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 Julian Miles | Sep 11, 2023 | Story |
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer
There’s a broken statue back against the wall, head and arms missing. Some humourist planted the arms in a nearby flowerpot, mossy hands up like odd blooms. There’s no sign of the head.
Headless… It’s strangely apt for this sodden remnant. England was a little place. Biggest part of an island close to Federat, back when it was called Europe. Before that, it was the seat of some pirate empire. Still holds the record for nearly conquering the world, apparently.
The Sundown War did this place no favours. Nobody predicted the tectonic consequences of a major nuclear exchange. Even now, they’re still studying the minutiae of the effects, trying to define the cause. If the remaining pieces of the nuclear powers were honest, they’d admit most of their budget is being spent on it. They don’t like their terror weapons being too dangerous to use.
The remaining sane people note those same powers didn’t consider the predicted results of nuclear war enough to not use their arsenals. No, it took the fracturing of a tectonic plate, swarms of earthquakes, and worldwide devastation to make them hesitate.
The Uluru Islands are doing surprisingly well, all told. The indigenous tribes have adapted well to the sudden loss of the coastal provinces that comprised Australia as the rest of the world knew it.
The risen Rotorua is likely to become habitable soon, too. Should relieve the overcrowding around Wellington nicely.
“Monty, you with us?”
I wasn’t, but am now.
“Yes.”
“Where we goin’?”
“Head towards the big churchy pile, Tone.”
The headless statue on a balcony fades into the evening mist that’s risen while I was daydreaming. I check the image on my phone. We’re looking for an old building, more likely narrow tiles on a collapsed roof. Next door to that is our target.
There!
“Bring us up against the red roof. Give it a thumping, too. See if we can walk on it.”
“We going under?”
“Not likely. Have you seen the water foxes hereabouts? Furry torpedoes the length of my leg. No, we’re staying dry. The roof just makes it easier to unload the place next door.”
After Tone smacks the roof enough times to make us happy, Jonno goes across the angled roof and takes a crowbar to the side of the bay window. It used to give a good view of the street. Now the water laps barely a half-metre below it.
With a dull ‘crack’, the entire south side of the bay comes away from the building, sliding down into the water before toppling forward and sinking.
“That’ll bring a few water foxes to investigate. Let’s get in and get gone.”
Tone hooks the roof, while Emma keeps it steady by alternating running and idling the fan at the stern of the skiff in response to his hand signals.
The centre of the upper floor has fallen, leaving a ring of still, dark water. I’m not a fan of ambush pools, but we’ll have to risk it.
“You watch for ripples. I’ll go to the end and work back.”
Jonno nods, unslinging his repeating crossbow.
The right side is too narrow, but the left is good. I grab the handle of a case and move back. Looks like this upstairs was prepped like the old girl said: her uncle stashed the stock before the evacuation as the sea came in.
The vinyl will be playable even if the sleeves have rotted. Record labels often survive, too. We all hope for favourites, but it really doesn’t matter. Music is always tradeable: the last echoes of a lost world.
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.
by submission | Sep 7, 2023 | Story |
Author: Ian Li
With their sailboat torn apart by the storm, Eric and Matt each clung to half the boat, buffeted by waves until they miraculously crashed onto the rocky shores of an island. Coughing up seawater, Eric stumbled toward Matt and found him unconscious, with deep gashes in his side. Scrambling to find something to stem the bleeding, he unexpectedly encountered a woman.
“Please help him!” Eric pleaded.
The woman jogged over, inspected Matt, and shook her head. She pulled out a small device from her pocket, and a burst of white-hot flame engulfed Matt, leaving no trace.
“You killed Matt!” Eric screamed.
“I put him in pyrogenic stasis.”
“You mean cryogenic stasis?”
“Nope. Cryogenic stasis preserves the body, but the soul and mind disappear. Pyrogenic stasis does the opposite, this device absorbs the soul and memories that the body releases as it’s incinerated.”
“What? Who the hell are you?”
“Allison, lead engineer on Uncharted Island.” Allison’s braids, round face, and squeaky voice made her seem young for the role, but she spoke authoritatively and Eric found himself nodding along as she continued to explain.
Eric suddenly remembered he and Matt had been recklessly sailing through the North Atlantic Ocean. “Hang on, there shouldn’t be any islands anywhere close to this part of the Atlantic.”
“Cloaking technology keeps Uncharted isolated from the rest of the world, so only a few have ever visited, mostly through dumb luck.” She glanced at Eric pointedly. “Though I created an exception for satellite TV, there’s a drama that I’ve been watching…”
“Wow, must be advanced tech to be able to hide from the world. So is Matt in virtual reality then?”
“You’ve been reading too much SciFi,” Allison chuckled. “Let me show you the pyrogenic stasis archives.”
Eric followed Allison around the coast of the island and into a sprawling living compound. “Here are the sleeping quarters, the cafetera, and the gym.” Allison pointed casually as they walked briskly past. “This is the research lab, which is connected to the stasis archives.”
As Matt wandered through the lab, he started wondering why there was a need for an archive and why he hadn’t encountered anyone else on the island. Feeling uneasy, he asked, “So, when can we revive Matt? I’d like to bring him back soon, his wife is already going to kill me for dragging him on this trip.”
“I’m still working on the revival process. The theory is solid, but the results are poor without an existing host body,” Allison explained. “Hey, don’t make that face. I hear cryogenic stasis is the same, just buying time until technology advances sufficiently. Anyway, if we can get my research partner into your body, we can really speed up the search for a solution.”
Eric felt the room lurch beneath him, suddenly aware of his heart beating rapidly. “You’re insane,” he blurted, as he stumbled backwards, knocking over a cart of medical implements and nicking his neck with a scalpel.
Allison sighed. “Another useless one. Guess I’ll just put you in stasis too.” She pulled out the small device from her pocket.
