Apex Magazine
1 September, 2118Psyche-88, Syndicate Mining Ltd Life is transactional. Give this, get that. It’s the first law of thermodynamics, nothing personal. No sense getting dust-fucked over it. But you already...
Down the Dust Hatch
1 September, 2118Psyche-88, Syndicate Mining Ltd Life is transactional. Give this, get that. It’s the first law of thermodynamics, nothing personal. No sense getting dust-fucked over it. But you already...
The ocean is a woman and it is dreaming, dreaming, Ekaterina thinks as she holds the hardsuit’s arm open, ready to clip a sample. Twenty-seven meters down and she plods...
At Night She Dreams of Silverfish
The ocean is a woman and it is dreaming, dreaming, Ekaterina thinks as she holds the hardsuit’s arm open, ready to clip a sample. Twenty-seven meters down and she plods...
Three pieces of toast—dark on one side, light on the other. A cup of coffee. Rosh’s preference is Blend 14, with hints of Sub-Saharan Africa and caramel, delivered tepid with...
Those Left Behind
Three pieces of toast—dark on one side, light on the other. A cup of coffee. Rosh’s preference is Blend 14, with hints of Sub-Saharan Africa and caramel, delivered tepid with...
At the viewing window, Elara and I float together, looking out to the long-dead planet. We’ve travelled for weeks to find something like this—not the planet, but its ring, swirling...
A Ring Around
At the viewing window, Elara and I float together, looking out to the long-dead planet. We’ve travelled for weeks to find something like this—not the planet, but its ring, swirling...
The meadow brims with wild roses and honeysuckle. His grip tightens, turning the picnic into murder. He abandons you here, thinking the forest will consume the evidence. We could swallow...
Where the Flowers Bloom So Fair
The meadow brims with wild roses and honeysuckle. His grip tightens, turning the picnic into murder. He abandons you here, thinking the forest will consume the evidence. We could swallow...
I crawl out of the persimmon, and it isn’t pretty. A grown woman unfolding from a fruit that could fit into your hand: sinew restringing itself, organs inflating, nails clawing...
Chị Tấm is Tired of Being Dead
I crawl out of the persimmon, and it isn’t pretty. A grown woman unfolding from a fruit that could fit into your hand: sinew restringing itself, organs inflating, nails clawing...
The rain fell slantwise to beat against the picture window in the front room. In the next room over, Dear was dying. Cleo watched the water run in rivulets down...
Both Hands
The rain fell slantwise to beat against the picture window in the front room. In the next room over, Dear was dying. Cleo watched the water run in rivulets down...