I had imagined pinks and vermillions, an impossible sunset contained within an industrial warehouse. I had heard the chitter of squirrels and felt spring breezes. But when I awoke to a thump, felt the vibrations through the floor of my Nomad cell, and saw the most beautiful open door I had ever seen, I knew …



Summary: At a time when most humans have developed prehensile tails, a woman returns home from a trip to find distinct changes in her loafer of a son.     Bart didn't hear me come into the apartment. He remained hunched over his laptop, headphones corking his ears. The brusque taxi driver plopped my enormous …


The War was over, but we didn't know it yet. We threw bio-grenades into schools, blasted┬áblindly into sick bays, screaming, panting, until word came through the ansible, but we are not posthuman. We return home with the rage still in our throats, our eyes searchlights.