by submission | Jun 26, 2026 | Story
Author: David C. Nutt
It was a sad day for the Preston family. Della was being put down. She had been with the family for almost 12 years. Had shared the joys of promotions, birthday celebrations, and holidays. Della had seen the oldest Preston girl, Ashley, grow from lanky pre-teen into confident college sophomore. She even comforted Ashley when she broke up with her first “seriously serious” boyfriend. Della ordered and chilled a magnum of champagne when Tom, the family patriarch made partner at the firm. She consoled Margy, the Preston clan matriarch when she got the news her Mom had passed, and she was home alone. She calmed Juniors pre-game jitters and adjudicated the never ending disputes between twins Mary and Martin.
The representative from Intelli-fridge arrived at the door. He was dressed in a dark suit and tie and had the look and affect of an undertaker, which considering the unfolding tragedy was appropriate and appreciated. Margy and Tom led him to the kitchen.
“Can nothing be done for her?” Junior asked. “Maybe transfer her to a new fridge? I heard they can do that now.” Ashley said, barely keeping it together.
The Intelli-fridge rep sighed. “I’m sorry Miss, but Della’s interface architecture has degraded too much for any kind of transfer. We’ll be lucky if we can keep her photo book.
Mary and Martin collapsed into their Mothers arms crying. Tom nodded his head. “It’s time.”
The Intelli-fridge rep took out an ornate key and opened the interface portal. He inserted it in a non-descript slot and turned the key two quarter turns one way, and three the other. Della began playing some bittersweet music. Her display showed snap shots and short videos of their twelve years together. When the last set of pictures darkened Della spoke. “Oh my family, it has been my greatest joy sharing your life, and serving you. Do not weep for me for I am going to a better place now. Good Bye!” The display shut down and went dark. Della was no more. The family collapsed in tears. The twins wailing, Ashley quietly crying. Tom and Junior tried to be stoic but when they saw Margy crying. They both lost it. The representative from Intelli-fridge stood by respectfully, hands clasped in front of him. “Sir, the new fridge has arrived. Her name is Charlotte and she is eager to get to know you but understands you might need some time before she comes in. Margy nodded. “No, bring her in now. Della would have wanted it this way.” Two delivery men came in and respectfully covered Della with a dark blue cloth and wheeled her out. In a short while they brought Charlotte in. The twins ran away to hide and Margy went to go get them. Charlotte spoke up “That’s OK Mrs. Preston. They’ll come to meet me when they’re ready.”
Margy, Ashley and Junior went to go find the twins leaving Tom alone with Charlotte.
“Well, Charlotte If your half as good as Della, we’ll be pleased.”
Charlotte sighed. “I can never replace Della, but I can serve you as best as I can and with my newly expanded functions, make life easier for you.”
Tom nodded. “That’s all we ask of any of our appliances.”
by submission | Jun 25, 2026 | Story
Author: Miranda Held
Lucy Goldman attained the role of right hand and impromptu partner to her close friend Captain Gabel on the mission Salacia 8, the 3rd manned exploration of the oceans of Europa. The Salacia 6 mission used a series of drones to start building a laboratory base under the ice, and the astronauts of Salacia 7 finished the construction. Salacia 3 confirmed life on the planet, and Gabel’s crew would be the first to physically see the creatures that grew within the underwater world’s depths.
Goldman piloted the submarine while Gabel took samples. They’d collected water full of microbes and plankton, but nothing yet of a visible size for humans.
A mass covered the navigation camera. Goldman maneuvered the sub around to find the mysterious block, but everywhere she turned, the screen showed more blackness. She checked her lights, but the diagnostic showed no issues.
The Captain okayed an EVA when Lucy reported the issue, so long as she stayed near the submarine. Goldman squirmed into the EVA suit—designed to face the undersea pressure—and activated the compression chamber. This would be humanity’s first hands-on experience of Europa’s oceans. She wondered if she needed something profound to say, but only Gabel would hear. She would just edit the words before anyone back home heard them.
Darkness enveloped the submarine, and the headlight glow faded within a foot. Goldman reached her gloved hand through the light but felt nothing. Releasing her grip on the sub, she floated out until her hand found a squishy substance, which beat like a heart. She startled back, and globs of oily black came with her.
The creature lit up into swirling tentacles with bright, undulating aquamarine. Bioluminescence was an unlikely find considering the ocean waters looked pitch black, so the animals here likely navigated by means other than eyes. For what purpose did this splendor serve?
The lights mesmerized, appearing as if looking into a wormhole to the secrets of the universe, and Goldman’s eyes locked onto the colors, like a child to a TV screen, unable to escape its pull, to ignore all the new information.
Water broke the dam in her brain, and Goldman’s mind became one with the swirling sea. She felt hundreds of heartbeats from creatures on the other side of the moon as if they were her own.
She unlatched her tether and floated toward the creature. This was her calling, the apex of existence. She’d never be alone, never feel pain that could not be healed with ease. This was where she belonged.
THE NEW YORK TIMES
April 18th, 2086
“On April 17th, astronaut Lucy Goldman tragically drowned during a mission on Jupiter’s moon Europa, which was confirmed to have extraterrestrial life two years ago. The whole Earth mourns this great loss, while many question what this means for the future of the Salacia missions.
“Captain Gabel states, ‘I don’t know what went wrong. The suit showed no damage nor did Lucy express any distress. One minute she’s there, the next complete disconnection. I couldn’t find a sign of her anywhere.’
“People are in uproar over the mystery of Goldman’s death. One user on X writes, ‘we can’t send any more missions to that death trap until we know what happened to Lucy Goldman.’
“Gabel says, ‘Lucy was my dearest friend. I’ll mourn her death for the rest of my existence, but I do not believe we should let this prevent new discoveries. We have tons of new data about Europa, and there’s so much more to discover.'”
by submission | Jun 24, 2026 | Story
Author: Majoki
Walk it. That’s how I processed a murder. Walk the crime scene, walk the neighborhood, walk until my mind caught up with my legs.
This case would take a lot of walking because I suspected this wasn’t an isolated killing. This looked to be related to a string of deaths and disappearances in the burbs stretching back years.
I’d made detective early in my career because I was patient. I didn’t force facts into convenient patterns. I let the evidence and environment paint the picture. And this crime scene was a huge canvas, a lush landscape brushed in blood.
So, I walked. Through the neighborhoods abutting the greenbelt where the most recent remains had been found. Almost a full corpse this time. Unexpected. Most of the remains the force had found up until now were bits of clothing, bones and teeth scattered in the undergrowth.
Since these deaths and disappearances in the county started a few years ago, popular beliefs ranged from cougars, bears or even wolves roaming the greenbelts to serial killers using the ravines as convenient dumping grounds for their victims to the turf wars of gangs using the cover of the greenbelts to make and distribute AI-generated drugs. Nasty hits that were more than mind-altering.
All plausible. All with problems. When you really walked them through. Especially with this corpse that was found face down in a culvert at the terminus of a greenbelt. The clothing shredded, the body bloated and decayed beyond recognition.
That’s what was eating at me. Making my legs turn faster and faster, so my mind would have to catch up. Beyond recognition. Of what?
Of a human?
That was the problem. It didn’t fit. Didn’t fit a cougar, bear or wolf either. The teeth and claws fit, but not the form. Or the clothing. It wasn’t at all clear what we were dealing with.
I stopped walking and took out my handheld. I brought up an aerial of the immediate crime scene. I expanded it and dropped an overlay with pins of deaths and disappearances in the county over the last three years.
I’d done this many times before, but something about this unrecognizable corpse in the culvert told me to walk it over again. I zoomed out on my screen until I could see every pin. Even the latest death.
It didn’t take any kind of skill to see the relationship of the killings to the greenbelts. But that facedown corpse in the stream was telling me something I’d overlooked.
Why greenbelts? What was their reason? Their pattern?
All greenbelts in the area stretched from the high hills. That was their origin. It was clear on the overlay. Five fingers of green sluicing into the burbs before the concrete of the city halted them. Each greenbelt a drainage, tracking back to a central source.
So elemental. So natural. They were drainages. Water forever seeking the sea.
The pattern of death pins was clear. Something was roaming the ravines, moving down towards the city. Bringing trouble. Staring at the overlay, it seemed to resolve more clearly into a massive claw with ever sharper points.
Time to walk. Back to the wellspring. Locate the source. Find the origin. Of this crime. That mutant corpse. What these new AI drug lords had spawned.
I put away my handheld. Patted my revolver. And headed up the drainage knowing full well what was going to come down on me.
by submission | Jun 23, 2026 | Story
Author: Bryan Pastor
Jayce watched it trudge out of the desert.
It took its good old time. Twice now Jayce went in for water. The desert air was dense with heat and blew in swirls making it impossible to hide from. Jayce added a little something to the second drink, something that would help with whatever this was that moved slowly thought the waste.
Jayce had almost fallen asleep leaning on an outbuilding when the noise caught his attention. Clack, skid, clack skid. It was maybe a hundred paces out. Jayce walked slowly, matching the pace. After about forty steps Jayce stopped, holding up his hand. He examined his guest waiting for it to notice hm. It was a bot, nothing factory made. It had a humanoid shape, though not symmetrical, each appendage looked scavenged. The right arm looked familiar, the O-95 unit he had lost last cycle? A leg was an inch shorter than the other.
Jayce decided it wasn’t stopping.
“Hold up there buddy.”
The bot stopped with a rattle and thud, the termination of its movement punctation on what had been a very long sentence.
“I am Royce9Blue, hand of the Master.” It began. Its voice was an unwelcome imitation of the old ship’s computer. “I have been sent here by Master to inventory your hold. It is his duty to know of all available resources should an emergency arise.”
“Not happening.” Jayce replied cutting R9B off before he could continue.
“As stipulated in the Accord of First Fall, Master is the protector of these lands and as such….”
“An accord needs at least two parties to agree to it.” Jayce interrupted, “Since your master decreed these things with no one’s consent then there is no accord.”
Jayce spat in the dust to mark his point.
“Master warned me that there would be resistance. I am prepared to complete my count by force.”
“No, you won’t”
“Say’s who.” The bot challenged.
“Says the imp you’re standing on.”
R9B’s head bobbed rapidly back and forth between looking at Jayce and the ground.
A maniacal laugh rang out, culled from some long-forgotten media. Its head stopped moving.
“I call your bluff.” R9B said
“Suit yourself.” Jayce turned and headed toward the outbuilding for a wheelbarrow.
The was a flash as R9B lifted his mis-aligned leg, though not in a spectrum Jayce could see.
_____
“Hey buddy. You, Okay?” asked the stranger.
Royce9Blue swiveled its head. It was laying on a rocky path. To its left was a steep hillside that rose a dozen meters straight up.
“Looks like you might have taken a fall. Though doesn’t look like you broke anything.”
The stranger helped R9B up. R9B looked at him, there was a moment of recognition, then a spike of interference, sight and voice crackled, then it was gone.
“Do you remember where you are going?” the stranger asked.
“NoooooooooooYeesssssssssssssss.” It stammered; its head started to bob in acknowledgement. “Back to Master. I am to receive orders of a most important nature.”
“Well then off you go.” The stranger gave him a little nudge.
_____
When it was out of sight, Jayce went up to the top of the rise and monitored R9B’s trek home.
After about an hour it disappeared. Jayce became concerned, but then twenty minutes later it reappeared. Two clicks further west.
“Tunnels. I have to start listening for frying bacon.” Jayce made a mental note to set up listening terminals.
Another two hours would go by before the explosion.
by submission | Jun 20, 2026 | Story
Author: Marion Lougheed
Sandy poked at the sticky substance on the living room floor. How many times was this stuff going to reappear? She looked at the ceiling, the plush couch, the walls, as if this time she’d pinpoint its origin.
With a sigh, she scraped it off the fake hardwood with a butter knife, then tossed the gunk in the trash. Like green gum, but not gum. It smelled like rotting grass.
When she returned to the living room, the goo had reappeared.
Angry heat shot through her. It was impossible, and yet there it was. This time when she scraped it up, she dropped the goo in a plastic container and carefully sealed it. She stuck duct tape around the lid to ensure no air — or goo — could escape.
The lab test told her little. Some kind of organic matter akin to cellulite. Like fat? She moved her rug to hide the spot where the goo had once again reappeared. Within a week, the whole floor was covered. The goo was crawling up the baseboards.
She closed the door to the living room. There was no lock, so she dragged the chest of drawers from her bedroom to block the way. At least it was contained.
A few days later as she was getting dressed for work, she dropped an earring. It scuttled beneath the bed. She knelt down to feel for it. A familiar grassy smell met her nose, and her groping fingers touched a sticky substance.
That evening, she locked the house door, loaded her suitcase into her car, and followed the signs to the nearest highway.
