Tag: Science fiction

The Big Empty by Nick Olson

The body didn’t matter anymore, so it wasn’t much. Some meat. Loose skin over hard bone. A splaying of nerves, biological wires that were always ever misfiring anymore, sciatica, numbness, pain throughout the day. The body was dying, and he needed a way out of it.

There was a jackport in the city, couple models to choose from, but no power to get it running again since the collapse. All the tech in the world and nothing to see it back to life. June had always liked this city, so thoughts of her kept him company as he walked the empty streets most nights, dodging sinkholes, collapsed bridges, ancient stalled traffic to get into another store, scavenge parts, look for food for this damned body.

South Atlantic Career Change by Michael Bloor

Really, I did feel bad about neglecting the alien, but I was terribly busy at work that week. I’m a delivery driver and Christmas is our busiest time of the year. And the company cancel your Christmas  bonus if you clock-in late more than once in a month.

So, I’d just stepped out the front door that morning and there s/he (gender indeterminate) was: standing beside the bird feeder – a six foot high Giant Crab, waving her/his front claws rhythmically like giant windscreen wipers.

Scarce as Hen’s Teeth and Pot Luck Noods by Lucy Goldring

Apart from hunger, I have zip in common with Chizzy, but he’s ex-army and knows how to handle himself. It was my idea to pair. Chizzy’s a quiet one, keeps a low proaf. Literals: we’re elb-to-elb in cold grit and he’s silent as a panther. Got the same lean, muscular phys’ too. Mabes he’s stashed some weights some place and works out, sly-style. We have time apart daily so we don’t do each other’s heads in – not so long we morb-out though. There’s zip to be gained from that.  

It’s Audrey on patrol tonight, pacing back-forth on the other side of the fence. She’s ‘resplendent in Halloween green’ through Chizzy’s mil’-grade binoculars.

A Private Musical Interlude Inside a Simulacrum of Paris by David Lawrie

“Oh my god,” said Sarah, staring at the mural. “That’s exactly what I’ve been talking about.”

It was a garish Lautrec-style painting on the side of a house. The woman’s face was devoid of features – a peachy splodge under a black, lacy hat. Her dress, draping the rest of the brickwork as though dressing the house, was the brightest red. It was pulled up around her hips, white bloomers and underskirts everyplace, frills in captured motion. Dodging around the dancer’s feet were spray-paint words in broken English – Live Hard. Sex Long. Dance the Night’s Away.

Imitating Dopamine by Matthew McGuirk

The rush of euphoria is something unmatched. It starts with an almost unnoticeable prick in the back of your head and the comfort just washes over you and the world melts away, you are floating in the clouds. Your body is filled with a sense of relaxation and elation, the worries and worldly things take a back seat. Most pair D2 with what we call augmented reality, it’s a little more expensive, but you get what you pay for. All this came to be just a couple years ago.

I was 25 when D2 came out. I had just gotten my job in sales; Maureen and I had just gotten together at that point and I had beers with the guys on Friday and Saturday nights. That was two years ago and I do remember those times pretty distinctly, but I don’t really miss how it was before I got it put in, before D2. Sales was always a buzz; I work mainly on the phone pushing supplies for a computer company. Really, this was how I got into D2; I was pushing it without really knowing it, so I decided to get the chip, it just made sense. That’s also when Maureen started to waitress at my favorite bar. I remember those tight jeans waiting for the tray of drinks to go out, then the plain white t-shirt she had on that night that pushed her tits right out there and the smile she sent my way was something else. Before we knew much about each other we were out to dinner flashing each other our best smiles and then running back to bed. We could hardly leave bed outside of our dates, couldn’t get enough of each other. The outside opportunity for drinks on Fridays and Saturdays really kept things lively though. Andrew, Alex and I hitting O’Malley’s, throwing back the suds and checking out the ladies, look but don’t touch.

A Perfect Companion by Emily Harrison

From inside the dim recesses of his bedroom, the yellow light of the laptop screen soaking his skin in a sickly glow, he purchased the parts.

They arrived sporadically over a raw-bone winter. Limb by limb. Feature by feature. Ordered via the Dark Web. His hands itched as each delivery piled on his doorstep. Stomach quivered as he sliced open the boxes with the jag of a serrated kitchen knife.

Her skin was crystalline, stomach slim, hips like blown glass. Blueprints pertaining to a pristinely crafted perfection. The only blemish: crimson lips that came as adornments. He’d selected nude on the website. Allowances could be made. A first-time hiccup. The parts had taken a month to arrive and her assembly, carried out in the icy bowels of the basement, was well underway.