by submission | Jun 30, 2026 | Story
Author: Mark Renney
Replacements are more prevalent than flesh and blood, skin and bone, almost everyone at some point becomes part of the System. There are still a few holdouts, of course, those professing it is better to age gracefully but there isn’t anything graceful about the geriatrics shuffling about, hiding themselves away in those foul smelling care facilities.
It is no longer necessary for us to appear old but the surgery, the injections and the gym will only take us so far. We can preserve our bodies but only for so long. As a race we have not been able to eradicate disease and addiction and we break down. The body is a fragile shell and eventually will begin to split and crack. Fluids seep from inside of us, blood, mucus and pus. Our joints creak and our organs fail but when something is not functioning as it should or is causing us pain we can, as long as we embrace the System, simply replace the failing part. Most of us do this piece-meal, over the years and the decades as required. We become vain and secretive about just how hollow we’ve become but the majority succumb. Whenever we are forced to slow down and take a breath, we re-evaluate, add another appendage, a section of the torso, or wherever we might require the replacement. Although I haven’t taken a breath, or eaten food or sipped a drink in decades, I’m ok with that as I have had a good run and in my time have tried everything and I really do mean everything and now I crave for nothing.
I am entirely inorganic now and my body is wholly hollow and this shell will not crack or split. I have no bones or organs, no fluids, just the digital stew that is keeping us, the majority, afloat. Whenever I look in the mirror I see a perfect specimen, a work of art. I am not alone, there are of course others, but nevertheless I feel that thrill and a deep sense of satisfaction. I’m looking at someone who has lived a life almost entirely without envy or regret, someone who hasn’t compromised. I will soon make the final transition and replace my brain. It will be different, I know, and I will no longer have ‘independence’. The System will make all of my choices, where I go, what I do, and how I can be useful.
by Stephen R. Smith | Jun 29, 2026 | Story |
Author: Stephen R. Smith, Staff Writer
The factory hadn’t been used for anything legal since before the wars, and beyond the smell of the place, there was a feeling, one that settled deep into one’s bones that made even the hardened criminal want to throw themselves through the nearest window to escape.
This is where Yuniker found himself collecting his cargo.
The sex trade was booming, and fresh meat was getting harder to come by. His clientele demanded services that few would dare to provide, and the money they were prepared to pay meant he could afford to go to exorbitant lengths to secure product without consideration for cost.
He would, however, have preferred a pickup location that was more aligned with his status and his taste.
Sometimes sacrifices must be made, so it goes.
The Dealer, someone whose real name he need not know, was waiting next to a small tanker in the shadows, a long metal cylinder on wheels with a large vault door on one end. The door was open, and inside the dimly lit tube, huddled at the far end were a dozen or more frightened individuals, cowering together on the floor, staring down the length of their prison at him. The shimmer of the security field made them appear even more jittery than they would be, uncertain as they were of their fate.
These would do nicely.
“Payment first,” The Dealer spoke, a genderless, emotionless voice echoing through the cavernous room.
Yuniker was already doing the mental math, working out his profit on this shipment alone, and extrapolating how lucrative future shipments might be.
He palmed a datapad from a pocket, accepted the handshake from The Dealer’s device, and transferred the considerable sum.
The Dealer moved to close the container door, perhaps a little too hurriedly.
“Wait,” Yuniker barked, “I want to inspect them.”
Reluctantly, The Dealer backed away from the door and disabled the security field.
Yuniker stepped up into the container and took several steps towards his purchase before the scene changed.
The huddled mass of people flickered and disappeared just as the static snap of the security field behind him made his stomach drop.
As the door closed slowly behind him, The Dealer spoke.
“My clientele has a particular taste for purveyors of harm and cruelty such as yourself. The money they’re willing to pay allows me to go to exorbitant lengths to secure the likes of you without consideration for cost.”
Just before the door closed completely, and darkness settled absolute, he added, “I’d happily do the likes of you for free.”
by submission | Jun 28, 2026 | Story
Author: R. J. Erbacher
It happened again. She was on vacation in Ireland, standing with a bus load of tourists on the Cliffs of Moher. The view was magnificent, gray clouds with shafts of peek-a-boo sun streaks, despite the typical weather which was not great; strong winds filled with a thin, skin-stinging mist. But through the shimmer of the moisture, she saw into… another dimension?
Always the same woman, dressed in flowing robes and a cloche head-covering, odd smooth buildings in reflective colors, strange vehicles that looked like hovering cylindrical phone booths. And each time, she appeared to be reaching out, as if she was looking for someone to pull her through the time-space continuum that separated them.
She looked around to see if anybody else from the tour was seeing it but she appeared to be the only one. The other woman’s image kept phasing in and out as if it were a hologram projection that was being interrupted by interference.
The first time was in her bathroom at home, couple of months back. After a full day of work and then drinking with colleagues she wanted a shower before bed. The sudden appearance of another person in the tub with her shocked her against the back tile wall. But as she cleared the soap from her eyes, she perceived that it wasn’t just a woman, but a whole world around her, encompassing more space than her bathroom would allow. Not a solid form but a ghostly aperture beyond normality. Tentatively she stretched for the chrome handle and shut the water off and the image vanished. She stood naked, dripping for many minutes before chalking the whole thing up to being groggy and slightly drunk.
Then weeks later she was standing on the front lawn, coffee mug in hand, examining the positioning of the arch shaped sprinkler as it oscillated one side of the grass to the next. The fine spray swung through the early morning sunshine, and the woman in her ethereal world materialized each time it atomized through the light. She stepped forward and inched her hand into the wall of water, memorized by the phenomenon. Clouds drifted into the ray of sun, and it all was gone. Sober and alert, there was no writing this off as a hallucination.
Now, thousands of miles away from her home, on a different continent, and the mystery woman and her interdimensional world was before her once more. She reached her hand out for the other woman’s and they briefly intermixed, a tingling sensation covering her skin. She couldn’t grasp her any more than she could the wind. But their eyes had a moment of connection just before the fickle weather changed, the rain stopping, and the threshold of alter reality evaporated.
She looked around and most of the bus people were staring at her with her arm stretched out into nothing. She lowered her hand and head and walked away. What the hell was this? Was she mingling with a cosmic rabbit hole? Was this just a glitch in the matrix? Was she being chosen to intervene? All that needed to be put aside. First, she had to figure out how to recreate the environment so she could get back to that overlap between the parallel realms. Then she could help.
* * *
The woman vanished. She had reached out to her, but she kept phasing out. She was shocked the first time when she saw her, naked and scared. And just now, the tingling as they touched through the portal of the fourth dimension, her reach, a desperate attempt to connect. The woman seemed to be on the edge of high, dangerous cliffs. She had to figure out how she could get back to her. And help.
by submission | Jun 27, 2026 | Story
Author: Colin Jeffrey
I was looking for a tin of tomato soup when I bumped into myself.
He was wearing my old leather jacket – the one I’d donated to charity because it reminded me of my ex-girlfriend. He looked as surprised as I felt. For a few seconds, we mirrored bemused facial contortions.
“Excuse me,” he said.
“No, excuse me,” I replied, politeness the only thing my flummoxed mind could muster when confronted with my doppelganger.
We sidestepped in the same direction. Then both the other way. Then back. Finally, we froze.
He leaned forward. “I think we might be the same person.”
“Oh, let’s not jump to conclusions,” I whispered, sounding suspiciously like the protagonist in a science fiction story where everything goes strangely awry.
I escaped to the counter with my soup and a slipping sense of self. The cashier looked up.
It was me. Again. This time with glasses – my old prescription pair, thick as cola-bottle bottoms.
“Do you want a bag?” he asked in a monotone suggesting he’d witnessed the collapse of endless universes and found them all equally banal.
“Are you… me?” I asked.
He sighed. “Aren’t we all?”
I hurried from the supermarket and stepped into the street. A woman pushing a pram passed and nodded politely. It was me. The baby in the pram goo-goo’d. Also me. Older-man-with-a-poodle me waved. Jogger me, in a velour tracksuit, waved. Dozens of mes waved from various distances, making me feel like I’d wandered onto a parade float in my own honour.
I headed home. I always made it a priority to head for familiar terrain during an existential crisis. But the bus driver was me. So was every passenger. When I tried to sit beside myself, I asked, “Is this seat free?”
“I don’t know,” sitting-me replied. “Are you?”
The bus erupted in laughter – my laughter, layered into a round, cosmic, echoing guffaw that made my organs jitter.
I got off at the next stop.
As I walked, I tried to comfort myself with philosophy. Possibly this was a dream. A hallucination. Maybe I was collapsing into a singularity of self. Perhaps I had achieved Nirvana – though I doubted enlightenment involved buying a tin of soup.
At my building, my landlord – me – stood outside arguing with a plumber. Also me. They turned in unison.
“Oh great,” landlord-me said. “Another one.”
“Don’t start,” plumber-me warned.
I slipped past and climbed the stairs to my apartment. I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and felt the relief of home – until I saw myself on the couch, eating my chips and watching my streaming service.
“Oh,” couch-me said. “You’re back.”
“What the hell is going on?!” I demanded.
Couch-me set down the bowl and leaned forward with the gravity I usually reserved for breakups.
“You ever think,” he said, “that maybe you’re not as remarkable as you thought?”
“I don’t…what? Of course I’m not remarkable.”
He nodded. “Exactly. And now the universe has decided to prove it.”
More of me entered through the front door. Some carried food. One had a guitar. Another lugged beer.
“Are you all here to replace me?” I asked.
They laughed – that layered, unsettling chortle again.
“No,” guitar-me said, attempting to strike a dramatic chord and failing. “We’re here because you already replaced yourself.”
“What does that even mean?”
Couch-me patted the seat beside him. “Relax. The universe has finally caught up with your self-image.”
Defeated, I sat.
We all watched TV together.
And, for the first time, I wasn’t sure which version of me was pretending.
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.'”
