Face Familiar written by Olga Fyra Gchlo’s cheekbones are humanlike: acute angles under the valleys of attentive black eyes. Nora Keizik never knows what exactly Gchlo’s looking at, it's as hard to tall as trying to count the rotations of a black glossy ball around its axis, and once again she feels that maintaining eye contact is difficult for her. But in moments like this, she reminds herself that it works both ways—Gchlo also sees in her eyes nothing but the colorful reflections of the serpentine lamps and reflexes of lights. It’s because their eyes are the same. “Would you like to see your home once again? See Yeller?” Keizik asks with sadness, that she doesn't have to fake. Asking the homeless about...
One and Many written by Mircea Andronescu Instagram: @andronescumircea The night was slowly setting on by the side of the old mountain. Hundreds of giant, red-leafed trees eagerly sucked in the remaining light through their tiny invisible mouths. Autumn’s cold touch had also brought in a milky white mist that covered the river valley between the mountains. A pack of wolves came out of the red forest and made for the valley. The hunt had brought them to the edge of their turf. They slowed their pace, broke formation and entered the mist covered river bed. A dozen furry sharks, only the hair on their back standing out in this sea of milk. In the far distance, looking like a boat that was...
A Bunch of People written by J. T. M. Sharp Instagram: @jtmsharp To say "this world is alive" is true in at least three different senses. First, I am alive and I am part of this world. Thus, at least some subset of the world is alive. That's the trivial sense that is always true by definition. Second, qualities pervade the world, and with them a kind of primitive consciousness, down to the smallest particle. If you want to call that alive, call it alive. I do, though some people have a problem with it. It's fun to think about--but still, this sense is not the one to which I refer. My keister is currently parked on a small planet in the constellation...
Revelation-9 written by J.G. Bruce The charred and battered skull of a combat tech is placed delicately on my workbench. I am to repair, extract, and report to Central Command by 0900 a week from today. I wonder if this shattered pebble is all that’s left of the Jewel of Mars or if they’re just not willing to give me more than a single piece. Surely, the Mindweavers can’t be the only organization they’ve commissioned to analyze the remains of Zion. Regardless, I must do what I can to reveal why this tragedy occurred. And more importantly, who. Who exactly could benefit from setting our species back nearly a century? It’s hard to imagine that the United People's Republic could do...
The Hoarfrost Eater of Ygrling-3written by J. T. M. Sharp Instagram: @jtmsharp The hoarfrost-eater of Ygrling-3 is well-known to scientists as unique among living species, but a casual observer would be forgiven for overlooking the tiny, inconspicuous insectoid. On cold mornings in the high latitudes, the hoarfrost-eater feasts upon solidified condensation, which adorns every blade of grass and leaf of low-huddled bush on this soggy world. Hence its name, given to it by the first adventurers to explore the lightweight Ygrling-3, an oasis of liquid water, sufficient warmth, and life in a sector otherwise held to be trackless waste. Little did they know how important it would later become to galactic commerce in those heady frontier days! The metabolism...
