Beautifully written science-fiction
“Valley. Can you still hear me?” Julian’s voice filtered through her dying radio. The Prince of Cats was a speck of light, dimming through the gold-grey film that, atom by atom, was devouring her helmet. Valley tried to say something, anything. Failed. Julian was sobbing on the other end. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so kzzzzzzchchchcffft—” and that was it. Her radio was gone. “Oh god,” she breathed to herself, to no one. “Oh god,” …
Day 1: Gerry woke to his chiming alarm clock, unaware his spaceship, the Rotor, had just exploded. He shuffled into the kitchen and expected his usual routine: frying eggs, watering his bonsai, and being the only person for light-years. But there he was, already holding the frying pan. Gerry rubbed his eyes, wondering if he had actually woken up. “You’re…” he said. “Me?” said his mirror image, staring back with the same bewilderment. They pointed …
“Kate’s back,” says Lucy. I look over and there Kate is, back from the dead yet again, even though there are rules about that sort of thing. No one else has ever come back more than twice. It’s like three strikes and you’re out—you’ve officially become too expensive or too troublesome to revive any more. But Kate’s returned from dying at least half a dozen times. “Again,” says Lucy, rolling her eyes so hard her …
MISSION & HOURS The purpose of the Las Vegas Museum of Space Exploration is to preserve and display extraterrestrial art and material of incredible cultural importance: the Mars Frescoes and Earth’s largest collection of MarsBlood. Monday-Saturday except holidays 10am-5pm (security considerations may change hours) Timed Entry Only; Self-Guided Tours No Longer Permitted Gift shop closed until further notice. GUIDE TO THE MUSEUM Welcome! Rest assured that your safety is our top priority. Thank you for …
Soon, the moment to die will come again. I do not look forward to it, but such is my duty to the revolution. For here, in the worker’s paradise, we all must fight for the future: from the nurse to the soldier to the peasant. But while they all trudge in the darkness of the present, the Futurographer scouts ahead to find the hard reefs of his death and map the future for all others. …
There isn’t much difference between night and day in this city, but we know it must be night when the train comes. It stops in the centre of the city inside its glass tube, the passengers standing shoulder to shoulder with their faces at the window: The Rat, The Flamingo, The Impala, several more, all of them watching us. After an hour or so the train moves on, out through the wall that encircles the …
