Even though they are damaged and limping along, he finds a way to make it to the wormhole and escape. But when he comes out on the other side, the ship is in need of desperate repairs. They have to stop to fix it, and may not have enough supplies for all aboard. We start in with action. The crew interact under stress and personalities shine.
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I like the daring and determined action, but in being this there are deadly consequences too. It's a story that kept me reading. It seems there could be someone on the ship killing people, so they can survive longer Webbed Prisms by Charlie Pulsipher T'en has powers he shouldn't with being of a slave stature. But he sees the ripples of the Nexus from his world, and watches it nightly. After 19 years of applications at Omniscient, AJ's dream of working with wormholes comes true. His synthetic arm making the job a bit easier as he's already wired to the interface of Omniscient's technology. Kendra works with AJ and create a strong bond together.
This is a bit different in how AJ is able to travel into space. It's interesting. And he has a bit of a different way in which he works "with" the wormhole, like going through it. This is a blend of computer science fiction tech and wormholes. We get this story from two sides of the wormhole, AJ and T'en. We see where AJ and Kendra are coming from and where they are going.
Anathema by Jacob Cooper A supply run through the wormhole. Through the wormhole, to the station, then home. However when they come through there is debris everywhere and hitting their ship. This story has many elements to it. We have haulers coming through behind Everson's ship that need protected from the floating debris. Then we get a signal that they need to investigate. Possible survivors? But we also have some elements that feel supernatural in a sense, though it's done by technology. One example is the elemental, he's of science fiction creation but has a paranormal feel to him.
Even the Captains "knowing". The characters all feel like a crew. They have their connections and dislikes in each other but keep working. It all works together to create the environment. This story works the story and characters to the end. I enjoyed it. There are hints to the world and characters, but I found it harder to keep it all in line and pieced together. Others might like this, but the style didn't work for me. I just couldn't visualize what Seneschal Smith went through. I passed onto the next story. Personal Growth by Stephen Moss The wormhole was thought to be normal.
The crew was thought by citizens to never return, like others in different wormholes. This one turns out special, it grows in size as they near it, but now they can't turn around. They will find the works of the wormholes on the other side. This is the longest story in the book. This is different. I like it but sometimes I struggled understanding the world or way of things to adapt to space needs.
Once we get through the wormhole though, things iron out and I understood clearly what's happening. I enjoyed the ending of this one. It might be a one way trip, but seems worth it. Sep 19, Shawn Dvorak rated it really liked it. A collection of stories related to the appearance of wormholes in our solar system, what mankind finds through them, and how they respond to what they discover. A neat idea, to bring together very different tales all nominally about the same thing, including a few that were set in the same universe.
Like most collections, for me, there were some winners and some not-so-winners, but overall an enjoyable read. Aug 01, Felipe Macia rated it it was amazing. Excellent collection of themed short stories. I've been running out of my favorite authors' books and was introduced to this series as one of them was featured.
Not only were these fun and fast reads, but they have introduced me to a slew of new authors I did not know previously that I can dig in to now. For anyone looking for fun reads, and for new authors, this is an awesome and safe way to get introduced. Aug 20, Alessa Adamo rated it it was ok. Not a fan of short stories I haven't read a book of short stories in years, simply because I don't find them compelling. I thought I'd give this book a try, and I have not changed.
I simply don't like this format. If you like short stories, this will appeal to you. This is simply another case of 'it's not you, it's me. Jan 03, Mark rated it it was amazing. What a great collection. In the spirit of The Martian Chronicles, you get several stories on the theme of traveling through wormholes. Each author brings their style and perspective.
No story is a bad read. Every one is an adventure.
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Oct 12, Nickson Mungujakisa rated it really liked it. It's a good book, I highly recommend it for people who don't normally venture far from the genres they like most. If some of the short stories in this collection where full novels and I checked out their blurbs, I probably wouldn't have read them.
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I am glad I read them here. Sep 08, Jason rated it really liked it Shelves: science-fiction. I really liked the concept of a series of short stories around a central theme. It worked really well. I enjoyed almost all of the stories. This is money well spent. Loads of great authors. A few that I had never read, so they are now on my to-read list. Jul 12, Simon Ford rated it liked it. As with many collected stories you get the good the bad and the mediocre almost used ugly.
Some crackers and a few damp squibs. Still a good collection overall and worth the time taken to read it. Jun 21, Dan Dobler rated it it was amazing. Some really great stories! It's been a while since I read so many diverse yet connected short stories. This a very clever collection of very well written and thought out stories that I recommend.
Aug 13, Phil Ellenberger rated it it was ok. Not classic I grew up with Asimov Heinlein, Clarke and others of the same level. This anthology has some that approach that skill and some that don't. It might be me and it might be the times. But it's not sifis hayday. May 02, Brian rated it liked it. I love the theme of this book, but honestly found myself not captivated by all the stories. Aug 06, Bill rated it it was amazing.
Jul 22, J. Par for the course with anthologies. Narration was well done. Sep 02, Doram Jacoby rated it really liked it. I saw this book on offer and have decided to give it a go. While some stories fall short and a few are terrible, most stories are good and some are fantastic. I would recommend giving this a go as you may discover some new voices. Jul 16, Cat rated it it was amazing. Future Societies Nanotech Other Worlds Space Travel Superhero Time Travel Virtual Reality Science Fiction Fairy Tales Parapsychology High Fantasy Medieval Monsters Religious Modern Fantasy Fantasy Slipstream Magic Realism Alternative History Humor The Alphabet Quartet The Numbers Quartet Twisted Fairy Tales Postmark Andromeda 9.
The Future of Future Planning 6. Dear Jezzy Tasting Menu 5. Tales of the Rose Knights Careers for Magical Creatures Captain Percina Saunders Clickbait for Paranormals 7. Alien Salvage 5. From Diaspora to New Jupiter 6. Childhood at Crossroad Station 6. Cara Watt, P.
Maradia's Robot 6. This includes the genres of science fiction or sci-fi , fantasy, slipstream, alternative history, and even stories with lighter speculative elements. We hope you enjoy the broad range that SF has to offer. Science Fiction Science Fiction Science fiction, even as a subgenre is a vast, underexplored country filled with unusual denizens, many of whom simply defy classification. Long way of saying this is the catch-all category for any stories that don't fit into our topic listings above.
If too many of these selections start to form a natural cluster, we will allow a new topic to be born. Until that time, enjoy the varied, murky melange that defines the undefined herein. What exactly are the Zala? Clearly, they're intelligent. They look like craggy, grey, four-armed, walking trees, each of which has a nest of hive-insect-like creatures buried in the distended front of their abdomens.
The "insect" creatures scurry up and down the craggy bodies, mending injuries and, I've been warned, spraying jets of acid at the slightest hint of a threat. So are these beings a species, or the hybrid result of a symbiotic system? Did the insect creatures play a role in facilitating the Zala's development or evolution as a highly intelligent civilization?
The gap between Ted's front teeth opened onto a solar system buzzing with civilizations of light and power. Ted found that trying to laugh behind his hand was awkward. Trying to tilt his head down while he spoke was awkward. He'd lost dates to awkwardness and to the bushy mustache he had used to curtain his upper teeth for a few weeks in June. Time Zone. I had just gotten home from work, ready to start dinner for myself, when the phone rang. It wasn't even yet, but the dinner hour is exactly when phone solicitors like to prey on customers.
I answered with a "Hello" that was more like a sigh. Are you all right? We're so worried! A study in flesh and mind.
Work permits are few and she needs to send half her ration to family up in the burning lands round Newcastle way. She has excellent references, but that doesn't count for much; the proof will be in her flesh, her stamina, her strength of will. She removes her clothes in a dark change room.
Someone has let a can of drink fall on its side and sticky Cack congeals on the bench--a waste of good, if foul tasting, nutrient. She removes her clothes, top half first: a soft crochet hat, elbow high fingerless gloves and three layers--soft hemp undershirt, polyurethane mid layer, thick wool shell. The whole lot pulled up and over her head in a single gesture, an easy, familiar motion. She folds them neatly and places them in her bag. She pulls off her shoes, lines them up on the scratched linoleum, then removes the bottom half: poly-leggings under button-fly goat leather, hemp underwear, wool socks, removed in a similar single gesture.
Folds the pants in on themselves and places them in her bag. She stretches one arm, then the other, shakes her legs and thinks through possible poses and energy she will bring to the class. She lives to do her job well--she loves to see how artists develop and grow and make classes come to life with potentia. Curse of the Octopodes. The Heresy of Friar Travolo. Dearest Elizabeth, forgive me. The light is dim, and my hand trembles. The enemies of God have me under guard, but there is a maid who pities me. She brought me these instruments, and I pray she will take my letter to you when I have finished.
You have heard many monstrous things about me. None of them are true. I will tell you the truth, from the beginning, though the story will be long. Please, believe me. Pauli Neutrino Telescope, Antarctica, Particle-noir winds from Sattigarius blow through the superconductor array frozen deep under the Ross Ice Shelf, howling like ghosts in the machine. Answer Man. The small grey man walked into Ben Murphy's office and stared at him with enormous black eyes.
Ben had seen a lot during his fifteen years as Sheriff of Chaves County, but nothing like this naked, spindly-limbed, huge-headed critter. For that matter, he couldn't rightly say whether the thing was a man or not, despite the lack of pants. Still, Ben knew the value of remaining calm and helpful, whatever the situation. Past Tense. Twenty-two years from now, on a bright day in a dim room, your husband will utter his last words. He will tell you he is sorry for the time he squandered chasing fruitless theories, time made precious to him now by the power of hindsight.
The two of you will spend the nine years prior to his end on a new beginning, one free of his long nights tinkering in the lab and obsessing over notes. He will be yours for the duration of long walks through blossoming gardens, sunny days that do not cloud over save for those rare moments where he will stare unfocused, his poor, brilliant mind a million miles away as it tries to discover where his science failed.
Don't Look Down. My body remembers what I cannot. My hands move to the sides, legs move apart, knees bend. Quantum Mechanics. Swear to God, that's what the sign said: Quantum Mechanics. A faded, peeling sign on a rickety garage on a weed-choked lot. I looked out the window from the little Mexican taqueria across the street, and it still said: "Quantum Mechanics. Queen of Hearts, Servant of Spades. Her date lifts their hand from where it covers hers on the tablecloth between them, stares at it briefly. No one ever noticed my hands before. Nobody ever asked me the secret to survival.
You didn't ask either, but I'll tell you anyway. It's cowardice, O-hana, so that's how we'll survive. You and I and all the others in our cave--with a million tiny acts of cowardice. Time Monkeys and the Fullness of Glasses. Hachi Station was jumping for a Restday Eve. Marina had enough of the crowd and headed for the door when a man showed up in an illegal purple haze, leaving Marina in a coughing fit for inhaling the dust.
Someone needed to set him straight, and since most of the patrons were hybrids with gill flaps over their intakes and submerged in the various hot pools, none of them were going to bother. It was bad enough she was a landwalker in a bar full of hybrids, she also happened to be a veteran auditor and compulsive rule upholder.
She really should have stayed in tonight. Cara's Heartsong. After the bombs rained like fire and the riots faded, my daughter and I found ourselves alone in her room, our home surrounded by silence so deep it gouged my soul. The grandfather clock downstairs chimed once an hour, and rattled too, the cracked glass panel vibrating with the chimes. In the silence between chimes, Cara's heart beat too quietly, too slow, and out of sync. Cara squeezed my arm, her breath labored and her face pale, like the ghost she was in danger of becoming. Fake Geek Girl.
She doesn't know you can't have both a rebel starfighter and a colonial interceptor dogfight in the same tattoo. The pair of ships that streak up the outside of her left calf and all the way around to the inside of her thigh is a travesty, though you have to admit it's dead sexy. Like her green skin, it got your attention. The Classifieds. This male specimen is a bargain! Owner threatened with foreclosure.
Male, 33 years, fully intact, I. Height, 5' Weight, Lb, 34" waist and 44" chest, with toned and developed skeletal muscle. Has minor kidney issue. Tele calls only, please--no electronic solicitations. The Cytherean War 1: Fission Glitter. The Cytherean War 2: Cytherea Breathes. The Cytherean War 3: Dots of Red.
The Cytherean War 4: Cytherea at Night. First Blink. Unlike sex, you're probably going to enjoy the first part of this transmission more than the very end. I know you'll remember that when you find out what sex is. For now, I just meant to hook your attention. If you're opening your eyes, it means I have been killed. Company policy states that the exact nature of my death cannot be downloaded from my Circuito Mater. This is done to prevent biases in how future agents conduct their duty. You don't know it yet, but you won't want to die. He can't be more than fourteen.
Couldn't have been, my mind corrects. Now he's dead in the sunburned street, a sticky sweet puddle of blood growing larger with every second. Gone Now. We reach town limits. Through a purpled, misshapen stand of elm, a sign pokes up, crinkled and black at the edges: Thompson's Creek. Pop 3, It's gone now. Measures and Countermeasures. Flint's Folly. He cleared his throat, a thunderclap in the silence.
To those watching from all over our planet, I hope humanity can share this moment.
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That is why, instead of publishing in a journal where only a fraction will read and understand this breakthrough, I have chosen this unusual method of communicating a scientific discovery. Wings for Icarus. I remember the day my father died. I imagined I could see him smiling down at me, as he soared high above. For a brief moment he had flown, just as he'd said he would--like Daedalus on wings of silver. Then suddenly it had all ended and he'd gone falling to earth, plummeting and spinning like a broken bird.
I'd watched it all because as my mother screamed, she'd forgotten to shield my eyes.
Daddy was a tinkerer, that's what mother used to call him. He was a welder by trade, and I remembered him coming home in the afternoons, dungaree overalls and jacket smelling of sweat and soot. But in his spare time he did love to tinker, to talk about machines and the way things worked. I was amazed at how he could take things apart and then rebuild them--knowing where every cog, washer, and screw went back with ease.
He could talk about Jules Vernes and da Vinci for hours. And he made sure I knew about Elijah McCoy, the black inventor whose picture he kept in his garage. That was where Daddy made his inventions, odd contraptions he'd fashioned out of old appliances and parts he'd scoured from junk heaps. Most of them didn't work. A few sputtered and died or even blew up right in front of us. But that never stopped him. He kept going through his few successes and many failures.
They wake up in their beds and realize they dreamed it all. Coin Flips. Most people wouldn't decide to ship out to the colonies on a coin flip, but we're not most people, right babe?
by George Orwell
When they said you wouldn't come out of the coma I had the medical team transmute your consciousness into a gold coin. The head is your lovely face; the "tail" on the back is a double helix segment of your DNA. You're in my pocket forever, my lucky piece. You know how we used to fight--no, not really fight Well now it's all you. I flip the coin, you decide what we do. You are still in there, aren't you? I'll upload my consciousness to the shipboard computer, and put my body in stasis. Your coin will remain safely in my pocket, keeping my body company for a trip that will take decades for you but only an instant for my uploaded mind.
You know me so well, babe. You know I desperately want to see the colony itself, and not languish for decades on a stinking colony ship, only to die en route or arrive too old to enjoy our new life. I hear it's like the Wild West out there. Cash for the taking, if a man is bold enough to stake it. I hear you saying reckless, but you're wrong. Not reckless. Collision with Car. Really, Harry shouldn't have been surprised.
It was one of the most common death predictions. Still, they said no matter what your verdict, it was hard, seeing it in print. So yeah, it bothered him when the machine spit out his: a little slip of paper, like you'd find in a fortune cookie, with three words: Collision with car. Oh, it certainly could have been worse. It could have been something slow and lingering, like AIDS he hadn't exactly been careful , or tawdry like Beaten to death by ex-wife. That wouldn't have surprised him either--she blamed him for everything.
He was a handsome guy. He was supposed to resist every woman that threw herself at him? They came to a stop. Bismuth helped him out of the car. His leg sent him a spike of pain as he stepped onto the grass. They walked through the crowd toward the white door, the people parting to let him through. Cobalt saw his classmates and friends; some smiled and nodded at him, some looked away whispering.
All looked nervous. They reached the door and Bismuth opened it. I was 13 years old when the wormholes started appearing in front of the faithful. At the time nobody knew what was causing them wormholes to appear, or where they led to. Most scientists were at a loss as to how to explain how spontaneous rips in space and time would appear in front of specific people and wait patiently for them to step beyond the breach. Some people were convinced by the scientists to let them test their wormholes, but inevitably the wormhole would collapse the moment someone other than their recipient approached.
Hours later the wormhole would return, again prepared for its chosen passenger. Even attempts to have the wormhole's designated person run tests would fail, as though the wormholes knew what was going on. The In Between Place. John and I bought Katie a domino run for her eighth birthday.
She and I spent all morning setting it up, lines of colored tiles all around the house. When it was done we held hands and tapped the first one, and watched as they began to topple. Rules for Quantum Speed Dating. Here at Qupid Enterprises, we want all of our clients to get the most out of their Quantum Speed Dating experience. Below are some helpful tips and tricks to get you started. Infinity Minus One. Mirror, Mirror. The two-year-old in the corner clutches her collection of candy wrappers and odd papers to herself as if they were dragon's horde.
The stripped vault I've closed us in--me and twenty-seven children--shudders once, twice, and the already dim lighting wanes; the two-year-old looks briefly up toward the lights set around the edges of the metal ceiling, but is far more interested in the crinkling sound of her treasures. We've been in the vault too long. The sealed room smells of a day's worth of urine and worse. Resilient, adaptable, none of the children cry out at this latest attack. The wispy hair that frames the two-year-old's face seems to glow even in the low light, and I find myself wondering if all two-year-olds look as cherubic.
Not that I really care. It was not the first time. Pitches'll sack me if I'm late again. They protected his hands and helped him grip the sharp edges of the metal drums he spent his days fashioning into walls and roofs. It had been a great find. As well as the palm guards he had been able to put new soles on their sandals and make Maddy pads for her shins and elbows. She was always picking up scrapes and bruises gleaning with the other scavs who were too young or too old for other work. The Farewell. She dashed into the station, elbowing through the press of travelers that choked the main concourse.
A glance at the departure display told her his transport would embark in another minute. Her heart thundered in her chest as she raced to the platform. He never liked to board until the last moment. He might still be there. She'd been a fool to let him go yesterday, but she'd been afraid. Not anymore. The certainty she'd never see him again had clinched the decision in her heart. She couldn't let him leave like this. She'd never forgive herself. Someone Is Wrong on the Internet! I was in the middle of a scathing response when there was a knock at the door.
I kept typing but the knocking turned into pounding. I typed faster and hit enter. I heard a muffled ding Killer Pot. She had always been somewhat pale in complexion. But now, as she stood before me in moonlight outside my front door, she seemed positively without color at all.
I do not mean her lips, of course. Drusilla's lips have always been a deep, blood red. Some say she does not even need to use lipstick. And her hair, dark chestnut, which some say she dyes, reflects as well as much a notion of violence and death as it does of healthy life. A Stitch in Space-time. Fina kept her aim steady.
This would be the eighth time she'd watched Neil die--his face contorting in agony under the blue-white haze of the Abbey's limelight. The tight zoom of her camera caught every detail, including the wrinkles in the fabric backdrop bearing meticulously painted palm trees, the tufts of batting peaking from sloppy seams on the prop horses, and even the tremble of her husband's hands as theatrical blood dripped from the wound in his abdomen.
Neil's death scene wasn't supposed to go on for this long. Fina tensed as the unnerving sound of seams ripping whispered all around her. In this gripping first volume of the followup series, his protagonist, former Mars miner Darrow, discovers how much harder it is to build a better world. An Easy Death , by Charlaine Harris The creator of Sookie Stackhose begins a new adventure set in the weird west of an America changed by the assassination of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and starring gun for hire Lizbeth Rose, who reluctantly takes on two wizards as clients and sees her world turned upside down.
Meet another kick-ass woman with a wild, western tale to tell. Pulling off his latest job—transporting warships through a wormhole—will take every skill he possesses, and the help of a crew of other augmented humans. This blood-spattered middle volume of the Book of the Ancestor trilogy features intriguing politics amid the scenes of sudden violence, and is populated by a host of fascinating, deadly women. Martin George R. Watching Powers turn his prodigious research skills toward such a monumentally American system in addition to the Daedalus myth, for funsies is an absolute pleasure.
Summerland , by Hannu Rajaniemi The author of The Quantum Thief crafts a confounding alt-history set in a world where access to the afterlife has made post-mortem spycraft a key espionage tool in a much-changed pre-World War II Europe. Rajaniemi blends familiar tropes in impressively weird ways, crafting a spy caper that will expand your mind even as it pummels it into submission. It is a study in contrasts: the sweep of history resolved down into a beaten girl on her hands and knees before a despot, and dancing out her inherent power and magic in a storm built by the dreams of the gods themselves.
For the past three years, returning editor John Joseph Adams has teamed up with an established author in the genre serving as guest editor. This year, the honor falls to N. Merc Rustad and Micah Dean Hicks. In this volume, legendary horror impresario Ellen Datlow collects the standout stories from 10 years of The Best Horror. The result is a collection that sets OG dark fiction writers alongside newer upstarts, organized in a way that seems to flow seamlessly from one horrifying scene to the next. An afterword listing notable horror novels of the past decade will further help you build out your reading list.
Martin, also aided in bringing together this hefty volume. It collects 16 new stories and a reprint of one classic Martin tale exploring the light and dark sides of magic, and the shadows in-between. Parker, Garth Nix, Liz Williams, Lavie Tidhar, Kate Elliott,Megan Lindholm, and more—a veritable all-star lineup of the best writers and some of the most familiar names in genre writing.
A Gardner collection was always a sure best. Now, Small Beer press has assembled his most noteworthy stories—along with two new tales—into a wildly varied and consistently brilliant collection drawing from tall tales and legends of old, and featuring a Utopian assassin, an aging UFO contactee, a haunted Mohawk steelworker, a yam-eating zombie, Harry Houdini, Thomas Moore, and more. This anthology, painstakingly edited by Tor mainstay Irene Gallo who, as art director for Tor, commissioned illustrations for every one of them—and thus has read everything the site has ever published , collects the best of the best.
Weighing in at over five pounds and extending to nearly 1, pages, this is the definitive single-volume collection of all of Ursula K. Working in close collaboration with the author, illustrator Charles Vess presents a slightly whimsical new vision of this fantasy realm—its people finally depicted dark skin, as in the text; his dragons, pure magic.
In five standalone stories, Nyx and her messed-up crew take on a series of dispiriting jobs as they fight for survival in a world dominated by enormous insects—a world composed of war-blasted wastelands, in which bug magicians plot to exploit an endless war for their own gains. Nyx investigates the death of an ex-con, pays off old debts, and manages to keep her and her team alive—barely—in the midst of a holy war on a planet where technology is all about genetically-altered bugs.
Across straightforward short fiction, flash, and even verse, Larson explores possible futures and alternate universes, putting an inventive spin on tried-and-true tropes and exploring new ideas all his own. Lovecraft brought back to life as an artificial mind and terrified at being the monster for once. In others, a meme that takes on a life of its own, and a family succeeds from the U. Mamatas favors stories with a sharp edge of social satire and prose as smart-assed as his latest Twitter rant.
Robots Vs. The result is an essential collection of stories exploring the eternal conflict between magic and technology—specifically in the form of robots and fairies. Themes both humorous and serious, delivered by the best in the business. Robots and fairies battle on, and the only winners are SFF readers.
Ambiguity Machines and Other Stories , by Vandana Singh Reading a Vandana Singh story is a bit like finding a new window in a familiar room, opening the blinds, and being astonished at the richness and beauty of the light streaming in: often, they show us the familiar, but illuminated strangely.
Singh is both a physicist and a writer, and her stories combine scientific sharpness with quiet, lyrical power. She makes constant connections between history, the present, and the future; humans and nature; space and Earth. An old woman travels back in time in search of ancient poetry. A man tries to achieve immortality. A human looks for revenge against a machine by trying to find its true name. An engineering exam that considers the classification of three new types of machine life. In every story, she brings big, fantastically speculative ideas so close, it feels as if you can reach out and touch the worlds they inhabit.
She offers up short stories, poetry, and plays that explore many of her favorite themes in new and interesting ways.
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