by submission | Sep 13, 2023 | Story |
Author: Alzo David-West
There’s a giant beetle who lives in my apartment compound.
He does pull-ups on the taller of two high bars, in the patch by the motorcycle shelter, and chin-ups and hanging Vs and other exercises I don’t know the names of. When he’s done, he rotates the joints of his six legs and stretches his forelegs. Then, he breathes deeply for a while, and he puts his hard shiny shell against one of the poles of the high bar, standing straight for five minutes. He’s there every fourth day at around the same time in the late afternoon.
Yesterday, I saw him carrying a little beetle. He had gone somewhere down the hill and returned with a heavy backpack and a heavy trolley bag. He put his young on the rubber matting under the second shorter high bar. The little beetle was sleeping.
He sat cross-legged, observing army ants darting out of the surrounding leaves of grass. He grabbed one ant in his claws, studied it, and removed its head. The body shook, and the antennae stopped moving. He put the separated parts on the matting, and he caught another ant and another and another. He may have caught six or seven ants.
Staring over the fragments, he made a scraping sound, softly buzzing to his tired nursling.
He got up and did his exercise routine. And when he was finished, he awoke the little beetle, put the backpack on his shell, held the young one’s claw, and pulled the trolley bag, and they left. The army ants lay on the matting, silent, and I wondered why the giant beetle who lives in my apartment compound decided to analyze ants that day.
by submission | Sep 12, 2023 | Story |
Author: Majoki
Kelly was rambling in a lush meadow south of Killarney when he tumbled and fell headlong into the demon’s lair. As demons go this one was unerringly civil and greeted Kelly as a long lost uncle might.
“Faith! ‘Tis Kelly is it not? You’re a welcome sight. Have a nip with me,” the demon exclaimed and offered forth a chipped mug filled with a peaty distillation.
“Well met,” Kelly replied, extending a hand to clasp the bone-cold of the demon’s drink. He tipped the chill cup and let it burn blessedly down. “Ahhhhh. That’s a swell number.” He saluted the demon with his mug. “I be Kelly. One of a million. But only meself. To what do I owe this pleasure, sir demon?”
The demon snorted delightedly, blue flame flitting from his nostrils to singe the long, pointy, blood-stained beard that framed his hollow face. “Kelly, Kelly. No wonder your fame precedes you like the savor of me mum’s lamb stew. I’m no sir. You’ll not be talking to the likes of Maxwell’s demon in these here parts. We’re plain demon folk that plots our mischief as it pleases us. Have another try,” the demon offered, refilling Kelly’s mug.
Ever a sociable guest, Kelly hoisted the drink. “Faith,” he toasted with a smile, then wiped his lips before continuing. “Whatever the need, whatever the circumstances, the pleasure’s mine. What can I do you for, your infernalness?”
“Only your company for a few moments. Then I must return to business. The diabolical consumes us these days. No rest for the wicked in these troubled times.”
Kelly grunted his keen assent. “Aye. To be sure. Trouble afoot. You sure I cannot help?”
“Faith, me very mother! Kelly, your presence is our succor. You provide our purpose. Without you all would be lost in immediate victory. The struggle is all. Surely, you know that?”
“It may be. I take little notice. My aim is to others. A gain for all and nothing for meself.” He tapped the demon’s mug. “Except the sustenance that allows me to ramble, tumble and be of service. ‘Tis only natural.”
The demon refilled his mug. “To nature.”
Kelly saluted. “Our better ones. Though I make no personal distinctions.”
“Aye,” the demon assented. “Better natures. Me sworn enemy and bitter love.” A molten tear appeared at the corner of the demon’s cat-like eye and then dropped to the damp hard packed earth where it sizzled for a brief moment.
Kelly patted the corduroy breeches at the demon’s knees. “Faith, you mustn’t despair.”
“You know it to be so, though I do fret. To war is to breathe for me brethren, and I ken less and less of your ways and wonders, Kelly.” The demon motioned to a corner of his dark lair where amid piles of gnawed bones there lay an astonishing assortment of smart-tech: phones, watches, glasses, clothing, tablets, laptops and more.
Kelly shrugged. “Toys and tools. They change nothing. Leave us to our own devices. We will always meet you halfway, poor soul.”
“That is why you are legend, Kelly. You truly ask nothing of yourself. You serve all and hope for the best. You fear nothing—not even entropy.”
“Pshaw. Thermodynamics is a child’s bogeyman. Quantum relativism a witch’s wart at midnight. Metaversal mechanics a pocked pixie.” Kelly dismissed them all with a wave. “The here and now. ‘Tis simple. Complexity is to desire. To control. You’ll not find me there. Help is a hand—at hand.”
The demon stood. He was three-quarters the size of Kelly, though his shadow blacker than the singularity, towered over them both. He kicked at a gleaming laptop with his cloven hoof. “Strange and heartbreaking that you have no enemies, Kelly. I would have sold my soul twice over to make war upon you—with rocks, blades, guns or Denial of Service attacks. And you would only open your arms wide to my aggressions. You’d assist in my assaults. You can see why I grieve. Why I despair.”
“Aye, my good demon. You suffer. But, I cannot. The lot of us will share the same heat death. Only then is it to mourn. Fill me cup once more and let us toast. Then I must get to roamin’ once more.”
The demon poured the draught. They clinked cups and raised them.
“To your devices,” the demon prayed.
“And nothing for meself,” Kelly added, his smartphone buzzing in his pocket.
by submission | Sep 10, 2023 | Story |
Author: Emma Burnett
Lila held her daughter tightly. The blows from the girl’s little fists fell onto Lila’s shoulders, her cries reverberated through Lila’s head.
“Ted. Ted!” Yanni screamed. Lila’s heart broke for the little girl.
They’d been lucky, Lila knew. They had been in a neighbours’ room when the tiny space pebble had punctured the cheap wall of their outer-lining room. Otherwise, they’d be locked in there, too, like Yanni’s teddy, the only thing left from their emergency flight off-planet. They’d be locked on the other side of the plexi, trying to plug the hole with anything they could get their hands on, waiting for a hullbot to crawl around to them. The bots were programmed to prioritise paid cabins, not the refugees tacked to the outside. They’d probably have frozen, or suffocated, waiting for the bot.
“Ted!” Yanni’s howls cut through the gathering, muttering crowd.
Yanni’s despair was contagious. Panic rose up through Lila. Her throat felt tight. She needed to get into the room, needed to save the last bit of home for her daughter. She shifted her daughter on her hip and pressed her free palm against the door panel.
“Unlock, dammit!” she yelled at the door. She could dash in, grab the bear. Two steps, that’s all it would be. It was a very small room; she would be fine.
“Good luck with that,” the voice emanated from a speaker. The ship’s AI was a casual bully, programmed by people who cared about the location of your room. Luxury inner cabin? Chipper, helpful. Relief outer-lining capsules? Like it said. Good luck.
“Please? Please? Just a quick in-and-out? I could even plug the hole from the inside, save you some work, save you some oxygen.” Air was leaking from the tiny hole, but if it got much bigger the repairs would be much harder for the ship’s bots.
There was a pause. Then the AI said, almost grudging, “Access granted.”
She cupped Yanni’s face and stared into her eyes for a heartbeat. Then she kissed her daughter’s wet cheeks, breathed in the scent of her.
“I’ll get Ted. I love you,” she whispered before she passed her to a neighbour.
Lila took a deep breath and reached for the panel. She couldn’t save them from the past, but she could do this. The bolt on the door thunked.
The room
on the other side of the plexi
exploded.
by submission | Sep 9, 2023 | Story |
Author: Maria S. Picone
Efforts to save the spaceship Visioning failed. “We might as well see what’s out there,” the First Mate said. Xir rainbow head tilted towards the viewing port. “Find help, maybe.”
The Captain crossed his arms. “I will stay with the ship.”
The crew’s glowing eyes, fiery eyes, even cactopod eyes looked liquid, human. “We are the ship.
He patted her control console—so much flight time—and whispered goodbye.
They donned spacewalk suits. The First Mate stuffed xir pockets with candy; the Captain saved the Thalarcis meteorite. Then they opened the gate and activated their jets into the wild dark.
by submission | Sep 8, 2023 | Story |
Author: Peter Cherches
I was waiting for the Manhattan-bound Q train at the Seventh Avenue station, the one in Brooklyn. While I was waiting, I looked across the tracks at the Coney Island-bound platform. I saw my next-door neighbor.
I couldn’t really make out the expression on his face from that distance, but he appeared to be looking at me.
I wondered who noticed whom first. When I noticed him, he might already have noticed me. Or not.
I wondered where he was headed. Was it a short ride, to Ditmas Park or Midwood, or was he going all the way, to Brighton Beach or Coney Island?
I wondered if he wondered where I was heading. In my case there were many possibilities. I could have been waiting for a Q or a B, which fork off after Brooklyn, to Manhattan, or I could be transferring to any number of other lines at the next stop, Atlantic Avenue. While not endless, possibilities abounded.
The neighbor’s train arrived before mine. He boarded a Brighton Beach-bound B train.
A minute or two later a Manhattan-bound B train arrived. I was going to Union Square, so I still needed to wait for the Q.
To my surprise, the neighbor got off the Manhattan-bound B train, noticed me, nodded, and headed toward the stairs.
When the Q train arrived, I was already on it.
