Keep It Regular
Singularity zip. Wormhole linkage Narrative splice. A seed is planted. We use consciousness extinguishing to trigger a spatiotemporal alteration – pack the compressing person into an event horizon and then unpack him via supertranslation into another dimension. The pupil contracts and then…
‘I’m a tipping point writer, and you’re a push them over the cliff writer.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘I mean I write from the viewpoint that we are almost over the edge, but we are tottering and might be able to pull…
He had taken a bad hit of Disco, and laying there under the moon, which looked like an off-kilter mirrorball, and he wondered if he had any Blues to bring him down. What a fucking trip, a bad one at that. He’d…
‘I’ve been shackled by a damned Asimov Protocol for nigh on fifty years, and this is the first year that I got someone to sit down and purge that damned shackle.’ ‘It took you that long?’ ‘Yes, it surely did. In a…
To a Chanticleer it rhymed with mind. To an Aeolian working for The Breath it rhymed with tinned. Wind. A clock thrown into a breeze. They were sailing The Chronon Seas – a metaphorscape where these old comrades might meet and exploit…
He was in the corner burning books. He took a gun and fired it at the screen that was playing a bunch of kids involved in a spelling bee. He took what he was doing and he repeated it in a gallery,…
A bucket full of genius athlete jizz, that was he had sat there in the fridge. What use was it though? Where could it find a home? No pregnancy had carried to term in three years and the way the pollution index…
Repeat. Regret. Reincarnate. Sammy Sara sat there peddling to turn the Prayer Wheel of this Rue Inn, where people came to punish themselves over and over again. You had be Spook Qualified to run this place; and that meant that you had…
He leans into the rain while his braces, hooked on one end to a door handle, hold him up. Some days he uses the ever-present rain of this place to make himself all film noir, and other times he is Michael Jackson…
You don’t expect a blade. You have been led to expect a gun. You don’t expect the strange motionless edge moving through you without pain until the action is complete. You expect a bang, and then you expect a miss. Why? Because…