“Mr. Thompson, Dr. Wheeler will see you now.” I follow the nurse into the narrow hallway and through the rigmarole of bodily metrics. In the examination room, she asks me to remove my shirt. I comply, blushing, directing my vision… Continue Reading
25 May, 2014: Sir Terry knew that he did not have long. Not as a writer, not as a living human being. He was in no mood to humor the fan who approached him wearing a hooded cloak with a… Continue Reading
Scott stared out of the window, studying the landscape beyond his bedroom. His house was on the outskirts of the city, and from there, he could only see the greenery of the communal park, the shimmering material of their lifedome,… Continue Reading
The waiter nodded and backed away respectfully. Nordique poured herself the last of the wine they had selected. “An exceptional vintage, Ar.” Nordique swirled the wine. “Pressed from the first generation of white grapes grown on Venus. Sure you want… Continue Reading
When their ships landed on the porous soil of Blue-and-a-Rock, the hatchlings rushed out to preserve the petroglyphs. They moved like a flood: overrunning the fields and valleys of the moribund world, clogging up the caves, prodding with claws and… Continue Reading
We zig-zag along a crooked stone bridge towards the tavern. Mist blankets the water, which is riotous with koi, though it’s a clear day elsewhere — a hologrammic projection of the weather from hundreds of years ago. Our daughter, Ruyi,… Continue Reading
The flasks and beakers looked boring now, even though they had fixed most of mankind’s problems. The glassware and cheap centrifuges looked as unremarkable as they did on the day they arrived by mail. Spencer paced in vague celebration among… Continue Reading
Since the most recent late-term miscarriage, I could see Janet falling once again into depression and the twilight world she entered when under stress and uncertainty. And she was frightened, clearly frightened, about what she would learn at the forthcoming… Continue Reading
It’s probably a bad idea to steal a mechano-pteradon, but I’ve been known to have worse ideas. I think. Nabbing Gatlin’s mount probably pays off what he owes me for ten years’ work, though. “Just a reward to be in… Continue Reading
The cars quietly drifted up and down the cables all night long. Talking to each other. Mumbling. Thinking. Hullo. Hullo. Good evening, Totem, sang the red gondola. It was a low, drone song. Good evening, Ewe, sang the blue gondola.… Continue Reading