"Thanks for coming on such short notice." Sascha waved the nicety away. "Tell me who I'm looking at." The live security feed showed a lanky young man in the next room—mid-twenties—with disheveled black hair that pointed in every direction in a fashionable imitation of bed-head. His lumpy face was the color of a ripe plum.… Continue reading Self-preservation at the Chop Shop
Tag: Prison
Loose Ends
Abe stood on the highest ledge atop the butte and regarded the exposed rock layers across the canyon. It had been a long time since he'd really stopped to look at them. A long time. A lot had happened. If you'd never been to 42 Orions B—no one could agree on a suitable permanent name,… Continue reading Loose Ends
Idle Hands
It didn't have a name. People sometimes called it the Barrens, but most preferred not to talk about it at all. Penal colonies have little overlap with polite conversation. Unfortunately for Myla, those sorts of unwritten social codes no longer applied to her. She took the first step out of the drop-pod and onto the… Continue reading Idle Hands
Confinement
Grayson was thankful to be home. For the soft clothes, and the fresh warm air, and the alcohol's affect on his brain. He was thankful for all the things he didn't smell. Before the meal was over, his family would make a toast in his honor and then point their eyes at him like the… Continue reading Confinement
The Truth About Exile
Officially it was called Humanis Beta, but everyone just called it Beta. They pronounced it Bait-uh, like the Americans used to say it. Ah, to have been an American, Apurna thought; a people liberated by the notion that the future was a thing already dead and buried. Apurna was still trapped in the here and now like it was flypaper.… Continue reading The Truth About Exile
The Reckoning
She had a black hole for a heart, or at least that was the rumor. When you go around calling yourself The Reckoning, rumors like that are bound to follow like famine follows a locus swarm. In truth, she had no heart at all, just a pump. And a backup. There was no black hole,… Continue reading The Reckoning
Wired
There was a portrait on the wall, and for some reason Kilbourn couldn't take her eyes off it. It was black ink on canvas that had grown sickly yellow-green long ago. She couldn't decide if the face was a man's or a woman's. Every time she thought she'd made up her mind those eyes seemed… Continue reading Wired
Milo Meets the Civilgorithm
On the day before my 15th birthday, it occurred to my father that perhaps I was not ready. "Milo," he asked, "what will you tell the civilgorithm tomorrow? How could you best serve your life?" "I don't know," I said. He scolded me harshly, planting little seeds in my arms and back with his fists… Continue reading Milo Meets the Civilgorithm
Guilt in the Age of Indifference
Py-S'tem Station grew closer like a giant squid at sunset, backlit by the crimson gases of the nebula, its bulbous head surrounded by long tentacles of docking runways. They were about to be swallowed up. Not Tul, but his passengers, of course. He'd been working the prison transport route from the Alcona system to Py-S'tem… Continue reading Guilt in the Age of Indifference
Warmup Pages 