Category: Prose

He was the first poet in space. He had to train for the mission as hard as any of the astronauts, and they had told him what kind of thing that they wanted him to write. He wondered if they had noticed…

The Shakespeare Monkeys were famous, they were a very early reality engine — one that someone jokingly quantum entangled with the mind of an up and coming populist politician. They were a long way away from producing anything like Shakespeare, but the…

New Year as a pivot — trap for TEA and Reality Engineers. Seems like a memetic spatiotemporal embed. a notional shunt to force people to hinge ontologically through one journey and into another. You could say that the room chills as he…

He never names names, and he makes up locations, and he says that what he has maintained is the kernel of truth. He is a fiction writer. You speak to him and you wonder, especially if he glazes over and tunes you…

Intermediary connectors were legaly required for any kind of pre-legal contract relationship. If you weren’t using a biofilter connector when you were engaged in genital connection then you legally had no leg to stand on. For women the devices helped to prevent…

Chowing down on a novel. There were words all over his lips. which he wiped with the back of his hand, and saw some Joycean gobbledegook there. Last week it had been Basho haikus and he had almost starved. He survived the…

He never needed ghosts to haunt him. He had murder scene pictures. He had cold cases. There were enough real things in the world to provide horror so that all those stupid otherwordly things that made everyone else jump didn’t even get…

Kafka morning, Samsa Hook, with only slight feel of Josef K. He crawls across the floor. Looks in the Mere-Ur and speed dials Leftover Pizza who will swoop in and drop off someone’s second hand pizza for him. It tastes better that…

He ate the face in a light brine. There was something weirdly sexy about supermodel face soup. If you were selling this kind of thing you had to be OK with old guys like him getting the occassional boner in public. Wasn’t…

The cats on the keyboard. There’s a Wherewolf moving through the timezone, sporting temporal eddy redirect fins. An alert goes out to intermediary Owls to come and control the space. Something buckles in the spatiotemporal anchors and a whole bunch of people…