily warm surface, watch the tiny but constant […]

Toward the Luminous Towers

FICTION by Bogi Takács in Issue 120 – September 2016

Liicha is singing an old song, his wheedly tenor not a match for the lush contralto of the original recording. And we shall soar, hand in hand, through the night sky . . . His voice grinds against the walls of the transporter, creates unwelcome resonances and echoes. Invisible fingernails scratching steel. Liicha is a kind person, the […]

Forestspirit, Forestspirit

FICTION by Bogi Takács in Issue 105 – June 2015

Apunak I race foragers to each mushroom with relish, changing from a tree to a bush to sometimes even the early autumn fog. After a decade, it’s easy to hold each shape; I don’t know if I can call this neuroplasticity any longer, in the absence of neurons. My cells are machine, and they follow […]
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