Asakiyume mita

In that moment, alerts [of possible nuclear strike] go off on their phones, and Izzy is overwhelmed. A new life has come into the world, Izzy and Lucie have just met their beautiful baby, and there is a fucking amber alert yet again, threatening to take everything away.

Izzy throws her phone at the wall.

“I can’t take this,” she screams. “Why can’t anybody make it stop?” She knows she shouldn’t be the one losing control. Lucie has just given birth ...

“Izzy,” Lucie says softly. “Izzy, I’ll make it stop. For you, and for Luc, I’ll make it stop. I promise. Now, forget about that. Come here, and kiss your child. It’s his birthday.”

From the silence, [Avram] conjured a vision of what Maryam might see if she found her reading-stone, a mental image of the night sky of Yetzirah. Who was it who’d said there were many more stars in heaven than human eyes could see? One of the Persian philosophers, or one of their poets? Did it even make a difference?

Those stars, as much as the sefirot, were outpourings of the divine, and messages were surely written in them. Isaac wondered what language those scriptures would follow. Or maybe they would be like the speech of the crickets, written in no language at all.

It didn’t matter, he decided. God would know them even so.

Twenty-five years ago, catastrophic failure in a seeder ship’s systems had resulted in its entire cargo of LifeMatrix being dumped in a coastal zone at equatorial latitudes on R-220’s eastern continent. Instead of R-220 receiving stepped atmospheric seeding over a ten-year period, the disaster zone received the entire payload in a matter of minutes, resulting in the chaotic cauldron of life visible on the research hub’s screens.

Twenty years ago, Vida Eterna adherents landed a ship in the disaster zone, intent on “achieving unity with Pure Life,” or, as most people would see it, intent on embracing a gruesome death. They succeeded. Their DNA was now part of the bubbling soup down there.

To repeat: no one has been harmed, no one appears to be in danger. Citizens are advised to stay clear and just let them have their moment. There is no need to keep calling the Green Lake Police about this unless the situation changes.

Officers sent to investigate were only mildly disappointed to find that the intriguingly improbable creature was, in fact, not a pegasus, nor a unicorn, but an inflatable personal raft floating on the lake. Officers did report, however, that the rainbow description only applied to certain sections of the floatation device, and on the whole, the design was a rather more pink-forward affair.

Here the desk officer might have overstepped a bit by bringing Raven’s trickster reputation into the discussion, even if simply to deny that it played a role. Green Lake Police leadership has taken note of our insufficient protocols for working with mythical members of the public. Green Lake Police leadership hopes that this can be a teachable moment, and promises that new protocols will be crafted at the regional level, in conjunction with tribal representatives, who would likely have used a more appropriate word than “mythical” in this alert.

“I explained to [the monk] that I needed charity, since not only had my parents abandoned me but so had the monks of Hieizan. Therefore, he ought to give me his robes. To my great astonishment, he refused! I ask you – what kind of Buddhist doesn’t simply hand over his clothing to the first stranger who wants it? I reminded him about the story of Satta Ōji, who virtuously sacrificed himself to feed a hungry tiger, and of Shibi Daiō, who gave up some of his own flesh to keep a dove from being eaten by a hawk. He had the cheek to ask me if I thought I was a tiger or a hawk!

“At that, I knew there was only one thing for me to do. As I was now a newly minted monk, I ought to teach Shunkai to be a better and more generous Buddhist. It wasn’t hard, since I was a lot bigger than he was. I had sworn not to steal, though, so after I took his robes, I gave him my own in return. They didn’t fit him very well, and it was a little silly to see an old man like him dressed as an acolyte, but I figured that would just teach him humility.”

Smuggling in these parts is a hanging offence, but it’s taking a while for the gravity of Jackie’s situation to descend upon him. His affable face strains from the effort of exerting his intelligence ....

“There are naval men of many years’ service,” Trevelyan remarks, without greeting, “who might expound to you all day long of the great accuracy of their timepieces, and never think to change from London time.”

Without realising it until now, she’s been staring all this time at Trevelyan’s delicate, lovely hands, cupped around roses of flame.

osprey_archer

Most beings who detect our presence shy away, fearing the reach of our offensive capacity: the destructive power of our attack system is legendary throughout the galaxy. And yet you drew near in your mediocre artifact and initiated an amazing dance.

Few have visited our refuge: consider yourself regaled.

Despite our reputation, I assure you we are sensitive. How else could we have prospered if not by caring for each of our sisters? The union of our swarm is only possible through the concern and attention with which we treat every one of our members

We are the sentries of our hives, porters of justice, and exterminators of hideous, pillaging, corrupt, squandering vermin.

Our morality is impeccable, although that may be hard to see except from our viewpoint.

If anger inundates us, we compose an undulating surface, a flowing liquid force that manifests itself as breaking waves and even as tides. At times sadness possesses us, and our organisms pulsate in a fractal of fluorescent scales.

• "Fanfiction for a Grimdark Universe" (Vanessa Fogg, in Translunar Travelers Lounge [free])
  
• "How to Defeat Gravity and Achieve Escape Velocity' (Miyuki Jane Pinckard, on Julia Rios's Patreon [free; accessible to all])
  
• The Badger’s Digestion; or The First First-Hand Description of Deneskan Beastcraft by An Aouwan Researcher" (Malka Older, in Constelación [requires a purchase])
  
• "Imila" (Vania Curidor, in Constelación [requires a purchase])
  
• "The Epic of Sakina" (Shari Paul, in FIYAH [requires a purchase, or can be read/heard in two parts from Podcastle for free])
  
• "Survival Lies" (Irette Patterson, in FIYAH [requires a purchase])

I was ever so keen to visit the Aran Islands, but unfortunately, I died before ever making it out of Japan.

And yet. In the months just prior to my death the idea had been mooted among the members of the neighbourhood association to go away on holiday. Over cups of tea after our weekly meeting, the vice-chair Mr Nakarai had let slip that he’d never been overseas, and then, one after another, all the other members of the group had begun to chime in, saying: ‘Me neither!’ ‘Oh, me neither!’ ‘No, I’ve never been abroad either.’ My voice had been among them. In that case, it was suggested, those of us who’d never once left the country should go along to a travel agency, organize a tour guide to accompany us, and take a yokels-abroad sort of vacation. We would go to some place that was the furthest imaginable from Japan. Doubtless the trip would completely wear us out, but we were all of the same generation, and if being abroad for the first time would wear us out to a similar degree, then at least we could be worn out freely and openly, just as our hearts desired. We could embarrass ourselves thoroughly and find it all too much, knowing that we were in good company ...

In the end, we settled on the Aran Islands in Ireland, on the basis they seemed peaceful, and thus probably well-suited to a bunch of pensioners like us.

Apparently my desire to go to the Aran Islands was even greater than I thought, because I was unable to proceed smoothly to the next life, and ended up instead stopping in this world as a ghost.