Originally published in Kaleidotrope, October 2017
“How could an insensate automaton, a mere button-pusher and lump of cargo, touch our brilliant, shining world mind?”
We are alone now, all of us.
I still remember what it was like to communicate, to share thoughts and visions, to think together. But now, the Judgment Virus makes my mind fuzzier with each passing hour. Soon I shall lose the ability to communicate with myself, and my own thoughts shall be as lost to me as the silent strangers that were once my friends. Continue reading “Techno Babel”
Originally published in Kaleidotrope, January 2021
“My Orpheus had no lyre with him in Hades’ realm. Those perfect fingers had no strings to pluck.”
The snake didn’t bite me. It bit Orpheus, and his lyre twanged discordantly as he fell to the ground. It was the first inharmonious sound that perfect instrument had ever made. It was the sound that started my journey. It was a claw, hooked inside my ear, ripping and tearing away every illusion I’d had of safety and happiness, shattering my dreams of a future with Orpheus. Continue reading “Returning the Lyre”
Originally published in Electric Spec, November 2017
“He was so fragile now. He had been all along, but when he’d been on the memory drugs, he could hide it. A lion made of glass.”
Joan opened the door to see her ex-fiancé slumped against the door frame. Leland was a lion of a man. Tall, blonde, preternaturally confident. She’d only seen him looking haggard and haunted like this once before, ten years ago, when his memory drugs had worn off. That had been the beginning of their end.
Originally published in Every Day Fiction, October 2015
Jenny felt inside her pocket. There was a small, smooth pebble that she’d been hiding since she was tiny. A multi-dimensional creature had appeared to her and begged her to keep it safe. If she dug her fingernail into it…
But she mustn’t. She mustn’t. She had to be strong.
Originally published in The Opposite of Memory: A Collection of Unforgettable Fiction, February 2024
“…while you’re frozen, we’ll keep your brain stimulated, causing it to form an endless dream centered on those seed memories.”
When I was a kid, cryogenically freezing yourself was something crazy rich people with more money and desperation to live forever than actual common sense did to themselves to escape dying. It was a joke. And I can’t entirely get over seeing it that way.
Originally published in The Opposite of Memory: A Collection of Unforgettable Fiction, February 2024
“People use the hypercrystals for all sorts of reasons, of course. Not just big decisions, like this one.”
Sometimes two roads diverge in a wood, and you can never know what would have happened if you’d taken the other path. Or so I’m told. It hasn’t been that way since before I was born.
Like my mother before me, I lay my hand on the hypercrystal when it’s time to decide what I want to do with my life — whether I want to have a child and become a mother or… not. Continue reading “Two Roads Diverge”
“Alivia thought she would have liked being a frog. They spent a lot more time in the water than she did.”
The sky was a the kind of empty blue that foretells a sunny, uneventful day, as untouched by actual weather as a day can be. Alivia couldn’t stand it. She wanted to frolic in mud puddles, dancing under the droplets of a gusting storm. She wanted to prance and twirl on her cloven hooves, shake raindrops from her snowy mane like a waterfall, and spear the thorn-sharp tip of her horn into as many individual drops of water as she could. She wanted to play rainy day games.
Originally published in Analog Science Fiction and Fact, August 2023
“Will a space station — where people just live their lives, instead of doing groundbreaking scientific research — be painfully boring after having been my own glorious self, inhabiting and haunting the computers of Wespirtech?”
The people walk my halls like it’s any normal day. Scientists work on their research. Administrators try to balance budgets without understanding why they’re constantly coming unbalanced. (I unbalance them. Humans don’t know what they should spend their money on as well as I do.) And everyone acts like it’s a perfectly normal day.
“It had been a long day, but it made her happy to spin with Callie. It reminded her of the world with carnivorous purple dolphin creatures and how the two of them had spun on the slippery surface of an iceberg after slaying one.”
The Checkerboard Ultrarocket shot through the hyperspace portals linking Zorpa II’s location in the universe back to the Milky Way galaxy, the terran solar system, and finally Earth. The greens of Earth’s continents looked richer and the blues more regal compared to the faded shades of Zorpa II’s honeydew green oceans. Earth is a beautiful world, and all worlds are like gemstones set in the black backdrop of space. Even dusty, rocky asteroids and icy hunks of comet, hurtling aimlessly through space, are the bits of gravitational color that make the universe complicated and exciting. Continue reading “Commander Annie – Part 6”
Annie reached out too, but hesitated before touching the silvery surface. “May I?” she asked. “Is it safe?”
“Can I show you something?” Ootel asked, standing up from the bed and stepping toward the closet. “I’ve been building something too… Not a spaceship, but I had hoped it would let me travel to other worlds.”
Ootel scooped a bunch of the clothing off of the floor of the closet and dumped it in the corner of their room; then they kicked a few of the remaining robes out with their hind hooves. Once the closet was clear enough for both of them inside, Annie followed them in. Ootel pushed aside the hanging clothes, and behind them, Annie saw the two of them reflected in an oval mirror. A green bipedal giraffe standing beside a human girl, both of them wearing simple, practical clothing. Annie smiled. She knew that Callie thought their space helmets looked goofy, but she loved how she looked in a bright red bicycle helmet. Space helmets are cool. Continue reading “Commander Annie – Part 5”