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February 17, 2012

From “Marietta T. Lewis and the Broken Chi Shield” by Juliet M. Tilford

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“As with all things, the problem comes down to chi,” said Dr. Guthrie-Xue.

“Don’t you mean qi?” said Marietta. “I think that’s how you’re supposed to say it.”

“No, I mean chi,” Guthrie-Xue said, eyes narrowed. “Don’t interrupt.”

Marietta thought of a blistering response but thought better of it. She sat fiddling with her teacup for a moment waiting for the good doctor to continue.

“Based on your description, I’m 99% sure what’s happened,” Guthrie-Xue said after that uncomfortable silence. “They call the process you’ve undergone chi deshielding–literally 破气盾 or ‘broken chi shield.'”

“So what does that mean? I need to hire a geomancer, get some feng shui up in my life? Restore the flow of positive energy?” Marietta was anxious to show her cultural sensitivity even if it stemmed from a single Chinese Culture 107 class and the forewords to the half-dozen holistic cookbooks floating around her kitchen.

“You wish. This insidious attack–which can only be performed by a master in perfect tune with their own acquired and innate chi as well as that of the world–means that you can no longer accrue or process positive chi. Lactose intolerance would be a decent metaphor. Tell me, did anything inauspicious happen on your way here today?”

Marietta nervously scratched the back of her hand. “Well, there was a black cat. And that mirror in the stall on 48th. I had to walk under a ladder to come down here because they’re painting the shop upstairs. And I was almost hit by a cab and lost my metro pass, which I know aren’t traditionally inauspicious but they damn well ought to be.”

 

February 16, 2012

From “Garden of the Blasphemous Shades” by Clarinda “Maggit” Beck

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“They can’t keep the shades from speaking, you understand,” Nigel whispered. “If they choose to cling to this plane rather than going on to their eternal reward, their speech is protected under the Wisps and Shades Act of 1822. Most are too morose or polite to do anything about it, but the ones that stir up trouble get exorcised here.”

Weatherby paled beneath his jet-black top hat, and his gloved hands tightened around his umbrella. “Do I have anything to fear from this shortcut of yours?”

“They aren’t poltergeists, you sot. All they have are words. Don’t let them get to you.”

They entered the garden through an ornate (and warded) wrought-iron gate, and immediately Weatherby could see shades lolling about on tombstones or in midair. The taunts began at once:

“Hey, berk! I know your face. Your pap’s spitting image! Saw him in hell I did!”

“How’s the wife, berk? She was well last I saw her, though there weren’t much talking then if you get my thrust!”

“Still going to church, berk? I got news for you: ain’t no god or devils after you shuffle off, just floating here like me and having good sport! You best kiss one of those fence spikes and save the world the trouble!”

 

February 15, 2012

From “Ianisto’s Time” by Annemarie N. Kussman

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He aimed the pistol at Charlotte, though his finger wasn’t on the trigger. “You’ve had your time. High school. You think we’ve all forgotten, but we remember.”

Then the barrel was pointed at Leo. “You too. Your time was college. You probably look back on those kegger days every night in bed, but they’re gone forever.”

“And I suppose you’re going to talk about how I’ve had my time, too,” said Jonesy. His hand rested on his desk, firmly holding down the silent alarm it concealed.

“It’s been your time ever since. But no more. From now on, it’s my time. It’s poor stupid John Ianisto’s time at last.”

 

February 14, 2012

From “HistonEX: Rare but Serious” by Sally Ingalls

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Warning: this product contains HistonEX™.

HistonEX™ is 99.9% effective at suppressing adverse allergic reactions to the exotic chemicals and compounds upon which the human race increasingly relies for sustenance. However, a genetically predisposed 0.1% of the population may experience a variety of unintended reactions. Seek medical attention immediately if you experience any of the following side effects:

-nausea (may lead to a rare but serious form of rickets)
-loss of appetite (may lead to a rare but serious form of liver escape syndrome or LES)
-dizziness (may lead to a rare but serious form of boneus eruptus, in which the skeleton attempts to leap out the mouth and escape the body)
-coughing (may lead to a rare but serious form of spontaneous species change or SSC)
-tinnitus (may lead to a rare but serious form of combustive nephritis, otherwise known as spontaneous kidney explosion)
-halitosis or tooth loss (may lead to a rare but serious form of dentus floresiensis otherwise known as hobbit mouth)
-fainting spells (may lead to a rare but serious form of mammonic Hansen’s disease otherwise known as rich man’s leprosy)
-hallucinations or violent mood swings (may lead to a rare but serious form of paranoid schizophrenia)
-coma (may lead to a rare but serious form of systemic necrosis, otherwise known as death)
-death (may lead to a rare but serious form of undeath)

 

February 13, 2012

From “The Fifth Street Fruit Market” by Reinaldo G. Sprengeler

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“The Fifth Street Fruit Market! Take it all in. Apples to zucchini.”

“Zucchini isn’t a fruit.”

“Oh, must you spoil everything with your pedantry? Culinarily it’s a vegetable, but botanically it’s a fruit. Like a tomato.”

“If you say so.”

“Come on, walk around. Just drink in those smells, those sights, the firm click of cleaver through fresh produce! Do you know what the most striking thing about this cornucopia is?

“The high prices?”

“It’s all ephemeral. It won’t last. In a week, all this fruit will be in rotting heaps or in the sewers.”

 

February 12, 2012

From “Traumatic Departure” by Aileen Iverson Minimoto

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“We’ve…well, we’ve all become a bit concerned about you. All this talk of going out with Jeremy, of doing stuff with Jeremy…it’s not healthy.”

“I know you don’t like him,” Marybeth hissed. “You’ve never liked him. But that’s no reason not to let me make my own decisions!”

The people gathered in the living room exchanged uneasy glances, and Marybeth thought she could hear a furtive whispering. “Well, you’re right that maybe, perhaps, we weren’t as welcoming of Jeremy as we could have been, at the beginning,” Aunt Roberta coughed. “But I hardly think that’s the point now.”

“Then what is the point?” countered Marybeth. “I’m meeting him later tonight, and unless you want to lock me in my room, I’m going.”

“That’s enough,” barked Uncle Richard. “I’ve had it with all this pussyfooting around. It’s time to cut through the bullshit.”

“No, Rich,” Dad said. “We discussed this, we need to break things carefully-”

His brother cut him off. “Marybeth, Jeremy is dead. He’s been dead for six months, and you talking about him like he’s alive is creeping all of us right out.”

 

February 11, 2012

From “Earthmother Hall” by Gale H. Klosowski

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“I’m proud to say that the design process had full investment in the sociocultural impact of modern university construction,” said SMU professor of engineering and urban planning Veronica Chatham. “Earthmother Hall is fully conscious of the implications of its layout in social justice terms, as well–something that less progressive engineers often overlook entirely. For instance, it’s oriented with windows facing south-southeast–toward the poorest section of town–and north-northeast–toward the campus wetlands endangered by new stadium construction.”

“My students and I were less interested in the engineering details of the building’s and construction than their implications for the wider planet,” Chatham continued. “I’m proud to say that all our construction personnel earned a living wage, and that all components were sustainably sourced even though it tripled the cost of certain aspects of fabrication. Earthmother Hall is designed to biodegrade naturally over the course of its useful lifespan and leave ruins that will be useful a a habitat for endangered local animals.”

Earthmother Hall, formerly Wildermann Hall, was constructed by Dr. Chatham and a team of her students with a bequest from the late Gloria Wildermann, widow of engineering professor George Wildermann. The ribbon cutting, attended by many Southern Michigan University luminaries, was held early last year. “We had the land blessed by a representative of the Ojibwone nation, who are the rightful owners of the land, and a geomancer from Chungking who is among the rightful owners of the land on the opposite side of the planet,” said Chatham of the ceremony.

When asked about the various allegations that had been raised about the structure before its collapse last week–student and faculty complains of subsidence, leaks, blinding light at sunrise and sunset, and an internal layout with no bathrooms above the second floor–Dr. Chatham was dismissive. “Unfortunately, reactionary thinkers are always an impediment to progressive design,” she remarked. “After all, we created conditions of fear and uncertainty that most of our privileged white students and instructors have never felt but which afflicts fully two-thirds of the world’s population.”

 

February 10, 2012

From “Raw Feed” by Courtniee Kingsley-Marne

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“We have reports that the rebels have converted captured Swedish-made Ordssun air-defense guns and missiles into siege weaponry,” Malianne said. The ground shook and the picture was distorted by digital artifacts for a moment.

“Malianne, are you still there?” Kenneth said. He broke his stare at the newsroom camera and glanced over his shoulder at the producer, concerned.

“…fine…ust another missile strike.” Malianne’s voice came through in patches as the picture resolved itself. “Another missile has landed nearby, near the market. Out government handler is telling us that we cannot go and see the area until rescuers have done their jobs.”

“What’s the mood like in the city right now?” Kenneth asked. “Do the people you’re seen think the government can hold the area?”

There was a pause as his comments traveled thousands of miles via satellite. “I’ve spoken to a lot of people both on and off the record, Kenneth,” she said. “No one seems to think that the government troops can hold off this latest attack for long.”

 

February 9, 2012

From “The Ducal Obsession” by Wallace J. Durboraw

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The Grand Duke turned inward after 1802, becoming more and more reclusive and eccentric. With 99% of his holdings swept away by the Napoleonic Wars, and the remaining tiny rump territory under French “protection,” Edjard IV began to obsess over those few things he could still control.

He instituted decrees to demolish any buildings that interfered with the strict line of sight and straight boulevards near his hold. His people were required first to count steps they took by twos, and then to always begin a journey with their right foot. Double locks were to be installed on all doors and checked five times daily.

Eventually, the Edjard IV’s obsessions found even stranger outlets. He began hoarding items in the ducal hold, chiefly hunks of quartz or granite. Citizens who turned in suitable stones were rewarded from the treasury, while those found to be in possession otherwise were executed–even if the stones were loadbearing members of a house.

The Ducal Guard were most directly affected, as by 1806 their livery had changed 19 times and their drill 103. Edjard was preoccupied with finding a uniform style and marching pattern that would, as he wrote, “cover every corner of the courtyard with every color.” Surviving depictions of the last, 1806, livery show a rainbow of brightly clashing diagonal stripes and saltires, and accounts from former Ducal Guards indicate that the garment took nearly an hour to don (with assistance) and was so bulky as to inhibit the very precision Edjard’s complex marches demanded.

It’s not surprising, then, that the Guard “found” the Grand Duke crushed beneath a pile of his own stones in December 1806. The local French commander, unsurprisingly, quietly arranged for the last ducal holdings to be annexed while pensioning off the remainder of the Guard.

 

February 8, 2012

From “The God of Counterclockwise Ash Raking” by Nellie H. Kopfhoerer

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The islanders, due to their isolation, had developed a pantheon quite distinct from their nearest neighbors and quite unlike anything else in Polynesia. Unfortunately, the last full-blooded islander had died in 1937 and social pressures had prevented the handing down of the traditional tales by any of his kinfolk.

An anthropologist had interviewed the islander, known as Georges, the year before he died and recorded the exchange on acetates. For better or worse, though, Georges was an inveterate prankster and Dr. Hewes was utterly credulous. So, while scholars agree that the resulting cosmology is a mixture of real stories passed down through generations and Georges having fun at the expense of his guest, no one is sure which is which.

Roakoanton, the god of fire embers raked in a counterclockwise direction, is probably made up. Likewise Koantuatuana, who Georges claimed was a powerful goddess that only aided women who had lost great-uncles to shark attacks. But what of Rotpota, said to be the essential god of outrigger canoe lashings? Or Koatpotaea, a spirit Georges said carefully controlled the islanders’ shellfish harvest in line with her own inscrutable motives?

No wonder, then, that relatives say that when Georges died–shortly after the first copies of Hewes’ book reached him–he died laughing.

 

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