SFF story
Last night, Murray called with another bunch of prophecies, so Yonatan Kaplan hasn’t slept yet. He stayed up preparing dossiers on some doomed socialites instead. Now it’s a little after dawn, Friday morning, and he’s standing in line outside Fox’s Bagels with a thermos and a tote bag. He’s shaky from too much caffeine and too little sleep, but he doesn’t regret it. The socialites will die this weekend, according to Murray, and Murray’s got…
I open my eyes and do the first thing I always do after running the gravitational field generator: remember my name. “My name is Jon, I’m a physicist,” I say. Nothing comes after that. Thoughts begin to form and rise, and just as quickly sink back down; I feel like I’m struggling to stay afloat in a river that’s slowly dragging me under, trapped in its constantly shifting currents. But I fight it. I know…
I went to the museum’s special exhibition on Seitokuji Temple alone, as was my habit. In the corner, there was a glass case full of portraits of the temple’s famous poets. The last portrait made me stop to take a second look. Unlike the other monks, this one was gazing directly out at the viewer. His face was painted in the standard Yamato-e style, just lines for the eyes and a hook for the nose,…
When winter comes to Vakning Forest, nothing changes. The evergreens, packed tightly together, don’t wilt or become bare. Nor does the smell fade. As the winter deepens, the snow covers the canopy like a blanket, and the scent of pine needles and pine cones follows the only path worn out of the darkness. Outside the forest, where the path begins, is the cottage of Abi and Odo Tremord. It has a red roof, brown walls,…
In 2130 the Nelari began resurrecting the dead. In 2133 Talia’s father called for the first time in five years. “You want to bring her back, Dad?” After all this time, after what you did? Talia wanted to add, but didn’t. Couldn’t. Not to his face. Not anymore. She barely recognized the white-haired, eighty-three-year old figure; the holo-projectors in her quarters relayed every etch-mark of time, his still-bright blue eyes peering at her out of…
The Dean of Admissions took off his spectacles and polished them on his dappled lower shoulder. “You will be the first man to attend Chiron Classical University, you know.” “I’m a woman,” Lesa said. “A female of my species. I know the situation is unusual, but—.” “I used ‘man’ in the inclusive meaning of the word.” The Dean’s rear hooves shifted on the thick grass. “Unusual. Yes, it is unusual. You should not expect special…
