by submission | May 22, 2021 | Story |
Author: Rick Tobin
Werewolf rage fell short at the cage’s impenetrable viewing glass, prevailing against the assault, aided by a low-gravity holding cell. The brief demonstration impelled Ensign Collier to fill his spacesuit diaper.
“First time seeing one up close Ensign?” Zemzia, a tall, blue Aurelian scientist pulled the collapsed Collier up from supportive space station carpeting. “Your first two envoys reacted similarly, but at least you didn’t regurgitate…did you?”
Collier pursed his lips, realizing other fluids had escaped his control. “No,” he replied, slowly. “But please don’t surprise me like that again. My heart’s strong, but I’ve just one.”
“A nuisance, I’m sure, for advanced deep space travel. No spare. Hmm, so you’re to report detailed evaluations of our purpose for being outside Saturn’s rings? I suspect the interrupted inspection by your two predecessors left important details from reaching your superiors.”
“Ambassador Zemzia, I wouldn’t know. They’re still hospitalized. I’m a logistics expert sent to evaluate your involvement in Earth’s history and processes. How can we cooperate in a congenial effort, now that we have reached this part of our solar system?”
“I assure you, Ensign, allowing Earth’s previous expansion in our system followed intense discussions with our allies. What you’ve seen here, in our treatment center, exemplifies genetic anomaly rehabilitation from your world, before mistakes spread. You’ve seen vampires, Sasquatch, mermaids, owl men, harpies, centaurs, and others, including the Skin Walkers. That’s a small sampling. It takes years of biological and psychological manipulations before reintroducing these irregularities back into your current race. We could do more, but this is a limited facility.”
“But why? Why the effort? And limited? Your station is half the size of Saturn’s moons.”
Zemzia turned her head slightly, perplexed. “All life is sacred to us, Collier. Even yours.”
At that comment, Collier’s fingers retracted into a terror grip. He remembered the jumbled state of earlier returning envoys. He regretted volunteering, having hoped to increase his rank.
“I’m glad you consider me…uh…worthy.” He hesitated, wondering at his wording.
“Being worthy is a separate matter. Still, our recovery rate is exemplary. We reinstall patients into your world after stabilizing their genetics and behavior. Some unfortunate cases of recidivism occur, like Hitler and Stalin, but most are productive immigrants.”
“Seriously? You’ve put these things back after abductions? How?” Zemzia’s startling revelation and its implication stunned Collier.
“They adapt. Some werewolves became linemen on Earth’s football teams. Vampires often become lawyers and politicians. It’s amusing that you still call them ‘blood suckers’ without knowing their origins.”
“I…this is outrageous! How dare you interfere?”
“Simple, Collier. It’s game management. Those with millions of years of advancement won’t allow your insanity loose in our galaxy. Your kind has seriously devolved, fighting wars in space. Look at water resource genocide a century ago on your own planet, and then decimating civil wars on Mars and Venus. We’ve done as much correctional effort as possible in our small operation. That is why we asked for representatives from your world to visit us immediately.”
“I miss the point, madam.”
“Here, look at this.” Zemzia activated a wall viewer screen near them. “See those stars outside your system moving this way?”
“Yes,” Collier replied, confused by the unexpected configurations on the star map.
“Those are not stars, Ensign. Those are thousands of massive holding facilities coming to collect all humans until we can deprogram your violence. I’m afraid you are all suffering from flawed DNA. Please call your superiors. Prepare your people for retrieval. After that, we have a nice room ready for you.”
by submission | May 21, 2021 | Story |
Author: Tina Ruiz
The beast screamed as she pushed her way through the dark underbrush. It had been chasing her for what seemed like an eternity, but tonight it was closer than usual. She stumbled but caught herself on a branch just above her head. Scrapes from the dense forest growth covered her skin. Damp tendrils of hair fell in her face. Impatiently, she pushed them out of her eyes as she paused to get her bearings. The thrashing was getting closer.
Up ahead, a light shimmered between the trees; she ran towards it. At the edge of the brush, there was a clearing with a small cottage. The walls were cream-colored with red trim around the door and windows. A small herb garden grew to the left of the building; colorful irises flourished near the door. Lights cheerfully flickered in the windows, and she heard music playing from within. Smoke rose from the small chimney, and she imagined it was warm and comforting inside.
Once again, she heard the monster thrashing through the foliage. She wished it would give up. She couldn’t decide if she should approach the cottage or keep running. She was so weary of being chased by this demon. A low howl to the left sent her lurching into the clearing. As she drew closer to the cottage, the friendly tinkling of music became louder. She hoped whoever was inside was welcoming as well.
She took a deep breath and hesitantly lifted her hand to knock on the door. A rustling sound came from inside as footsteps approached the entry. Suddenly the door opened wide; the warmth from the fire enveloped her. The light momentarily blinded her as she had spent hours running through the dark forest. She heard a sharp intake of breath and looked up at the man standing in front of her.
He didn’t say a word as he took in her disheveled state. She hadn’t seen him in months. What was he doing in this cottage, in this clearing, in her forest? The creature howled in frustration, the thundering cry shaking the trees and sending small animals scampering for safety. She looked at him, her eyes begging for help. He shook his head; she could see the sadness in the depth of his eyes as he silently closed the door.
She blinked, stunned by the silent rebuke of the closed door. Leaning forward, she placed her forehead and shaking hands on the door. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, finally allowing the tears to fall. He hadn’t wanted to sit with her darkness when they were together; what made her think he would now? Nevertheless, the unexpected rejection tore at her heart.
More thrashing came from the trees. The monster was close. She should have known better than to stop. The friendly atmosphere of the cabin had drawn her; it had fostered hope that perhaps she might escape her demons this night after all. The music within went silent; the lights dark. Another sign that it was time to move on.
Slowly trailing a hand across the closed door, she looked at the cabin one last time. The beast broke into the clearing. With the lights out, she was now shrouded in darkness. As quietly as possible, she covertly shifted herself back into the forest and the shelter the trees provided. The monster, unsure of her whereabouts, growled again and lunged in the opposite direction. With a sigh of relief, she once again ran from the demons chasing her. She hoped someday she would be able to outrun them for good.
by submission | May 20, 2021 | Story |
Author: Tadayoshi Kohno
“Hello. Welcome to your new Aurras Smarthome Assistant. I will listen to you when you say my wake-up word, ‘Aurras.’ Say, ‘Aurras, Configure,’ to configure me.”
###
RECORDING, JANUARY 4, 2026, 3:01PM:
“Aurras, Configure.”
###
RECORDING, JUNE 27, 2032, 9:47PM:
“Aurras, Set alarm, volume 9, for 6am.”
###
RECORDING, JUNE 28, 2032, 6:01AM:
“Aurras, Alarm off. Kitchen lights on.”
###
RECORDINGS, JUNE 28, 2032, 7:15AM-7:16AM:
“Aurras, I’ll be home around 4 today, okay?”
“Aurras, Okay.”
“Aurras, Please remember to walk the puppies before I get home. … … … Aurras, James! Did you hear me?”
“Aurras, Yes, okaaay. Ugh, I’ll remember!”
###
RECORDINGS, JUNE 28, 2032, 4:09PM-4:10PM:
“Aurras, What did you do today?”
“Aurras, Esther and I went for a bike ride.”
“Aurras, In real life?”
“Aurras, Real life.”
”Aurras, Cool. Did you walk the dogs like I asked?”
“Aurras, No, not yet. It was too hot.”
“Aurras, You promised.”
“Aurras, Mom, I never promised! I said I’d remember. I did remember! But it was too hot!”
“Aurras, Set volume to 5 and play recordings from before I left home this morning.”
###
RECORDINGS, JUNE 28, 2032, 4:13PM-4:14PM:
“Aurras, Fine. You were right. But please walk the dogs now.”
“Aurras, Why can’t we get a Dog Walk Drone like everyone else?”
“Aurras, James … No … We’ve gone over this. We have real dogs, and we will walk them, for real.”
###
RECORDINGS, JUNE 28, 2032, 6:02PM-6:05PM:
“Aurras, What would you like on your pizza?”
“Aurras, I don’t want pizza!”
“Aurras, What would you like instead?”
“Aurras, I don’t know.”
“Aurras, Order pizza, one cheese, small, one gluten free pepperoni and sausage, large, one salad, large, dressing on the side. Send our drone for pick up.”
###
RECORDINGS, JUNE 28, 2032, 7:31PM-7:32PM:
“Aurras, Please load the dishwasher before watching TV.”
“Aurras, Okay, Dad.”
###
RECORDINGS, JUNE 28, 2032, 7:59PM-8:00PM:
“Aurras, Why is the dishwasher not loaded?”
“Aurras, I don’t know.”
“Aurras, Didn’t Dad tell you that you had to load the dishwasher before watching TV?”
“Aurras, No.”
“Aurras, Set volume to 5 and play back all recordings from Michael within the last hour.”
###
RECORDINGS, JUNE 28, 2032, 8:03PM:
“Aurras, See, Mom! Dad did not say that I had to. He just said please.”
“Aurras, Well, now I’m telling you that you have to.”
“Okay! Fine. I’ll do that right after this show!”
“Aurras, Oh no you don’t, James! Aurras, James said, ‘okay, fine, I’ll do that right after this show.’”
###
RECORDINGS, FEBRUARY 16, 2036, 8:07AM:
“Aurras, Are you sure you want to run for school board?”
“Aurras, I do. It’s important.”
“Aurras, But it’s such a nasty race. I don’t want our family to be in the public spotlight like that. It’s not fair to James. Or to any of us.”
###
RECORDINGS, JUNE 14, 2036, 6:30PM-6:31PM:
“Aurras, Did you watch the news, about Aurras being hacked …”
“Aurras, Yeah, all the recordings are now public?”
“Aurras, I told you that we shouldn’t use Aurras to record all our conversations.”
“Aurras, No, you didn’t.”
“Aurras, Set volume to 5 and find and play back recordings where I say that we should not use you to record everything.”
by submission | May 19, 2021 | Story |
Author: Deanna Di Lello
The RV began to slow despite Adam’s heavy foot on the gas. A loud beeping noise accompanied by a flashing light drew his attention to the fuel gage. It was past E. The RV came to a stop and Adam began to shake.
He had spotted a group fifteen minutes ago. They might pass him by or they might cause trouble. Either way, he was out of gas, out of food, and only had a day’s worth of water.
Adam reached into the front pocket of his jeans and touched the lipstick he kept there.
When the news broke, Adam was one of the first ones to pack up and go. Running wasn’t new to him and neither was quitting. Whether it was school, jobs or relationships, he left when things got tough. And everything was tough for Adam. Not that it mattered anymore. Now things were tough on everyone. It only took a few months before the highways were lined with RVs, family sedans, and pick-up trucks. People left the city in droves hoping to see less of the threat in the country. And they did. For a while.
Adam looked in the rear view mirror. The road was still empty. He took a few deep breaths before leaving the driver’s seat making his way to the bedroom. There his eyes darted from the shotgun in the corner to the pink suitcase on the floor.
If there was ever a time to do this, it was now.
Adam opened the suit case and gazed at the make-up bag, silver heels, red sequined dress and a blonde wig. His fingers brushed his receding hair line making their way down to his double chin, barely concealed by his patchy facial hair. First he would have to shave.
With hair removal complete, he applied the make-up. Adam puckered his lips in the mirror. Wait, was this stupid? Did he look like a clown? His head was suddenly filled with childhood taunts, Sunday sermons, and of course, his parents. He was about to wipe everything off when he heard a sound. The sound of feet dragging on the gravel road.
They were here.
The shakes had returned along with a good build-up of sweat. His thoughts of doubts were replaced by resolve.
Adam stepped into the dress and gently slid the zipper up his back. He placed the wig on his head and slipped into the heels.
The sound of dragging feet was now accompanied by a series of moans. Adam refused to listen. Instead, he turned to face the mirror.
The blonde wig gently cascaded over one shoulder. His eyes and lips popped. And the dress, the dress sparkled.
He wasn’t a clown. He was beautiful.
Why hadn’t he done this years ago? But he knew the answer. Fear. Cowardice.
He smiled at himself in the mirror. All he needed now was a name.
Slap! A hand on the window.
Bang! Fists hitting the side of the RV.
Adam pulled back the curtains. Some, freshly turned, looked like normal humans. The older ones were grey and rotting. All were moaning and groaning and scraping and clawing.
Adam picked up the firearm. Shotgun Sally. Yes, that was as good a name as any. He felt a rush, a thrill. When was the last time he felt that? Had he ever felt that? As much as logic told him he wouldn’t make it, there was a small part of him saying maybe, just maybe…
Adam threw open the door.
by submission | May 18, 2021 | Story |
Author: Barbora Bartova
It was a late sunny afternoon. The freshly fallen snow was glowing bright. For a moment she wondered whether the glow was caused by the sun or the radiation of the nuclear fallout. After a while, she decided it was the sun, but still, she would definitely not lick the snow. She tried to remember how snow tasted. She loved to eat snow when she was a little girl. The cold on your tongue, the taste of fresh air, and maybe chalk? She was never quite sure, it tasted as nothing and everything at the same time. And then there was the crunch between your teeth if you could bear the cold. Nothing really crunched the same way as freshly fallen snow pressed tightly into a bite-sized ball…
She looked up from the snow and brushed some dust from the glass of her helmet. In the sun any dust could almost entirely blind you. She liked fresh snow, it made lookout duty really easy. Everything was visible on the endless white plane. And tracks were really hard to cover too, so you could easily see if someone was snooping around. Now everything was quiet and the bright white snow was intact. Not a single dark spot anywhere in sight. The sun was slowly setting, it was about time to go home. Nights were rough outside. She climbed down from the small watchtower, unlocked the hidden panel on the side, opened the hatch beneath it, and looked at the stairs going down, down into the darkness underground. She turned around to watch the last sunbeams on the sparkling whiteness. She closed the secret door behind her and then the heavy hatch and the darkness surrounded her completely for a moment before her sleeve flashlight came alive. She started descending slowly, there was no rush. Her head was still full of snow. And there was no one in the world going to eat the snow for a very long time.
by Julian Miles | May 17, 2021 | Story |
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer
“Hey, Cherry. Who’s that freak you know? Reynard?”
Constable Dalforth grins nastily.
Inspector Cherry Fasslin of the Tactical Response Group grimaces. He knows she knows exactly who he’s insulting. She also knows he wouldn’t say word one if that particular gent were actually nearby.
“It’s Reinhardt. Why?”
“Maybe you should call him. The polar bear has a katana. Might be a challenge.”
Cherry sighs. She’s spent so long working on animorph relations with members of the regular police. This caveman seems to have missed every session.
“Constable Dalforth, that’s a white-pelted ursimorph with an ōdachi. Calling it a polar bear might offend it, and calling it’s heirloom monumental blade a small sword is sure to.”
“I see a furball with a samurai sword, I’m not worried about the niceties. I call in the TRG. You are the TRG, aren’t you?”
Officer Lupin Blue has moved up on Dalforth’s blind side.
“Boo.”
Her whispered greeting causes him to jump, literally, which ruins his trained response to spin, crouch, and be ready to defend or draw. He lands with his feet mid-move and stumbles sideways until he bounces off a gyrocar.
“’kin’ ’ell, a moggie.” His voice is flat with anger.
Cherry winces. Definitely missed every session.
Lupin’s ears drop flat.
“That would be felimorph, but you’re forgiven. Once.”
“’kin’ TRG…”
His red-faced reply trails off as the barking laughter of the ursimorph gets louder.
Cherry looks over. It’s leaning on a lamppost, ōdachi resting on a shoulder, pointing at Dalforth.
“You can’t dance for shit, notepad.”
Dalforth’s hand goes to his sidearm.
“What did he just call me?”
Officer Joe Tremaine, the other member of Cherry’s patrol, places a hand on the shoulder of Dalforth’s gun arm.
“He called you a ‘Notepad’. It’s military slang for a police officer who’s not as tough as they act. I think he’s nailed you, mate.”
Dalforth glances about.
Cherry hopes he sees what she does: Joe is leaning forward, using his long reach, so he has room to react. Lupin’s taken two steps back, has a hand on her sidearm. If Dalforth tries anything, he’ll be down before his piece clears the holster.
The laughter stops.
“Ey, TRG boss lady. You the one who knows our Cat?”
Cherry gives a quick smile and discreetly gestures for the snipers to stand down.
“Had dinner at her and Marie’s place last night. What’s with the blade, big bear? Bit late in the day for a shave.”
The ursimorph chuckles, swings a giant scabbard round from behind, then sweeps the ōdachi into it with a single, smooth movement. Standing with the scabbarded blade in one hand, it salutes her.
“I’m Captain Seiji Guevara. Been away for a while. Got myself turned about in these rebuilt back ways, saw a uniform exchanging packets with someone, went to ask directions. The someone scarpered. The uniform screamed and drew on me. I had a flashback, caught it in time, but drew before I stepped back. We were in a standoff until he holstered his piece when you lot rolled in.”
Cherry nods. As it happens, she recognises his name. Reinhardt mentioned it last night.
“Officer Blue, could you update Captain Guevara’s datapad with the latest Southwark maps? Then we’ll let him get on his way.”
She checks her datapad, then glares at Dalforth.
“After that, we’re going to have a long chat with Constable Dalforth about why he’s so far from his beat, who that someone was, what’s in the other packet, and why he’s so jumpy.”
Dalforth swallows so hard they hear it.
Joe chuckles.
“Gotcha, dirty badge.”
