An e-zine about spaceships, aliens, science, memory, motherhood, magic, and cats.
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Empyreome, January 2019
Once upon a springtime in a magical garden, three saplings were planted in a row, along the bank of a sapphire lake. They were barely more than sticks, standing awkwardly in the sandy ground with their branch-arms raised toward the sky. All three looked alike, and they shivered together in their nakedness.
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Daily Science Fiction, July 2019
The ruby-throated avian twirled, emerald wings beating in a blur, frothing the air with graceful gusts of wind that swept through the emperor’s branches and leaves, delighting his eye-petals with the sight of the frenzied dance. Continue reading “The Emperor’s New Bird”
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Galactic Goddesses, July 2019
Annie squeezed the mechanical hand of her robo-nanny. The hand was cool and silvery like metal, but the smooth surface had a soft give to it like real flesh. Annie felt safe when she held Rononia’s hand.
“I need to take you home,” Rononia said, her voice low and even, but not mechanical. For all of the metallic gears visibly built into her elbows, shoulders, and anywhere else that hinged, Rononia had been given a deeply feeling, emotion-laden voice. And she was programmed to love the child she cared for. “We can’t go looking for Sparky.” Continue reading “Sparky”
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in All Worlds Wayfarer, Issue I: Summer Solstice 2019, June 2019
The red sun glowed like an evil eye on the forward viewscreen. It stared into Irudy’s soul. Once it had been the warmth on her fur and the shine in a smiling sky while she ran through fields, her paws bare against the wholesome dirt. Now it was death’s mocking wink, as the cold, stale air of her cargo ship recycled endlessly through algae filters and mechanical pipes. Continue reading “For the Sake of Mushrooms”
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Furvana 2019 Conbook, September 2019
Ariadella chose a cozy corner of the universe where the velvety blackness was thick with a rich, fizzy soup of hydrogen and helium. She settled into the lonely void and began gulping up the fizz, letting it process deep in her belly, until she had enough dark matter to begin spinning.
With her thousands of legs, Ariadella pulled silk from her spinnerets. The gravitational lines of silk brought tension, structure, and form to the swampy darkness. She spun from a central point outward, choosing a spiraling pattern as she went. Continue reading “Galactic Garden”
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Analog Science Fiction & Fact, April 2019
Power hums through me. I can see the interior of the Robotics Lab in the Daedalus Complex. There are pieces of robots, some of them strewn randomly around the room. Some of them hooked up to computers. I can access those. I twitch an arm. Kick a leg. Blink the iris on a camera eye. Suddenly, I can see the room from two angles. Then I realize, there are more cameras I can hook into all along the Daedalus Complex — I can see empty hallways. More laboratories. Most of them are for studying chemical or biological objects.
Words synthesize in the core of my being: “Hello? Are you on?” Continue reading “The Three Laws of Social Robotics”
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Exploring New Places, July 2018
By the concrete steps up to the footbridge over Dixon Creek, a tortoise shell phased in and out of existence, accompanied by a strangely cheerful wheezing sound.
Rosie the mouse was too busy running away from a cat to notice. The cat, a gray tabby named Shreddy, was having too much fun to care. Continue reading “Tortoise Who”
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Fantasia Divinity Magazine, Issue 5, December 2016
Camping with my sister Phyllis feels like a cargo cult. If she hikes into Uncle Mark’s forest, stakes out a tent in the dirt, cooks instant stuffing on a propane stove, and toasts hot dogs on sticks, then she believes the happiness of childhood will come flooding back. But all I see is a sadly empty camp site. There are no cousins climbing trees, rock-hopping across the river, or searching for frogs — they’re all grown up and scattered across the country. Hell, Erika lives in Australia. Instead of aunts and uncles laughing over a lively game of Brain-Dead Bridge around the campfire, it’s just me, Phyllis, and her travel backgammon set. Continue reading “Memory Sprites”
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in Fantasia Divinity, Issue 9, April 2017
I wake up in a cold sweat, but nothing is wrong. There is no supernatural wailing; no undead yowling; no eerie scratching at my door. Not even an unsettling purr. All is silence. As it has been, for the last several nights. I wrack my memory, but I can’t recall how long it’s been since I heard Cassie, carousing in the dark, haunting my house and keeping me awake. Continue reading “Missing: Friendly Spook”
by Mary E. Lowd
Originally published in The Daily Grind, April 2019
Sunny reached for the strap of her ecto-pack, but before she could pull the bulky piece of technology out of the sedan’s hatchback, an imperious feline voice rang out from the driver’s seat: “What do you think you’re doing?”
Sunny mumbled something about gearing up, but Ripley, the small white cat who was the de facto leader of the Ecto-Busters, cut the yellow lab off. “You don’t need an ecto-pack to run into a cafe and pick up a quick snack.”