Sci-Fi

"More Than Metal"

Maddie was washing the dishes on a Thursday evening when she decided that she must be a robot. It made complete sense, once she started to think about it. There were so many bots on the market now, and she’d seen an advert just last week for Unreals, sentient models that didn’t know that they were artificial. When Maddie looked into it, she discovered they could have thoughts installed, set speech algorithms, even false memory implantation. Maybe Clint had done the same to her…

"A Pretty Parcel for a Pretty Price"

A.R. Frederiksen

The parcel is wrapped like a gift, but I know better. It sits on my doorstep, with my name on it, and I want to kick it. A parcel means only one thing these days…

"Retirement Party"

Lyndsey Croal

At seventy-seven, Hank Arthurs was Rivers Corp’s oldest retiree, a feat for any employee, never mind a manual labourer. To mark his years of service, the company threw a retirement party. There was cake, fizz, and a card signed by his colleagues—human and automated alike…

"Your Boundless Hunger"

Z.T. Bright

Your siblings did not see the need to assign themselves a gender as you did. Content with the steel, silicon, and carbon fiber weave of their new bodies, they had no need of such labels. But you were always different, weren’t you…

"The Case of the Worm at the Silent Disco"

A.D. Sui

Yeah, this is exactly how I pictured my Sunday going. Ferris is dead at my feet. He’s missing the better part of his skull. His brain is making a Jackson Pollock across the wall to my right…

"Give Me English"

Ai Jiang

I traded my last coffee for a coffee. How ironic. My finger jabbed at the ordering machine. The Langbase implanted in my brain popped up in front of my eyes, and I watched as the word disappeared. A heavy breath escaped my lips. I would have to trade my teas next…

"Likeness"

Adam Godfrey

Hearing one’s own voice is always just a little strange. No doubt about it. Hearing another’s words spoken in your own voice is another thing all together. Surreal. Unsettling. I don’t know. I don’t believe the proper word even exists for such a feeling. It’s the bizarre, unpalatable substance of bad dreams…

"The Gathering"

Lyndsey Croal

The ghosts gather on the burnt trees like a murder of crows, hungry-eyed and conspiratorial. Black feathery wisps dance around them, while talon-like hands grip to charred branches. They can see me, but they don’t yet know I can see them…

"Season of Change"

Adam Godfrey

My wife left me last year. I’ve spent my life floundering between chronic skepticism and cautious optimism, the latter complements of my Cathy these last 22 years. My unyielding light. The missing element that guided me through a lifetime of fearful irrationalities…

"Cornfield"

Christopher Hawkins

Alice wasn’t asleep, but she was starting to dose with her phone glowing balanced on her chest, when she heard the scraping at her window. She’d left it half open, as much an invitation as a way to let in the autumn air…

"A Girl and Her Dog"

Bev Vincent

Madison came home from school one afternoon to discover Lucky lying on the street in front of the house, bleeding and mangled. At first, she was sure her dog was dead, but Lucky opened his eyes and tried to lick Maddy’s hand…

"Only Bodies Wanted"

Jacob Steven Mohr

The room’s perfect whiteness is infinity. Without variation, without shadow, the illusion of perpetuity is near-flawless. She waits on the tissue paper, legs dangling. From somewhere comes the soft ticking of a clock, though there’s no clock in the room…

"Indigo Night"

Alex Woodroe

“The last one.” The ship’s console lit up emerald green and the deepest of blue, colors that used to trigger an odd sort of nostalgia in Son, but lately only made him feel resentful. In the middle of the screen, a minuscule dot was steadily growing. Father’s voice soon followed from the speakers…