Chestnut Wish

“If the chestnut were a button she could have pushed to end the world — or at least undo a hundred years of evolution — she would have pushed that button.”

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Typerwriter Emergencies, December 2017


Olea started screaming first, whiskers quivering with rage.  She was an otter and should have enjoyed tumbling and playing all day.  But she was also an adult, and Shaun was a toddler.  No force on Earth or in space could keep pace with a toddler otter — except for another toddler otter, but Shaun was a rare litter of one.  No sibling playmates.

All Olea wanted was to flop down, drape her long spine over the couch, and watch some TV show with fast-talking cats and dogs in suits throwing quips at each other.  But as soon as she grabbed the remote, Shaun pointed at the TV and chirped in his high-pitched squeak, “Cho-bolos!” over and over — whatever that meant.  Why couldn’t the doggarned kid learn to speak?  Humans hadn’t uplifted otters a hundred years ago so they could chirp nonsense words.  Language.  It was the whole point of being uplifted. Continue reading “Chestnut Wish”

Foreknowledge

“I feel my heart swell with love for her like a balloon swelling into the tip of a knife.”

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Apex, February 2015


I stare out over my pregnant belly, feeling awkward.  Feeling irritable.  “Why wouldn’t I want to know?”

“Some parents don’t want to know,” Dr. Anders says.  “And we respect that.”

“It’s right there on your clipboard, right?” I point to the clipboard, and he holds it infinitesimally closer to his chest.  As if he’s hiding the results from me. Continue reading “Foreknowledge”