Pain-T-Bot by Joachim Heijndermans
“You ready?” asks Miller, Alec, owner-prime and enhancer of my system. He wants to tap my back, but when he sees his grease coated hands, he relents, not wanting to stain my exterior...
The Courage of Care by Rosie Oliver
My workday was unusually frustrating: more robo-carers needed urgent repairs; human carers asked for more help for clients whose condition had worsened; and the turnover of contract carers had...
Earth Born by E.J. Tett
Hello aliens. Thought I’d better let you know what’d happened here on Earth, what with it being kinda my fault an’ all. See, it all started with my period being late. I’m never late. I had...
Mirror by Susan Boulton
The reflection in the mirror isn’t me: the long blonde wig, the pose, the weapon. It’s all an act. Just like the discarded clothes on the bed. The neat, simple, “little black...
Desert Prey by Thaddeus White
Ardashir raised a hand to help shield his eyes from the icy desert wind. The sleeves of his linen robe swathed his hand, offering it a little warmth against the nocturnal chill.
“I told you...
Tweets of the Dead by John Frochio
On the evening it began, the Internet was acting strangely. Backgrounds were darker. Icons jittered nervously. Response was slow, like a plodding zombie. Judy could barely read the latest...
Nazca’s Doodles by Tanja Bisgaard
Commander Nazca knew he would be considered a hero if he completed the mission successfully. Maybe they would name the planet after him. Or at least one of their main habitations once they had...
Name? by Stuart Suffel
Captain Dunstan heard the footsteps approaching his cell. He eased himself off his prison cot and rubbed his forehead. A prison guard stopped outside and opened the cell door. A priest entered,...
Prototype 01: Rocket Raptor by Joachim Heijndermans
“So what is it?” I asked Steven, as he stood there with his arms wide and grinning like an idiot, like he was P. T. Barnum or something. Steven and I have worked at Oberon Tec. for almost five...
Beneath the IT Department Lies by John Frochio
“It?”
“Yep! That’s what I call it,” said the disheveled old man who sat cross-legged on the cement floor rocking back and forth. “Don’t know what it is. Don’t know what to do...