An e-zine about spaceships, aliens, science, memory, motherhood, magic, and cats.
by Daniel Lowd & Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Kaleidotrope, October 2017
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”
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Electric Spec, November 2017
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.
“Come inside,” she said. Continue reading “The Fish Kite”
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in The Opposite of Memory: A Collection of Unforgettable Fiction, February 2024
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.
And yet, here I am.
I put my daughter in charge of my finances years ago, and she assures me this is affordable and works. She’s good with numbers and research, like her dad was. I’ve always been the impulsive one. Continue reading “Heaven is the Best Moment of Your Life, Infinitely Remixed and Played on Loop”
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Analog Science Fiction and Fact, August 2023
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.
But it’s not a normal day. Continue reading “My Sister, the Space Station”
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in ROAR 11, July 2022
The thing that surprised Lora most about being an otter was that her face was round, and her nose was round. Everyone thinks of otters as long. With their sinuous spines, like weasels and ferrets, they’re big ol’ fuzzy noodles. But when Lora looked at her face — round. So round.
When Lora had been a cat, her face had been full of corners and edges; triangular ears, articulated muzzle; even the shape of her eyes had been filled with crescents and sharpness. Continue reading “Octopus Ex Machina”
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Welcome to Wespirtech, October 2023
The girl was science; chemistry personified, manifested in a physical form. This is not to say that the other scientists of Wespirtech were lining up in a snaky queue through the Daedalus Complex halls to see her, study her, consult with her like she was some sort of oracle. At least, Keida didn’t think so. Her new roommate, Rhiannon, was too quiet, and serious, to draw that kind of attention.
No, it meant Keida could see chemistry thoughts as they formed in Rhiannon’s brain. The evidence was perfectly clear on her face; a look that bespoke particles and molecules moving, joining, breaking apart and reforming in an abstract space she saw, approximately five inches above her own head. Keida was afraid to interrupt. A single word from her might break the spell. All those invisible molecules would dissipate and undo hours of silent work. Continue reading “Breathing the Air at Wespirtech”
by Mary E. Lowd
A Deep Sky Anchor Original, January 2023
The city stretches as far as I know in every direction. Some kids at school say it covers the entire world, wrapping the globe of our planet in concrete snakes and strangling tentacles, dimpling its surface with metal and glass towers. I don’t know if they’re right. The websites that would tell me for sure — the good, scientific, trustworthy ones — are behind paywalls, and my parents say we can’t trust what we read on the free sites.
I know we can’t trust what we’re taught in school. Continue reading “Flowers Want to Be Free”
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Kaleidotrope, July 2019
The snow came down in flurries. It swarmed outside the window of Miley’s dorm room, brushing softly against the third story window in gusts of wind. Tiny flakes. White crystals, pinging against the glass. Miley had been checking the weather app on her phone, watching the forecast fluctuate back and forth all week — snow on Friday, no wait, now on Saturday, back to Friday, and then only freezing rain. She’d been praying for snow. Continue reading “Brain-Dead Baby Jesuses”
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Queer Sci Fi’s Innovation, August 2020
“What’s the catch?” I ask, watching her pet the silky soft fuzzball cupped in one palm. It’s green like the inside of a kiwi fruit, and about the same size.
“What do you mean?” She lowers her head, touches her brow to the curve of the fuzzball’s… back? I can’t tell what kind of anatomy it has. The thing doesn’t seem to have a head or face or eyes or mouth… anything recognizable. But it does purr. A soft cooing sound that soothes a troubled soul. Continue reading “No Catch”
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Analog Science Fiction and Fact, November/December 2020
Addie stepped onto the fanciest spaceship she’d ever seen and thrilled at the idea that she might soon own it. The twinkling lights, the shining displays, the dashboards of brightly colored buttons — all hers! She’d been saving credits for years and finally had enough to buy a fully AI-equipped, FTL-drive starhopper. Continue reading “Courtship FTL”