http://escapepod.org The Science Fiction Podcast Magazine. Each week Escape Pod delivers science fiction short stories from today's best authors. Listen today, and hear the new sound of science fiction! Fri, 25 May 2012 21:12:36 +0000 en hourly 1 2005-2012 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0 editor@escapepod.org (Mur Lafferty) editor@escapepod.org (Mur Lafferty) science fiction 1440 http://escapepod.org/wp-content/images/pod-org-icon300.jpg http://escapepod.org 144 144 The Science Fiction Podcast Magazine The Science Fiction Podcast Magazine. Each week Escape Pod delivers science fiction short stories from today's best authors. Listen today, and hear the new sound of science fiction! science fiction, sf, stories, audiobooks, storytelling, fiction, short fiction, short story Mur Lafferty Mur Lafferty editor@escapepod.org no no http://escapepod.org/2012/05/17/ep345-the-paper-menagerie/ http://escapepod.org/2012/05/17/ep345-the-paper-menagerie/#comments Thu, 17 May 2012 19:08:48 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=3372 http://escapepod.org/2012/05/17/ep345-the-paper-menagerie/feed/ 0 0:35:19 By Ken Liu Read by Rajan Khanna Discuss on our forums. Originally appeared in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction All stories by Ken Liu All stories read by Rajan Khanna Rated 10 and up  The Paper Menagerie by Ken Liu One of my earliest m[...] By Ken Liu Read by Rajan Khanna Discuss on our forums. Originally appeared in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction All stories by Ken Liu All stories read by Rajan Khanna Rated 10 and up  The Paper Menagerie by Ken Liu One of my earliest memories starts with me sobbing. I refused to be soothed no matter what Mom and Dad tried. Dad gave up and left the bedroom, but Mom took me into the kitchen and sat me down at the breakfast table. “Kan, kan,” she said, as she pulled a sheet of wrapping paper from on top of the fridge. For years, Mom carefully sliced open the wrappings around Christmas gifts and saved them on top of the fridge in a thick stack. She set the paper down, plain side facing up, and began to fold it. I stopped crying and watched her, curious. She turned the paper over and folded it again. She pleated, packed, tucked, rolled, and twisted until the paper disappeared between her cupped hands. Then she lifted the folded-up paper packet to her mouth and blew into it, like a balloon. “Kan,” she said. “Laohu.” She put her hands down on the table and let go. A little paper tiger stood on the table, the size of two fists placed together. The skin of the tiger was the pattern on the wrapping paper, white background with red candy canes and green Christmas trees. I reached out to Mom’s creation. Its tail twitched, and it pounced playfully at my finger. “Rawrr-sa,” it growled, the sound somewhere between a cat and rustling newspapers. I laughed, startled, and stroked its back with an index finger. The paper tiger vibrated under my finger, purring. “Zhe jiao zhezhi,” Mom said. This is called origami. I didn’t know this at the time, but Mom’s kind was special. She breathed into them so that they shared her breath, and thus moved with her life. This was her magic. # Dad had picked Mom out of a catalog. One time, when I was in high school, I asked Dad about the details. He was trying to get me to speak to Mom again. He had signed up for the introduction service back in the spring of 1973. Flipping through the pages steadily, he had spent no more than a few seconds on each page until he saw the picture of Mom. I’ve never seen this picture. Dad described it: Mom was sitting in a chair, her side to the camera, wearing a tight green silk cheongsam. Her head was turned to the camera so that her long black hair was draped artfully over her chest and shoulder. She looked out at him with the eyes of a calm child. “That was the last page of the catalog I saw,” he said. The catalog said she was eighteen, loved to dance, and spoke good English because she was from Hong Kong. None of these facts turned out to be true. He wrote to her, and the company passed their messages back and forth. Finally, he flew to Hong Kong to meet her. “The people at the company had been writing her responses. She didn’t know any English other than ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye.’” What kind of woman puts herself into a catalog so that she can be bought? The high school me thought I knew so much about everything. Contempt felt good, like wine. Instead of storming into the office to demand his money back, he paid a waitress at the hotel restaurant to translate for them. “She would look at me, her eyes halfway between scared and hopeful, while I spoke. And when the girl began translating what I said, she’d start to smile slowly.” He flew back to Connecticut and began to apply for the papers for her to come to him. I was born a year later, in the Year of the Tiger. # At my request, Mom also made a goat, a deer, and a water buffalo out of wrapping paper. They would run around the living room while Laohu chased after them, growling. When he caught them he would press down until the air went out of them and they became just flat, folded-up pieces of paper. I would then have to blow into them to re-inflate them so they could r[...] Podcasts Ken Liu no no http://escapepod.org/2012/05/15/ep314-movement-hugo-repost/ http://escapepod.org/2012/05/15/ep314-movement-hugo-repost/#comments Tue, 15 May 2012 14:22:54 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=3364 http://escapepod.org/2012/05/15/ep314-movement-hugo-repost/feed/ 0 0:00:01 If you listened to this back when it aired, then you’ve heard it, but I’m reposting it here for the benefit of people who want to experience all the Hugo nominees in a row! By Nancy Fulda Read by Marguerite Kenner Discuss on our forums. [...] If you listened to this back when it aired, then you’ve heard it, but I’m reposting it here for the benefit of people who want to experience all the Hugo nominees in a row! By Nancy Fulda Read by Marguerite Kenner Discuss on our forums. First appeared in Asimov’s All stories by Nancy Fulda All stories read by Marguerite Kenner Movement By Nancy Fulda It is sunset. The sky is splendid through the panes of my bedroom window; billowing layers of cumulous blazing with refracted oranges and reds. I think if only it weren’t for the glass, I could reach out and touch the cloudscape, perhaps leave my own trail of turbulence in the swirling patterns that will soon deepen to indigo. But the window is there, and I feel trapped. Behind me my parents and a specialist from the neurological research institute are sitting on folding chairs they’ve brought in from the kitchen, quietly discussing my future. They do not know I am listening. They think that, because I do not choose to respond, I do not notice they are there. “Would there be side effects?” My father asks. In the oppressive heat of the evening, I hear the quiet Zzzapof his shoulder laser as it targets mosquitoes. The device is not as effective as it was two years ago: the mosquitoes are getting faster. My father is a believer in technology, and that is why he contacted the research institute. He wants to fix me. He is certain there is a way. “There would be no side effects in the traditional sense,”the specialist says. I like him even though his presence makes me uncomfortable. He chooses his words very precisely. “We’re talking about direct synaptic grafting, not drugs. The process is akin to bending a sapling to influence the shape of the grown tree. We boost the strength of key dendritic connections and allow brain development to continue naturally. Young neurons are very malleable.” “And you’ve done this before?” I do not have to look to know my mother is frowning. My mother does not trust technology. She has spent the last ten years trying to coax me into social behavior by gentler means. She loves me, but she does not understand me. She thinks I cannot be happy unless I am smiling and laughing and running along the beach with other teenagers. “The procedure is still new, but our first subject was a young woman about the same age as your daughter. Afterwards, she integrated wonderfully. She was never an exceptional student, but she began speaking more and had an easier time following classroom procedure.” “What about Hannah’s…talents?”my mother asks. I know she is thinking about my dancing; also the way I remember facts and numbers without trying. “Would she lose those?” The specialist’s voice is very firm, and I like the way he delivers the facts without trying to cushion them. “It’s a matter of trade-offs, Mrs. Didier. The brain cannot be optimized for everything at once. Without treatment, some children like Hannah develop into extraordinary individuals. They become famous, change the world, learn to integrate their abilities into the structures of society. But only a very few are that lucky. The others never learn to make friends, hold a job, or live outside of institutions.” “And… with treatment?” “I cannot promise anything, but the chances are very good that Hannah will lead a normal life.” I have pressed my hand to the window. The glass feels cold and smooth beneath my palm. It appears motionless although I know at the molecular level it is flowing. Its atoms slide past each other slowly, so slowly; a transformation no less inevitable for its tempo. I like glass — also stone — because it does not change very quickly. I will be dead, and so will all of my relatives and their descendants, before the deformations will be visible without a microscope. I feel my mother’s hands on my shoulders. She has come up behind me and now she turns me so that I must either look in her eyes or pull away. I lo[...] Podcasts Nancy Fulda no no http://escapepod.org/2012/05/10/ep344-the-homecoming/ http://escapepod.org/2012/05/10/ep344-the-homecoming/#comments Fri, 11 May 2012 01:00:59 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=3357 http://escapepod.org/2012/05/10/ep344-the-homecoming/feed/ 0 0:47:06 By Mike Resnick Read by Patrick Bazile Discuss on our forums. Originally appeared in Asimov’s All stories by Mike Resnick All stories read by Patrick Bazile Rated 10 and up The Homecoming by Mike Resnick I don’t know which bothers me more, my[...] By Mike Resnick Read by Patrick Bazile Discuss on our forums. Originally appeared in Asimov’s All stories by Mike Resnick All stories read by Patrick Bazile Rated 10 and up The Homecoming by Mike Resnick I don’t know which bothers me more, my lumbago or my arthritis. One day it’s one, one day it’s the other. They can cure cancer and transplant every damned organ in your body; you’d think they could find some way to get rid of aches and pains. Let me tell you, growing old isn’t for sissies. I remember that I was having a typical dream. Well, typical for me, anyway. I was climbing the four steps to my front porch, only when I got to the third step there were six more, so I climbed them and then there were ten more, and it went on and on. I’d probably still be climbing them if the creature hadn’t woke me up. It stood next to my bed, staring down at me. I blinked a couple of times, trying to focus my eyes, and stared back, sure this was just an extension of my dream. It was maybe six feet tall, its skin a glistening, almost metallic silver, with multi-faceted bright red eyes like an insect. Its ears were pointed and batlike, and moved independently of its head and each other. Its mouth jutted out a couple of inches like some kind of tube, and looked like it was only good for sucking fluids. Its arms were slender, with no hint of the muscles required to move them, and its fingers were thin and incredibly elongated. It was as weird a nightmare figure as I’d dreamed up in years. Finally it spoke, in a voice that sounded more like a set of chimes than anything else. “Hello, Dad,” it said. That’s when I knew I was awake. “So this is what you look like,” I growled, swinging my feet over the side of the bed and sitting up. “What the hell are you doing here?” “I’m glad to see you too,” he replied. “You didn’t answer my question,” I said, feeling around for my slippers. “I heard about Mom – not from you, of course – and I wanted to see her once more before the end.” “Can you see through those things?” I asked, indicating his eyes. “Better than you can.” Big surprise. Hell, everyone can see better than I can. “How did you get in here anyway?” I said as I got to my feet. The furnace was as old and tired as I was and there was a chill in the air, so I put on my robe. “You haven’t changed the front door’s code words since I left.” He looked around the room. “You haven’t painted the place either.” “The lock’s supposed to check your retinagram or read your DNA or something.” “It did. They haven’t changed.” I looked him up and down. “The hell they haven’t.” He seemed about to reply, then thought better of it. Finally he said, “How is she?” “She has her bad days and her worse days,” I answered. “She’s the old Julia maybe two or three times a week for a minute or two, but that’s all. She can still speak, and she still recognizes me.” I paused. “She won’t recognize you, of course, but nobody else you ever knew will either.” “How long has she been like this?” “Maybe a year.” “You should have told me,” he said. “Why?” I asked. “You gave up being her son and became whatever it is you are now.” “I’m still her son, and you had my contact information.” I stared at him. “Well, you’re not my son, not anymore.” “I’m sorry you feel that way,” he replied. Suddenly he sniffed the air. “It smells stale.” “Tired old houses are like tired old men,” I said. “They don’t function on all cylinders.” “You could move to a smaller, newer place.” “This house and me, we’ve grown old together. Not everyone wants to move to Alpha whatever-the-hell-it-is.” He looked around. “Where is she?” “In your old room,” I said. He turned, walked out into the hall. “Haven’t you replaced that thing yet?” he asked, indicating an old wall table. “It was scarred and wobbly when I still lived here.” “It’s just a table. It holds whatever I put on it. That’s all it has to do.” He looked up at the ceiling. “The paint’s peeling too.” “I’m too old to do it myself, and painters cost mon[...] Podcasts Mike Resnick no no http://escapepod.org/2012/05/03/ep343-the-cartographer-wasps-and-the-anarchist-bees/ http://escapepod.org/2012/05/03/ep343-the-cartographer-wasps-and-the-anarchist-bees/#comments Thu, 03 May 2012 10:00:54 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=3335 http://escapepod.org/2012/05/03/ep343-the-cartographer-wasps-and-the-anarchist-bees/feed/ 0 0:29:15 By E. Lily Yu Read by Mur Lafferty Discuss on our forums. Originally appeared in Clarkesworld All stories by E. Lily Yu All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated 10 and up The Cartographer Wasps and the Anarchist Bees By E. Lily Yu For longer than any[...] By E. Lily Yu Read by Mur Lafferty Discuss on our forums. Originally appeared in Clarkesworld All stories by E. Lily Yu All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated 10 and up The Cartographer Wasps and the Anarchist Bees By E. Lily Yu For longer than anyone could remember, the village of Yiwei had worn, in its orchards and under its eaves, clay-colored globes of paper that hissed and fizzed with wasps. The villagers maintained an uneasy peace with their neighbors for many years, exercising inimitable tact and circumspection. But it all ended the day a boy, digging in the riverbed, found a stone whose balance and weight pleased him. With this, he thought, he could hit a sparrow in flight. There were no sparrows to be seen, but a paper ball hung low and inviting nearby. He considered it for a moment, head cocked, then aimed and threw. Much later, after he had been plastered and soothed, his mother scalded the fallen nest until the wasps seething in the paper were dead. In this way it was discovered that the wasp nests of Yiwei, dipped in hot water, unfurled into beautifully accurate maps of provinces near and far, inked in vegetable pigments and labeled in careful Mandarin that could be distinguished beneath a microscope. The villagers’ subsequent incursions with bee veils and kettles of boiling water soon diminished the prosperous population to a handful. Commanded by a single stubborn foundress, the survivors folded a new nest in the shape of a paper boat, provisioned it with fallen apricots and squash blossoms, and launched themselves onto the river. Browsing cows and children fled the riverbanks as they drifted downstream, piping sea chanteys. At last, forty miles south from where they had begun, their craft snagged on an upthrust stick and sank. Only one drowned in the evacuation, weighed down with the remains of an apricot. They reconvened upon a stump and looked about themselves. “It’s a good place to land,” the foundress said in her sweet soprano, examining the first rough maps that the scouts brought back. There were plenty of caterpillars, oaks for ink galls, fruiting brambles, and no signs of other wasps. A colony of bees had hived in a split oak two miles away. “Once we are established we will, of course, send a delegation to collect tribute. “We will not make the same mistakes as before. Ours is a race of explorers and scientists, cartographers and philosophers, and to rest and grow slothful is to die. Once we are established here, we will expand.” It took two weeks to complete the nurseries with their paper mobiles, and then another month to reconstruct the Great Library and fill the pigeonholes with what the oldest cartographers could remember of their lost maps. Their comings and goings did not go unnoticed. An ambassador from the beehive arrived with an ultimatum and was promptly executed; her wings were made into stained-glass windows for the council chamber, and her stinger was returned to the hive in a paper envelope. The second ambassador came with altered attitude and a proposal to divide the bees’ kingdom evenly between the two governments, retaining pollen and water rights for the bees—”as an acknowledgment of the preexisting claims of a free people to the natural resources of a common territory,” she hummed. The wasps of the council were gracious and only divested the envoy of her sting. She survived just long enough to deliver her account to the hive. The third ambassador arrived with a ball of wax on the tip of her stinger and was better received. “You understand, we are not refugees applying for recognition of a token territorial sovereignty,” the foundress said, as attendants served them nectars in paper horns, “nor are we negotiating with you as equal states. Those were the assumptions of your late predecessors. They were mistaken.” “I trust I will do better,” the diplomat said stiffly. She was older than[...] Podcasts E. Lily Yu no no http://escapepod.org/2012/03/01/ep334-the-eckener-alternative/ http://escapepod.org/2012/03/01/ep334-the-eckener-alternative/#comments Fri, 02 Mar 2012 00:45:04 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=3195 http://escapepod.org/2012/03/01/ep334-the-eckener-alternative/feed/ 0 0:22:55 By James L. Cambias Read by Mur Lafferty Discuss on our forums. Originally appeared in All-Star Zeppelin Adventure Stories, edited by David Moles, 2004 All stories by James L. Cambias All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated all ages. Zeppelins! The [...] By James L. Cambias Read by Mur Lafferty Discuss on our forums. Originally appeared in All-Star Zeppelin Adventure Stories, edited by David Moles, 2004 All stories by James L. Cambias All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated all ages. Zeppelins! The Eckener Alternative by James L. Cambias The Hindenburg swung gently on the mast at Lakehurst as the sky over New Jersey turned to purple twilight.  All the passengers, the reporters, the newsreel men were gone.  A couple of sailors stood guard beneath the big ship to enforce the no-smoking rule. John Cavalli waited until the watchman below had turned away, then slid down the stern rope to the ground.  He hunkered down next to the big rolling anchor weight for a couple of minutes, then hurried off into the darkness beyond the floodlights. Once he was clear, Cavalli stopped to peel off the Russian army arctic commando suit he’d been wearing ever since the Zeppelin had lifted off from Frankfurt-am-Main.  It had kept him warm as he hid among the gas cells with his IR goggles and fire extinguisher, but now in the warmth of a spring evening it was stifling. He hit the RETURN button on his wristband and disappeared. # “You can’t make big changes,” said the instructor the first day of Temporal Studies class.  He was a very laid-back physicist recruited from California in 2020s.  “That’s the most important rule.  The folks we work for are the result of a particular set of historical events. Change history too much and their probability level drops below 50 percent.  If that happens, all this” — his gesture encompassed the Time Center — goes away and we’re out of a job.  If we even exist anymore.” A student in the row ahead of Cavalli raised his hand.  “What about making little changes?” “Little changes are fine.  We make little changes all the time.  Most of them are things like making long-term investments, buying up art treasures for safekeeping, keeping species from going extinct, that kind of thing.  You’re going to learn all about gauging the effect of changes, avoiding heterodynes and chaotic points, and when it’s okay to step on butterflies.” Cavalli was listening, but in the margin of his notebook he was doodling airships. # The timegate stage was dark and the control room was empty, just as he’d left it.  The Coke can was still on the console.  Was it maybe a little further to the left than he remembered?  He stepped off the stage and took a drink.  Still tasted the same.  It would take a pretty big timeshift to change the flavor of Coca-Cola. Cavalli locked the door behind him with his purloined master key (the Time Center used mechanical locks because they were a bit more resistant to minor time-shifts) and headed for the library.  He found a book about Zeppelins he didn’t remember and skimmed the pages.  Hindenburg served safely until 1939; scrapped when WWII broke out.  No postwar Zeppelins.  The usual “return of the airship” speculations. Damn.  It hadn’t worked.  He had hoped erasing the vivid image of the Hindenburg fire would have been enough to keep passenger airships alive, but the war still marked the end of their era. # “So why don’t we stop things like the Holocaust or the firebombing of Dresden?”  It was a relatively quiet dorm room party with half a dozen trainees blowing off steam after the first written exam.  Cavalli didn’t see who asked the question, but he sounded drunk. Anna Kyle, the third-year trainee, answered. “Too big.  The models predict major shifts in the 21st Century if there’s no Holocaust.  You lose the Cold War and the whole Jihad era.  We just stay away from World War II if we can help it.  Rescue a few things from museums before they get flattened, take some videos for historians, that’s all.” “Why not stop the whole war?[...] Podcasts James L. Canbias no no http://escapepod.org/2011/12/22/ep324-long-winters-nap/ http://escapepod.org/2011/12/22/ep324-long-winters-nap/#comments Fri, 23 Dec 2011 04:03:29 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2902 http://escapepod.org/2011/12/22/ep324-long-winters-nap/feed/ 0 0:30:33 By Catherine H. Shaffer Read by Mur Lafferty Discuss on our forums. First published in Analog, 2006 All stories by Catherine H. Shaffer All stories read by Mur Lafferty Nothing objectionable in this episode, except it may not be appropriate for the[...] By Catherine H. Shaffer Read by Mur Lafferty Discuss on our forums. First published in Analog, 2006 All stories by Catherine H. Shaffer All stories read by Mur Lafferty Nothing objectionable in this episode, except it may not be appropriate for the younger folk, as the story does discuss Santy Clawr. Long Winter’s Nap by Catherine H. Shaffer “Eat,” said MooninMama, “You have a long winter ahead.” LittlestOne turned her head away as MooninMama lifted the spoon of raspberry pie dripping with honey and caribou fat. LittlestOne was sleepy, too sleepy, for what she planned. “I am already full,” said LittlestOne. Her stomach rumbled, giving away her lie. MooninMama shrugged and set the plate away. It was beginning to get cold in the cave as the crackling fire burned down to embers. Soon it would be time to sleep, time to dream of spring, when they would awaken, shivering, and find that Santy Clawr had visited them. MooninMama lay next to YediDaddy and pulled LittlestOne down between them, like a baby. All of the others had their own beds. The hardest part was lying still between MooninMama and YediDaddy without falling asleep. It wasn’t like going to sleep at night. There were no blankets to keep them warm, though they had soft beds. More than once, LittlestOne shook herself awake after accidentally nodding off. She wasn’t sure she could fight off the long sleep by simple force of will, not with the cold coming down into her bones. She peeked out from beneath her heavy lids and the cave was dark except for the thin, crackly lines of orange from the dying embers in the fire pit. The taste of sugar rose to her tongue and her hands and feet began to tingle. MooninMama was still, her breath coming softer and fainter each time. Her bright blue eyes were closed and her cheek as soft as a baby’s. Chestnut hair fanned around her shoulders. Her breasts rose and fell softly with her breath. YediDaddy wasn’t breathing at all. There was a faint beard of frost on his face, decorating the stubble on his chin. All around lay LittlestOne’s brothers and sisters, their children, her aunts and uncles and cousins, her grandparents, and all the other people of the tribe. In the summer, when the tribe slept, there were all sorts of sounds in the night. People coughing, snoring, and sometimes laughing, but here there was nothing but a deep silence. LittlestOne stood up and shook the tingling out. She felt a pang of longing looking at her parents hibernating, but it wasn’t enough to keep her with them. She turned to sneak out. She felt dizzy and stumbled several times as she tiptoed across the sleeping bodies of her tribe. Nothing would wake them now but Spring. LittlestOne crawled out of the cave and went to the summer house that YediDaddy had built. She lit a fire and crouched beside it. When she felt completely awake, she went out into the night. It was snowing softly, and there weren’t any stars. She had never been so alone. But she resisted the temptation to go back to the cave with her family. She imagined what they would say when she told them she had met Santy Clawr. They wouldn’t think she was such a baby, then! # The days were lonely for LittlestOne. It grew colder and all she wanted to do was go to sleep. Many times she woke herself just on the verge of hibernation , and had to get warm again so she wouldn’t miss Santy. She knew where to find food, even under the snow. MooninMama and YediDaddy kept caches of meat and potatoes underground, where they wouldn’t go bad. There were some nuts and berries left on the bushes, and she didn’t need to eat much, since she was so small. Digging through the buried boxes, LittlestOne wondered why there was so much food, with the feast that Santy Clawr would be bringing. To fight off the loneliness, she sat up on top of the highest hill and looked out over the water. The Hots had called it Saginaw Bay. The wind blew, raising ridges of white up out of the gray water. She cracked a walnut with a rock[...] Podcasts Catherine H. Shaffer no no http://escapepod.org/2011/12/15/ep323-marking-time-on-the-far-side-of-forever/ http://escapepod.org/2011/12/15/ep323-marking-time-on-the-far-side-of-forever/#comments Thu, 15 Dec 2011 22:41:18 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2888 http://escapepod.org/2011/12/15/ep323-marking-time-on-the-far-side-of-forever/feed/ 0 0:34:13 By DK Latta Read by Josh Roseman Discuss on our forums. First published in Prairie Fire, 1999 All stories by DK Latta All stories read by Josh Roseman Marking Time on the Far Side of Forever by D.K. Latta I sit beneath the dark green sky, overlooki[...] By DK Latta Read by Josh Roseman Discuss on our forums. First published in Prairie Fire, 1999 All stories by DK Latta All stories read by Josh Roseman Marking Time on the Far Side of Forever by D.K. Latta I sit beneath the dark green sky, overlooking the valley that has changed much over the years.  What was once a stream has swelled into a river while, to the east, lush vegetation grows where I think there was once a shallow lake. I can’t remember definitely. The information is stored inside me, filed, itemized; I’m merely unsure how to access it. It will come to me. Later, when a random search, an unrelated thought, cracks open the proper conduits and a pulse of electricity resurrects the knowledge, unbidden. Until then, I am content to wait. Below my knee, the dented brass-coloured metal becomes the red of a tree trunk, substituting as a shin and foot. Like an antiquated peg-leg, like a stereotypical pira…pi…pi- Pi is 3.1415926… The organic substance must be replaced occasionally, but the concept has served satisfactorily for almost two hundred years. It was easy to jury-rig. Not so my mnemonic core.  I lack the appropriate tools and diagnostic programs. Yes. There had been a lake, teeming with the hoorah-thet fish. I call them fish simply to provide a basis of comparative orientation. Fish only exist on earth, and this is not earth.  Earth is a long, long way away. “Gakha!” I turn my head left, but abruptly the joints seize up. The swivel mechanism has been malfunctioning for months. Fiffer comes bounding through the long red stalks that sprout to the height of a man. The sun is setting, and when night settles the stalks will curl up until the first rays of morning buss them with its solar kiss. I’m being florid. Dr. Fujiwama programmed me that way. She said it would make my information easier to digest for the scouting party. My left eye starts pixilating, turning everything into a multi-coloured grid. I slap my palm against my brow with a dull clang! and the image clears. Who is bounding toward me? Do I know him? Fiffer. He bounces along on his powerful tail, his four lower limbs atrophied to stumps. I’ve unearthed fossils indicating that his ancestors had well-developed hind limbs. I think the scouting party will be pleased with my report on paleozoology. There are some nice passages in it. Florid even. Fiffer calls me Gakha, which means ‘shelled man’. They do not comprehend refined metals. Fiffer’s people think I’m some sort of god. I’ve tried to disabuse them of that notion. Fiffer halts, his principle forelimb gesticulating. The limb is a tongue that has evolved through the chest cavity. I detail its evolution in my report on Comparative Anatomies of the Vertebrates of the Temperate Zone. It was my first completed essay. I’m proud to say my observations within it have not been contradicted by subsequent data collected in the ensuing years. I was very meticulous. “Gakha?” I focus, realizing I may have drifted. “Has a grubbling fallen into a well?” I rise, prepared to rescue the little creature. “No.” His tongue waves excitedly. “A shell has fallen.” My left eye pixilates momentarily. I ignore it. “What?” “A big shell. It was bright at its bottom as it fell from the sky. Then it landed and went dark.” “Shell?” Slowly, I consider: shell equals refined metals. “Show me, please.” *          *          * It’s a ship. I don’t recognize the design. I lurch toward it in fits and starts through the swamp. I have sent Fiffer back to the village, until I can ascertain whether the inhabitants of the shell — I mean, ship — whether they mean his people harm. It is important that no harm come to them. The scouting party will want to meet them. In the nightsky I recognize the purple glimmer of a planet that shares the sa[...] Podcasts DK Latta no no http://escapepod.org/2011/12/02/ep321-honor-killing/ http://escapepod.org/2011/12/02/ep321-honor-killing/#comments Fri, 02 Dec 2011 21:59:09 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2854 http://escapepod.org/2011/12/02/ep321-honor-killing/feed/ 0 0:19:33 By Ray Tabler Read by Mur Lafferty Discuss on our forums. An Escape Pod original! All stories by Ray Tabler All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated 10 and up for blaster violence. Honor Killing by Ray Tabler You would think that after all the years I[...] By Ray Tabler Read by Mur Lafferty Discuss on our forums. An Escape Pod original! All stories by Ray Tabler All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated 10 and up for blaster violence. Honor Killing by Ray Tabler You would think that after all the years I’ve spent schlepping cargoes around the galaxy I’d have learned not to get involved with the locals, especially when they’re not humans. You would think. A Yanuleen sat down across the table from me in a bar at the edge of the landing field outside of Yanult’s largest city. Yanuleen are furry little folk, bipedal and about a meter tall with six multi-jointed arms poking out at odd intervals around their middles. This one blinked beady, black eyes at me, “Greetings Sentient Being.” “Uh, greetings.” “Isn’t it a glorious piece?” My new buddy pointed an arm at the artwork on display in the middle of the bar. Yanuleen are a bit nuts for that type of thing. They have artwork, mainly sculpture, everywhere, even in a bar. To me it just looked like a three-meter tall bundle of twigs with pieces of broken pottery tossed in at random. “Very nice.” Being in a foul mood, I took a drink and stared at the Yanuleen. “Here is being Klonoon.” He pointed all six arms at himself, in the manner of his kind. “Might here also being Captain Anne Katya Shim, who is having a cargo of entertainment modules impounded by the Port Authority?” “Yeah, that’s me. What’s it to ya, shorty?” This twerp was starting to get on my nerves. “Great amounts of good fortune we are both having. Klonoon is searching many establishments near the spaceport for Captain Anne Katya Shim.” “Well, you found me. What next?” “Next is being Klonoon and Captain Anne Katya Shim discussing matters of mutual benefit.” “And just what matters might those be?” Klonoon is having much influence with the official in charge of impounding cargoes.” Suddenly, my old buddy Klonoon wasn’t near as annoying as a few minutes ago. Captain Anne Katya Shim is helping Klonoon and Klonoon is helping Captain Anne–” “Just call me Anne, okay? And get to the point.” Klonoon’s whole body wriggled, which I think meant he was laughing, or maybe getting ready to vomit. I hadn’t planned on being on that damned planet for more than a day or two, so I hadn’t studied the culture much. “Klonoon is getting assets unfrozen so Anne is getting paid for delivery of cargo.” “And what is Anne doing– I mean, what is it you want me to do in return?” “Anne is killing Klonoon’s cousin Jerbot.” It was my turn to blink. “Anne is what?” “Klonoon’s cousin Jerbot is needing to be killed. It is being a matter of honor.” “I don’t care if it is a matter of honor. Murder’s illegal and I don’t want to end up in prison.” “No. No. Yes. Yes. Murder is being illegal. Honor killings are being different.” Now, right here is when I should have stood up and stormed out. “If that’s the case, why don’t you just kill Jerbot yourself?” Klonoon pulled all three arms in on one side and stuck the others straight out. “Klonoon is not doing that! The one who is killing Jerbot is taking Jerbot’s dishonor on himself.” “Oh well, that’s logical.” “Yes, very. Off-worlders are having no honor. And, Humans are being particularly violent. Anne is probably killing sixes of sentient beings, perhaps sixes of sixes.” “What do you mean we’re violent?” “Humans are having many wars. You are having your War of First Contact, your Altair War, your War of the Outer Rift, your–” “All right, all right, we’ve had a lot of wars. At least we’re not as bad as the[...] Podcasts Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2011/11/24/ep320-thanksgiving-day/ http://escapepod.org/2011/11/24/ep320-thanksgiving-day/#comments Fri, 25 Nov 2011 02:53:10 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2833 http://escapepod.org/2011/11/24/ep320-thanksgiving-day/feed/ 0 0:46:56 By Jay Werkheiser Read by Paul Haring Discuss on our forums. First appeared in Analog All stories by Jay Werkheiser All stories read by Paul Haring Thanksgiving Day By Jay Werkheiser Kev’s stomach curled around emptiness, embracing it as a con[...] By Jay Werkheiser Read by Paul Haring Discuss on our forums. First appeared in Analog All stories by Jay Werkheiser All stories read by Paul Haring Thanksgiving Day By Jay Werkheiser Kev’s stomach curled around emptiness, embracing it as a constant reminder that the colony’s Earth food was almost gone. Another three months, four at the outside. Then what? How will we die? He bent down to look into the nearest cage. “Maybe you’ll tell us why the food here is poisonous,” he said to one of the rats inside. It rolled its dull eyes listlessly toward him. Rust-brown clumps matted its fur, and the metallic odor of dried blood hung in the air. Is that how I’ll go, clutching helplessly at alien dirt, coughing up blood? His gut clenched tighter. “They are not going to tell you anything,” Ahmet said from across the toxicology lab. Kev looked up from the cage at the short, dark-skinned man walking toward him. His circular glasses, perched atop a narrow nose, reminded Kev of an owl. “I thought I’d stop by on the way home from the analytical chem lab,” Kev said. “One of the grunts said you were looking for me earlier.” Ahmet nodded. “I was hoping you could run some samples for me. Give me a clue what’s in them.” Kev frowned. “The biochem team has me running Bradford assays day and night, looking for alien proteins. Did you come up with a new lead?” Hope flared in his chest, then died with Ahmet’s reply. “I’m afraid I’m just grasping at straws. My subchronic rats keep developing the same symptoms — nosebleed, bloody stools, and ultimately internal hemorrhaging.” “Subchronic?” said Kev, quizzically. “My field’s spectroscopy.” “The subjects receive daily doses of an alien food source over ten percent of their life span, about three months for rats.” “Three months?” Kev said. “The hydroponics tanks are dying, Ahmet.” “Yes, I understand that. You’re not the only one living on short rations.” Anger flashed behind Ahmet’s glasses, but quickly dissipated. “Toxicology is a slow business. I don’t think we’re going to have results in time.” Ahmet seemed to deflate with his anger. “We came all this way, spent all those years on the ship, to fail before we even get started.” Kev put his hand on Ahmet’s shoulder. “We’re not going down without a fight.” Ahmet nodded, his eyes downcast. “I have learned that mycowood produced the most severe symptoms in the rats.” “Mycowood? They’re those mushroom-shaped tree things, right? Smell minty.” “Yes. The organic team tells me the smell comes from salicylate esters. All the local plants produce them.” Kev connected the dots. Salicylates. Aspirin. “Blood thinners?” he asked. Ahmet’s head bobbled up and down. “But only dangerous in quantities much larger than we find here. Still, I think it could be important.” “All right, send some of your mycowood samples over to the analyt lab. I’ll squeeze them in first thing in the morning.” “Thank you. Thank you!” Ahmet’s Turkish accent was normally muted, but it thickened when he was excited. “That will be most helpful.” “Save your enthusiasm for tomorrow.” A thin smile curled Kev’s lips, his first in a long time. “It’s nearly fourteen o’clock, time to head home for a few hours’ sleep.” The short walk across the colony compound felt longer because Epsilon Indi, settling low on the horizon at this late hour, cast bright sunbeams into his eyes. Two long shadows moved through the glare ahead of him. Kev shielded his eyes with his hand to see who it was — two grunts working[...] Podcasts Jay Werkheiser no no http://escapepod.org/2011/11/17/ep319-driving-x/ http://escapepod.org/2011/11/17/ep319-driving-x/#comments Thu, 17 Nov 2011 20:02:18 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2829 http://escapepod.org/2011/11/17/ep319-driving-x/feed/ 0 0:00:01 By Gwendolyn Clare Read by Mur Lafferty Discuss on our forums. First appeared in Warrior Wisewoman 3 All stories by Gwendolyn Clare All stories read by Mur Lafferty Driving X by Gwendolyn Clare Carmela wouldn’t have stopped if she had known th[...] By Gwendolyn Clare Read by Mur Lafferty Discuss on our forums. First appeared in Warrior Wisewoman 3 All stories by Gwendolyn Clare All stories read by Mur Lafferty Driving X by Gwendolyn Clare Carmela wouldn’t have stopped if she had known that the kid was still alive. She spotted the body lying under a creosote bush, maybe ten yards from the road, and she hit the brakes.  She grabbed the roll cage of the old dune buggy and pulled herself up, standing on the driver’s seat to scan in both directions along the unpaved road.  A dust devil twirled a silent ballet off to the southeast, but hers was the only man-made dust trail in evidence for miles.  She raised her hand to cover the sun and squinted into the bleached, cloudless sky–no vultures yet, which was good, since vultures attract attention.  Minimal risk, she decided. The dune buggy itself wasn’t that valuable, but the newer-model solar panels powering it would be enough to tempt any sane person, and the carboys of potable water were worth a small fortune out here. Carmela swung out of the dune buggy and jogged over to check out the body.  It was tall but skinny, with the not-yet-filled-out look of a teenager.  Pale skin, a tint of sunburn, brown hair cropped at chin-length.  The girl was lying face down in the dust, so Carmela rolled the body over and checked her front pockets for anything of interest.  A month ago, she would have felt ashamed, but scavenging was the norm down here; after all, dead people don’t miss what you take from them. Carmela was rifling through the kid’s backpack–shaking her head about the nearly empty water supply–when she heard the girl moan. She froze, one hand still buried in the bag.  She should gather up the loot and make a run for the dune buggy before the girl came around. The kid was probably a goner, anyway, she told herself.  Instead, she leaned in closer, looking at the face plastered with sand and sweaty clumps of brown hair. The girl’s eyelids peeled back and stared up at Carmela with the glazed slowness of delirium.  Her cracked lips parted and she said, hoarsely, “Mom?” Nobody had ever called Carmela that before.  She slid her hands under the girl’s shoulders to lift her. # Swinging her legs, nine-year-old Carmela knocked her heels lightly against the side of the exam table.  Mama sat in a plastic chair, flipping through a magazine the way she always did when she was getting impatient.  Carmela’s test result had come in, and for some reason that was beyond her, Mama was really nervous about it.  And the doctor was running late. Carmela didn’t know why Mama was all bent out of shape over the non-Mendelian genetic test.  To be fair, she wasn’t entirely sure what “non-Mendelian” meant, except that it was something bad that your genes could be.  Driving X was a chromosome that was bad that way, and pretty much everybody had it, and for some reason you had to get tested for it anyway.  That’s what Carmela knew. Dr. Tanaka entered the exam room, holding a manila folder to her chest.  ”Afternoon Ms. Perez, Carmela.  Sorry to keep you waiting.” Mama dropped the magazine on the floor next to her chair and stood, fingers knotted together nervously.  ”Well?” Dr. Tanaka opened the folder, took out a single sheet of paper, and handed it to Mama.  Mama stared at it for a long minute, like she couldn’t quite see it properly.  She made a choking noise. In her tight, mustn’t-cry-in-public voice, she said, “I’ll be right back.”  She left the paper on her chair and hurried for the door. Carmela hopped off the exam table and picked up the sheet of paper. It had a lot of gobbledygook on it, but right in the middle, in bold, it read, “XDXD”. She didn’t understand what the big deal was.  Pretty much everybody had the Driving X allele on at least one of their X chromosomes. [...] Best-Of, Podcasts Gwendolyn Clare no no http://escapepod.org/2011/11/10/ep318-the-prize-beyond-gold/ http://escapepod.org/2011/11/10/ep318-the-prize-beyond-gold/#comments Thu, 10 Nov 2011 13:00:01 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2810 http://escapepod.org/2011/11/10/ep318-the-prize-beyond-gold/feed/ 0 0:00:01 By Ian Creasey Read by Josh Roseman Discuss on our forums. First appeared in Asimov’s All stories by Ian Creasey All stories read by Josh Roseman The Prize Beyond Gold by Ian Creasey Three days before the race, when Delroy had finished warming[...] By Ian Creasey Read by Josh Roseman Discuss on our forums. First appeared in Asimov’s All stories by Ian Creasey All stories read by Josh Roseman The Prize Beyond Gold by Ian Creasey Three days before the race, when Delroy had finished warming down from a training run, his coach summoned him for a talk. Delroy could tell it was something big. Michito’s job — assisted by his Enhanced empathy — was to become exquisitely sensitive to his athlete’s mood, so as to help get the best out of him. The attunement sometimes became mutual, and Delroy now discerned a rare eagerness in Michito’s almost-natural face. “The weather forecast for race day has reached certainty,” said Michito. “Temperature: perfect. Humidity: perfect. Wind speed: just below the permissible maximum. Wind direction –” “Perfect?” said Delroy. “Behind you all the way.” Michito grinned in delight. “It’s the final star in the constellation. You’re in great shape, the weather will be ideal, we’re two thousand metres above sea level” — Michito made a sweeping gesture, encompassing the many other factors affecting performance — “and it all adds up to one thing.” “I’m going to win?” Delroy didn’t understand Michito’s glee: the weather would be the same for all the runners. “Yes, but never mind that. Forget winning — you have a chance at the record!” Michito paused to let it sink in. Records were something that athletes and coaches normally never discussed, because they’d stood so long that they were effectively unbeatable. The record for the men’s 100 metres had remained at 8.341 seconds for the past seventy years. A pulse of exhilaration surged through Delroy. His posture stiffened, as if already preparing for the starting gun. “Really? The world record?” “Yes, the one and only. The prize beyond gold.” Michito’s excitement spilled out, infecting Delroy, whose own excitement blazed in return and stoked a feedback loop. They were practically getting high on it. Indeed, this giddy rush was as close to getting high as Delroy had ever experienced. In his entire life he’d never once taken any kind of drug. The rules were strict on that, as on so many other things. Abruptly, Michito reverted to his habitual seriousness. “A chance, I said. A real chance. But only if everything’s as smooth as an angel’s feather. We need absolute perfection. There can be no deviations, no distractions.” This was standard rhetoric for any important race. Yet Michito’s demeanour indicated something beyond the usual rigorous regime. “I think it would be best if you stayed here at the training ground,” Michito went on, “instead of going back to the villa tonight. This is a more controlled environment, with much less risk –” “What could possibly happen to me?” “I want to keep you away from other people, and it’s easier to do that here. You’ll be in purdah, seeing no-one except your coaching team. I know it’ll be frustrating, but it’s only three days.” Delroy grimaced, though he didn’t argue. Michito knew what was best. Aside from the usual health and attractiveness tweaks, Michito’s main Enhancement was an uncanny empathy that let him predict Delroy’s responses, and thus determine the optimum conditions for success. If he felt purdah was necessary, then it must be necessary. It was only another line in the script Delroy had been following all his life. The script had two phases, as familiar as his two legs. Sometimes, when he rehearsed stride patterns out on the track, the script echoed in his head with every step: left, right; left, right — race, train; race, train…. Michito said, “This is[...] Podcasts Ian Creasey no no http://escapepod.org/2011/10/20/ep-315-clockwork-fagin/ http://escapepod.org/2011/10/20/ep-315-clockwork-fagin/#comments Thu, 20 Oct 2011 20:47:16 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2757 http://escapepod.org/2011/10/20/ep-315-clockwork-fagin/feed/ 0 1:15:35 By Cory Doctorow Read by Grant Baciocco Discuss on our forums. First appeared in Steampunk! An Anthology of Fantastically Rich and Strange Stories Music by Clockwork Quartet All stories by Cory Doctorow All stories read by Grant Baciocco This one is[...] By Cory Doctorow Read by Grant Baciocco Discuss on our forums. First appeared in Steampunk! An Anthology of Fantastically Rich and Strange Stories Music by Clockwork Quartet All stories by Cory Doctorow All stories read by Grant Baciocco This one is a long one! This is considered appropriate for kids 12 and up – it’s a YA story with one murder. Clockwork Fagin By Cory Doctorow Monty Goldfarb walked into St Agatha’s like he owned the place, a superior look on the half of his face that was still intact, a spring in his step despite his steel left leg. And it wasn’t long before he *did* own the place, taken it over by simple murder and cunning artifice. It wasn’t long before he was my best friend and my master, too, and the master of all St Agatha’s, and didn’t he preside over a *golden* era in the history of that miserable place? I’ve lived in St Agatha’s for six years, since I was 11 years old, when a reciprocating gear in the Muddy York Hall of Computing took off my right arm at the elbow. My Da had sent me off to Muddy York when Ma died of the consumption. He’d sold me into service of the Computers and I’d thrived in the big city, hadn’t cried, not even once, not even when Master Saunders beat me for playing kick-the-can with the other boys when I was meant to be polishing the brass. I didn’t cry when I lost my arm, nor when the barber-surgeon clamped me off and burned my stump with his medicinal tar. I’ve seen every kind of boy and girl come to St Aggie’s — swaggering, scared, tough, meek. The burned ones are often the hardest to read, inscrutable beneath their scars. Old Grinder don’t care, though, not one bit. Angry or scared, burned and hobbling or swaggering and full of beans, the first thing he does when new meat turns up on his doorstep is tenderize it a little. That means a good long session with the belt — and Grinder doesn’t care where the strap lands, whole skin or fresh scars, it’s all the same to him — and then a night or two down the hole, where there’s no light and no warmth and nothing for company except for the big hairy Muddy York rats who’ll come and nibble at whatever’s left of you if you manage to fall asleep. It’s the blood, see, it draws them out. So there we all was, that first night when Monty Goldfarb turned up, dropped off by a pair of sour-faced Sisters in white capes who turned their noses up at the smell of the horse-droppings as they stepped out of their coal-fired banger and handed Monty over to Grinder, who smiled and dry-washed his hairy hands and promised, “Oh, aye, sisters, I shall look after this poor crippled birdie like he was my own get. We’ll be great friends, won’t we, Monty?” Monty actually laughed when Grinder said that, like he’d already winkled it out. As soon as the boiler on the sisters’ car had its head of steam up and they were clanking away, Grinder took Monty inside, leading him past the parlour where we all sat, quiet as mice, eyeless or armless, shy a leg or half a face, or even a scalp (as was little Gertie Shine-Pate, whose hair got caught in the mighty rollers of one of the pressing engines down at the logic mill in Cabbagetown). He gave us a jaunty wave as Grinder led him away, and I’m ashamed to say that none of us had the stuff to wave back at him, or even to shout a warning. Grinder had done his work on us, too true, and turned us from kids into cowards. Presently, we heard the whistle and slap of the strap, but instead of screams of agony, we heard howls of defiance, and yes, even laughter! “Is that the best you have, you greasy old sack of suet? Put some arm into it!” And then: “Oh, dearie me, you must be tiring of your work. See how the sweat runs down your face, how your tongue doth protrude from your stinking gob. Oh please, dear master, tell me y[...] Best-Of, Podcasts Cory Doctorow no no http://escapepod.org/2011/10/13/ep314/ http://escapepod.org/2011/10/13/ep314/#comments Thu, 13 Oct 2011 14:36:43 +0000 Bill Peters http://escapepod.org/?p=2734 http://escapepod.org/2011/10/13/ep314/feed/ 0 0:00:01 By Nancy Fulda Read by Marguerite Kenner Discuss on our forums. First appeared in  Asimov’s March 2011 issue All stories by Nancy Fulda All stories read by Marguerite Kenner Movement By Nancy Fulda It is sunset.  The sky is splendid through th[...] By Nancy Fulda Read by Marguerite Kenner Discuss on our forums. First appeared in  Asimov’s March 2011 issue All stories by Nancy Fulda All stories read by Marguerite Kenner Movement By Nancy Fulda It is sunset.  The sky is splendid through the panes of my bedroom window; billowing layers of cumulous blazing with refracted oranges and reds.  I think if only it weren’t for the glass, I could reach out and touch the cloudscape, perhaps leave my own trail of turbulence in the swirling patterns that will soon deepen to indigo. But the window is there, and I feel trapped. Behind me my parents and a specialist from the neurological research institute are sitting on folding chairs they’ve brought in from the kitchen, quietly discussing my future.  They do not know I am listening.  They think that, because I do not choose to respond,  I do not notice they are there. “Would there be side effects?” My father asks.  In the oppressive heat of the evening, I hear the quiet Zzzapof his shoulder laser as it targets mosquitoes.  The device is not as effective as it was two years ago: the mosquitoes are getting faster. My father is a believer in technology, and that is why he contacted the research institute.  He wants to fix me.  He is certain there is a way. “There would be no side effects in the traditional sense,”the specialist says.  I like him even though his presence makes me uncomfortable.  He chooses his words very precisely.  “We’re talking about direct synaptic grafting, not drugs.  The process is akin to bending a sapling to influence the shape of the grown tree.  We boost the strength of key dendritic connections and allow brain development to continue naturally. Young neurons are very malleable.” “And you’ve done this before?”  I do not have to look to know my mother is frowning. My mother does not trust technology.  She has spent the last ten years trying to coax me into social behavior by gentler means.  She loves me, but she does not understand me.  She thinks I cannot be happy unless I am smiling and laughing and running along the beach with other teenagers. “The procedure is still new, but our first subject was a young woman about the same age as your daughter.  Afterwards, she integrated wonderfully.  She was never an exceptional student, but she began speaking more and had an easier time following classroom procedure.” “What about Hannah’s…talents?”my mother asks.  I know she is thinking about my dancing; also the way I remember facts and numbers without trying. “Would she lose those?” The specialist’s voice is very firm, and I like the way he delivers the facts without trying to cushion them.  “It’s a matter of trade-offs, Mrs. Didier.  The brain cannot be optimized for everything at once.  Without treatment, some children like Hannah develop into extraordinary individuals. They become famous, change the world, learn to integrate their abilities into the structures of society.  But only a very few are that lucky. The others never learn to make friends, hold a job, or live outside of institutions.” “And… with treatment?” “I cannot promise anything, but the chances are very good that Hannah will lead a normal life.” I have pressed my hand to the window.  The glass feels cold and smooth beneath my palm.  It appears motionless although I know at the molecular level it is flowing.  Its atoms slide past each other slowly, so slowly; a transformation no less inevitable for its tempo.  I like glass — also stone — because it does not change very quickly.  I will be dead, and so will all of my relatives and their descendants, before the deformations will be visible without a microscope. I feel my mother’s hands on my shoulders.  She has come up behind me and now she turns me so that I must either look in her eyes or pull away.  I look in her eyes because I love her and because I am calm enough right now to handle it.  She speaks softly and slowly. “Would you like that, Hannah?  Would  you like to [...] Best-Of, Podcasts Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2011/10/06/ep313-playing-doctor/ http://escapepod.org/2011/10/06/ep313-playing-doctor/#comments Thu, 06 Oct 2011 15:14:21 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2724 http://escapepod.org/2011/10/06/ep313-playing-doctor/feed/ 0 0:34:00 By Robert T. Jeschonek Read by Josh Roseman Discuss on our forums. First appeared in PS Showcase #3: Mad Scientist Meets Cannibal All stories by Robert T. Jeschonek All stories read by Josh Roseman Playing Doctor By Robert T. Jeschonek The problem w[...] By Robert T. Jeschonek Read by Josh Roseman Discuss on our forums. First appeared in PS Showcase #3: Mad Scientist Meets Cannibal All stories by Robert T. Jeschonek All stories read by Josh Roseman Playing Doctor By Robert T. Jeschonek The problem with having a crush on your mad scientist boss is, every day she doesn’t see how wonderful you really are seems like the end of the world. “This is all wrong!” says Dr. Hildegarde Medici, hurling the tray across her cavernous secret laboratory.  ”You’re a complete imbecile, Glue!” Her words sting, but at least she’s paying attention to me.  I’ll take what I can get from the woman I love.  ”I’m sorry, Dr. M.  Please let me try again.” “Everything is ruined.”  With one arm, Dr. Medici sweeps notebooks and glass beakers from the table in front of her.  ”Now I’ll never finish the doomsday weapon today!” As Dr. Medici throws her head down onto her folded arms on the table, I cross the lab and pick up the silver tray that she threw.  I see myself reflected in its surface–thick glasses, big nose, bald head, pure geek…not her type.  ”I thought you liked the crinkle-cut ones,” I say as I pluck chicken fingers and french fries from the floor and drop them onto the tray. “Steak fries,” says Dr. Medici without raising her head.  ”How many times do I have to tell you, Glue?” She is such a drama queen, but what do you expect?  Her line of work attracts a certain type of personality–passionate, temperamental, creative, flamboyant.  To tell you the truth, it’s one of the things I love most about her. “I could run to the store,” I say, dumping the chicken and fries into a waste basket.  ”By the time you’re done building your doomsday weapon, I could have hot fries ready for you.” Dr. Medici rolls her eyes like a disgusted teenager.  ”I can’t concentrate on building a doomsday weapon on an empty stomach.” I know the feeling…the not being able to concentrate part, that is.  Most days, I can barely focus on my work instead of Dr. Medici’s long black hair and bright green eyes.  Once, I was so distracted by Dr. M that I cross-wired the brain of a giant robot, which proceeded to rampage at a garbage dump instead of an army base. If only I could tell her I love her.  If only I could close that final mile that has always stood between us. If only I could finally set free the words that I’ve longed to speak, and she would turn to me and say the words I’ve longed to hear. “Don’t just stand there, you putz!”  She spins away from me on her work-stool.  ”Get me a TV dinner out of the freezer or something!” I don’t take it personally.  I know it’s just the stress talking.  She’s been having a rough time lately, just like the rest of the mad scientist community. Thanks a lot, terrorists. # In the good old days, mad scientists weren’t considered public enemies like they are now.  They were tolerated, in fact, because the government loved getting its hands on their way-out inventions after their crazy schemes were thwarted. But not anymore.  Not since the terrorists. What difference is there between a politically motivated insane genius and one who is motivated by greed? How can the government go after one group of people threatening to blow things up and not the other? It can’t. As a result, business has dropped off considerably.  No one will negotiate in good faith with a mad scientist anymore.  Instead of musclebound private citizen thrill-seekers coming after us, we get black ops Special Forces and heat-seeking bunker-buster missiles courtesy of Homeland Security. It’s a tough time to be a mad scientist.  Lots of them have quit already and become street people or college professors. But not my Hildegarde.  She won[...] Podcasts Robert T. Jeschonek no no http://escapepod.org/2011/09/30/ep312_night_bird_soaring/ http://escapepod.org/2011/09/30/ep312_night_bird_soaring/#comments Fri, 30 Sep 2011 23:20:53 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2704 http://escapepod.org/2011/09/30/ep312_night_bird_soaring/feed/ 0 0:48:52 By T. L. Morganfield Read by Mat Weller Discuss on our forums. First appeared in Greatest Uncommon Denominator #3 All stories by T. L. Morganfield All stories read by Mat Weller Rated appropriate for 15 and older due to language. Night Bird Soaring [...] By T. L. Morganfield Read by Mat Weller Discuss on our forums. First appeared in Greatest Uncommon Denominator #3 All stories by T. L. Morganfield All stories read by Mat Weller Rated appropriate for 15 and older due to language. Night Bird Soaring By T. L. Morganfield On his sixth birthday, Totyoalli’s parents took him to the holy city to see the Emperor Cuauhtemoc, but the plane ride proved the most exciting part. He kept his nose to the window, taking in the vast lands of the One World, from the snow-capped mountains of his home in the northern provinces to the open plains of Teotihuacan. He marveled at the miniature cities and cars passing below. All his life he’d dreamt of flying, ever since the first time he’d seen a bird gliding through the air. From the airport, they took a cab to the royal palace on Lake Texcoco. Tenochtitlan, the single largest city in the world, sprawled around it for miles. The cab buzzed across one of the royal causeways, the water blue and shimmering in the hot sun. Inside the walled royal complex stood the Great Temple, meticulously maintained by a crew of thousands, its sacred Sun Stone keeping watch over the visiting crowds. At the palace, two genetically-engineered royal jaguar knights escorted Totyoalli’s family to the Emperor’s gardens. Totyoalli watched their tails swish behind them, fascinated. Their heads looked so soft he wished to pat them between the ears, but when he tried to talk to them, they bared their fangs and gripped their spears a little tighter. Ahead, a doorway opened onto a stone patio overlooking an expanse of grass and trees. Marigolds and birds of paradise choked the flower beds. Cranes stepped gingerly through the ponds while monkeys chattered in the trees. The Revered Speaker stood at the crest of the nearest hill, his hands behind him and his back to them. “Good of you to come, Totyoalli.” He didn’t turn. “Let me take a look at you.” Unafraid, Totyoalli hurried to him. His friends claimed the Revered Speaker was seven hundred years old, that he’d been emperor when the Spanish Devil Cortés tried to bring the One World to its knees. Some said Cuauhtemoc was the War God himself, or maybe the Fifth Sun incarnate, come to Earth to lead the Mexica through a thousand years of glory. Totyoalli had expected someone very old and wise. But in fact the Revered Speaker looked hardly out of his teens. He wore green robes with the sacred day symbols embroidered in gold and silver thread, and his long black hair was tied back in a complicated knot. Blue, red, white, and black tattooed lines formed the profile of an eagle on the right side of his face. Cuauhtemoc knelt and kissed the earth at Totyoalli’s feet, quoting dedications and blessing him. He then took the boy’s head in both hands and granted him the kiss of Divine Grace on his forehead. “Now that we have the formalities out of the way, walk with me.” Cuauhtemoc took Totyoalli by the hand and they moved down the hill, past the egrets, until his mother and father vanished from sight. They sat on a stone bench under a grove of willow trees. “So, how is calmecac?” Totyoalli shrugged. The Revered Speaker’s smile widened. “Haven’t much interest in studying?” “I like the learning part, but the other boys say I should go to the telpochcalli with the rest of the poor kids, and they pick fights.” “You haven’t told them you’re the Night Wind?” “Mother told me not to.” Cuauhtemoc nodded. “She’s not pleased with your destiny.” Totyoalli shook his head. His mother wished he weren’t the Night Wind; in fact, she’d gone to great lengths to plan a home delivery, so the priests and government augurs couldn’t record the exact time of his birth. His father had thought her ridiculous, but respected [...] Podcasts TL Morganfield no no http://escapepod.org/2011/09/15/ep310-flash-extravaganza/ http://escapepod.org/2011/09/15/ep310-flash-extravaganza/#comments Fri, 16 Sep 2011 01:10:07 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2651 http://escapepod.org/2011/09/15/ep310-flash-extravaganza/feed/ 0 0:00:01 Another helping of flash! Jenna’s Clocks by T. F. Davenport (narrator Jean Hilde-Fulghum) Wetware Woes by J. J. DeBenedictis (narrator Mur Lafferty) End of the World or Not, I Still Have Feelings by Daniel Morris (narrator- Barry Haworth) The [...] Another helping of flash! Jenna’s Clocks by T. F. Davenport (narrator Jean Hilde-Fulghum) Wetware Woes by J. J. DeBenedictis (narrator Mur Lafferty) End of the World or Not, I Still Have Feelings by Daniel Morris (narrator- Barry Haworth) The Best Cover Band in the Universe by Andrew Fazzari (narrator- John Anealio) – Honorable Mention for the Escape Pod 2010 Flash Contest! Discuss on our forums. Flash, Podcasts Various Artists no no http://escapepod.org/2011/08/26/ep307-soulmates/ http://escapepod.org/2011/08/26/ep307-soulmates/#comments Fri, 26 Aug 2011 17:40:40 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2616 http://escapepod.org/2011/08/26/ep307-soulmates/feed/ 0 1:00:48 By Mike Resnick and Lezli Robyn Read by Dave Thompson Discuss on our forums. First appeared in September, 2009 Asimov’s All stories by Mike Resnick and Lezli Robyn All stories read by Dave Thompson Rated appropriate for teens and up due to lan[...] By Mike Resnick and Lezli Robyn Read by Dave Thompson Discuss on our forums. First appeared in September, 2009 Asimov’s All stories by Mike Resnick and Lezli Robyn All stories read by Dave Thompson Rated appropriate for teens and up due to language, alcohol dependence, and discussing death of loved ones. Soulmates by Mike Resnick and Lezli Robyn Have you ever killed someone you love – I mean, really love? I did. I did it as surely as if I’d fired a bullet into her brain, and the fact that it was perfectly legal, that everyone at the hospital told me I’d done a humane thing by giving them permission to pull the plug, didn’t make me feel any better. I’d lived with Kathy for twenty-six years, been married to her for all but the first ten months. We’d been through a lot together: two miscarriages, a bankruptcy, a trial separation twelve years ago – and then the car crash. They said she’d be a vegetable, that she’d never think or walk or even move again. I let her hang on for almost two months, until the insurance started running out, and then I killed her. Other people have made that decision and they learn to live with it. I thought I could, too. I’d never been much of a drinker, but I started about four months after she died. Not much at first, then more every day until I’d reach the point, later and later each time, where I couldn’t see her face staring up at me anymore. I figured it was just a matter of time before I got fired – and you have to be pretty messed up to be fired as a night watchman at Global Enterprises. Hell, I didn’t even know what they made, or at least not everything they made. There were five large connected buildings, and a watchman for each. We’d show up at ten o’clock at night, and leave when the first shift showed up at seven in the morning – one man and maybe sixty robots per building. Yeah, being sacked was imminent. Problem was, once you’ve been fired from a job like this, there’s nothing left but slow starvation. If you can’t watch sixty pre-programmed robots and make sure the building didn’t blow up, what the hell can you do? I still remember the night I met Mose. I let the Spy Eye scan my retina and bone structure, and after it let me in I went directly to the bottle I’d hidden in the back of the washroom. By midnight I’d almost forgotten what Kathy looked like on that last day – I suppose she looked pretty, like she always did, but innocent was the word that came to mind – and I was making my rounds. I knew that Bill Nettles – he was head man on the night shift – had his suspicions about my drinking and would be checking up on me, so I made up my mind to ease off the booze a little. But I had to get rid of Kathy’s face, so I took one more drink, and then next thing I knew I was trying to get up off the floor, but my legs weren’t working. I reached out for something to steady myself, to lean against as I tried to stand, and what I found was a metal pillar, and a foot away was another one. Finally my eyes started focusing, and I saw that what I had latched onto were the titanium legs of a robot that had walked over when it heard me cursing or singing or whatever the hell I was doing. “Get me on my feet!” I grated, and two strong metal hands lifted me to my feet. “All you all right, sir?” asked the robot in a voice that wasn’t quite a mechanical monotone. “Shall I summon help?” ”No!” I half-snapped, half-shouted. “No help!” “But you seem to be in physical distress.” “I’ll be fine,” I said. “Just help me to my desk, and stay with me for a few minutes until I sober up.” “I do not understand the term, sir,” it said. “Don’t worry about it,” I told him. “Just help me.” “Yes, sir.” “Have you got an ID?” I asked as he began walking me to my desk. “MOZ-512, sir.” I tried to pronounce it, but I was still too drunk. “I will call you Mose,” I announced at last. “For Old Man Mose.” “Who was Old Man Mose, sir?” he asked. “Damned if I know,” [...] Podcasts Mike Resnick and Lezli Robyn no no http://escapepod.org/2011/08/11/ep305-midnight-blue/ http://escapepod.org/2011/08/11/ep305-midnight-blue/#comments Fri, 12 Aug 2011 02:43:16 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2586 http://escapepod.org/2011/08/11/ep305-midnight-blue/feed/ 0 0:52:20 By Will McIntosh Read by Paul Haring First appeared in Asimov’s Discuss on our forums. All stories by Will McIntosh All stories read by Paul Haring Rated appropriate for everyone! Midnight Blue by Will McIntosh He’d never seen a burgundy befo[...] By Will McIntosh Read by Paul Haring First appeared in Asimov’s Discuss on our forums. All stories by Will McIntosh All stories read by Paul Haring Rated appropriate for everyone! Midnight Blue by Will McIntosh He’d never seen a burgundy before.  Kim held it in her lap, tapped it with her finger.  She was probably tapping it to bring attention to it, and Jeff didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of asking to see it, but he really wanted to see it.  Burgundy (Kim had insisted on calling it burgundy red when she showed it at show and tell) was a rare one.  Not as rare as a hot pink Flyer or a viridian Better Looking, but still rare. A bus roared up, spitting black smoke.  It was the seven bus–the Linden Court bus, not his.  Kids rushed to line up in front of the big yellow doors as the bus hissed to a stop.  A second-grader squealed, shoved a bigger kid with her Partridge Family lunch box because he’d stepped on her foot.  All the younger kids seemed to have Partridge Family lunch boxes this year. “What did you say it did when you’ve got all three pieces of the charm together?”  Jeff asked Kim.  He said it casually, like he was just making conversation until his bus came. “It relaxes time,” Kim said.  “When you’re bored you can make time pass quickly, and when you’re having fun you can make time stretch out.” Jeff nodded, tried to look just interested enough to be polite, but no more.  What must that be like, to make the hour at church fly by?  Or make the school day (except for lunch and recess) pass in an eyeblink?  Jeff wondered how fast or slow you could move things along.  Could you make it seem like you were eating an ice cream sandwich for six hours?  That would be sparkling fine. “Want to see it?” Kim asked. “Okay,” Jeff said, holding out his hands too eagerly before he remembered himself.  Kim handed it to him, looking pleased with herself, the dimples on her round face getting a little deeper. It was smooth as marble, perfectly round, big as a grapefruit and heavy as a bowling ball.  It made Jeff’s heart hammer to hold it.  The rich red, which hinted at purple while still being certainly red, was so beautiful it seemed impossible, so vivid it made his blue shirt seem like a Polaroid photo left in the sun too long. “Imagine finding this in the wild?  Pushing over a dead tree and seeing it sitting there under the root?” Jeff said. “Yeah, right,” Kim said.  “Not likely.”  She shook her long brown hair back over her shoulder.  She did that all day long in class.  She thought she was so gorgeous. A few of the other kids circled around to take a look.  Jeff spun it around until he found the hole where it would be fitted to one side of the staff, when someone got the whole charm together. “Will your father try to get the other two pieces, do you think?” Ricky Adamo asked, reaching to pet it once, probably just so he could say he’d touched one. “He’s only keeping this as an investment,” Kim said, holding out her hands to take it back from Jeff, who passed it over, his fingers suddenly feeling much too light.  “My father’s going to buy me a whole chartreuse to absorb when I’m 18.  I’m going to be a doctor.” “He is not,” Jeff said.  “Most of the chartreuse ones that’ve been found have already been absorbed.  The ones that haven’t, your father would have to give your whole house and everything in it just to get one sphere.” “What would you know about it?” Kim said, glaring.  “You don’t even know what it feels like to absorb one!  You’ve probably never even owned a sphere, let alone absorbed a whole charm.” Cindy Schneider and Donna Ruiz laughed.  Ricky laughed too, even though he’d never owned one either. “I have too owned a sphere,” Jeff said.  “I’ve owned dozens.” “Right,” Cindy said.  “You must keep them under your bed at the Garden Apartments.”  Everybody laughed, except Ricky, who lived at the Garden Apartments too and couldn’t pretend he didn’t. Kim took a pack of Double Bubble out of he[...] Best-Of, Podcasts Will McIntosh no no http://escapepod.org/2011/07/28/ep303-leech-run/ http://escapepod.org/2011/07/28/ep303-leech-run/#comments Fri, 29 Jul 2011 03:22:18 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2480 http://escapepod.org/2011/07/28/ep303-leech-run/feed/ 0 0:37:04 By Scott W. Baker Read by: Alasdair Stuart Originally appearing in Zero Gravity: Adventures in Deep Space – Released July 27! Discuss on our forums. All stories by Scott W. Baker All stories read by Alasdair Stuart Rated appropriate for mid-te[...] By Scott W. Baker Read by: Alasdair Stuart Originally appearing in Zero Gravity: Adventures in Deep Space – Released July 27! Discuss on our forums. All stories by Scott W. Baker All stories read by Alasdair Stuart Rated appropriate for mid-teens and up for violence and mild adult language. Leech Run by Scott W. Baker The inhabitants of Galileo Station parted as Titan moved among them. Not one made eye contact, but all gawked furtively. One of Titan’s dark eyes glared back down at the throng; the other eye remained hidden behind a curtain of stark white hair. Conspicuous appearance was his curse. What bystander would forget a snow-capped mountain of dark muscle? Memorability was not an asset for someone like him. One body in the crowd moved toward Titan rather than away. “The passengers is aboard, love,” the man said. “Reif, call me ‘love’ in public and you’ll find yourself very uncomfortable.” Titan lowered his voice so it stayed within the wide berth granted by the populace. “How many passengers?” “Thirty-two, lo — Captain.” Titan shook his head. “Hemingway promised fifty.” “If Hem flew so bad as he scored cargo–” “Any load of leeches will turn a profit,” Titan assured the mechanic. “But small load doesn’t mean small risk. I want you sharp.” “As ever, love.” They continued through the bustling station to their ship, a little cargo runner designed for intra-system transport at sub-light speeds. Of course, a mechanic of Reif’s skill could make a ship reach speeds its designers never fathomed. Such deviant engineering demanded a pilot with a select set of skills and dubious moral character. Hemingway possessed both. He was waiting for them beside the ship with his ever-present, boastful grin. “I said there be takers on Galileo, didn’t I?” Hemingway said as his crewmates entered earshot. “I done already told them the rules.” Titan’s brow furrowed. “Thirty-two? Don’t dislocate anything patting yourself on the back. And there’s just one rule on my ship.” Titan brushed past his pilot into the cargo hold. It was a small hold, even for an intra-system runner, but it hadn’t always been so. Reif’s touch here made for ideal leech transport. The customized hold maintained a six-foot buffer from all electrical systems, enough of a gap that even a class-three leech couldn’t siphon a single ampere. Despite his extensive precautions, Titan always felt uneasy with such capricious cargo. Titan surveyed the passengers perched shoulder to shoulder on the plank benches that were bolted to the hold’s bare metal floor. Leeches, every last one of them. They didn’t look dangerous. On a ship in deep space, they could be as lethal as any weapon. Aside from passengers and benches, the hold was barren: no amenities, no restraints, no personal possessions, no plumbing. These thirty-two leeches would spend the next two weeks in this metal tank. No normal human would accept such accommodations. Why should they when a starliner would take them all the way to Kilroth for a couple hundred cred? This kind of travel was for people the liners would never touch. Alpha System law guaranteed anyone foolish enough to transport a leech would spend the rest of his life laboring on a prison planet — one too close to a sun for a proper settlement but too mineral-rich to resist exploiting. Such labor colonies’ conditions were enough to make one envy the leeches’ sentences; they were simply shot on sight. Of course Alpha was a big system, difficult to monitor. A captain could make a few thousand cred smuggling a leech between planets. Carrying them all the way to a friendlier system, as Titan did, could net a small fortune. Titan demanded twenty grand a head. Alpha[...] Podcasts Scott W. Baker no no http://escapepod.org/2011/07/21/ep302-flash-extravaganza/ http://escapepod.org/2011/07/21/ep302-flash-extravaganza/#comments Fri, 22 Jul 2011 01:03:23 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2457 http://escapepod.org/2011/07/21/ep302-flash-extravaganza/feed/ 0 0:35:59 Winners of our 2010 Flash Contest! London Iron by William R. Halliar (narrator Andrew Richardson) Wheels of Blue Stilton by Nicholas J. Carter (narrator Christian Brady) Light and Lies by Gideon Fostick (narrator- Mur Lafferty) All Escape Pod Origi[...] Winners of our 2010 Flash Contest! London Iron by William R. Halliar (narrator Andrew Richardson) Wheels of Blue Stilton by Nicholas J. Carter (narrator Christian Brady) Light and Lies by Gideon Fostick (narrator- Mur Lafferty) All Escape Pod Originals! And we end with a grand “It’s Storytime” montage put together by Marshal Latham! Discuss on our forums. Best-Of, Flash, Podcasts Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2011/07/07/ep300-we-go-back/ http://escapepod.org/2011/07/07/ep300-we-go-back/#comments Thu, 07 Jul 2011 14:59:38 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2400 http://escapepod.org/2011/07/07/ep300-we-go-back/feed/ 0 0:44:29 By Tim Pratt Read by: Mur Lafferty An Escape Pod original! Discuss on our forums. All stories by Tim Pratt All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated appropriate for younger teens and up – occasional adult language. Episode 300! Wow! We Go Back Ti[...] By Tim Pratt Read by: Mur Lafferty An Escape Pod original! Discuss on our forums. All stories by Tim Pratt All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated appropriate for younger teens and up – occasional adult language. Episode 300! Wow! We Go Back Tim Pratt My best friend Jenny Kay climbed in through my window and nearly stepped on my head. If I’d been sleeping a foot closer to the wall, I would’ve gotten a face full of her boot, but instead I just snapped awake and said “What who what now?” and blinked a lot. “Oh damn,” Jenny said in a loudish whisper. “When did you move your bed under the window?” “Last week,” I said, sitting up in bed. “I wanted a change.” If you can’t rearrange your life, you can at least rearrange yourself, and if your mom won’t let you dye your hair blue, you can make do with rearranging your rooms. Jenny Kay dropped from standing to sitting in one motion, making my mattress bounce, and landed cross-legged and totally comfortable. “Hey,” she said. “So I need to borrow your ring.” I couldn’t read her expression in the dim moonlight from the window. I looked at my right hand, where a thin silver ring looped my index finger, catching what light there was in the room and giving back twinkles. The metal grew cold against my skin and tightened a fraction, almost a friendly little squeeze. The ring — which wasn’t really a ring — could tell when I was thinking about it. “Uh,” I said. Jenny nodded vigorously, a motion I felt in the jostling of the mattress more than I saw. “I know! I know. But I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I mean, you’ve had the thing for more than a year, and I’ve never asked once if I could use it, right?” I glanced at my closed door — no glow under the crack at the bottom, which meant my parents had gone to their separate beds and turned out the hall light — and switched on my bedside lamp. Jenny was dressed in jeans and a sweater, all in dark grays and blacks, not her usual aggressively flamboyant colorful mishmash style at all. Good for sneaking into people’s windows, I guessed. I sat up against the headboard, because when you’re about to annoy your best friend, it’s better not to be flat on your back at the time. “I wish I could,” I said — not one hundred percent true, but Jenny was a fourteen-year-old genius, not a human lie detector. “But it’s, like… part of me. You know? I’m part of the mechanism. I can’t just take it off. It’s linked into my, what’s it called, socratic nervous system?” “Somatic,” Jenny said gloomily. She was almost as good at biology as she was at math. “The part of your nervous system that controls movement, which sort of halfway makes sense, I guess.” I shrugged. “So, there you go. The ring’s not something I wear. It’s something that wears me. Or we wear each other. What did you want it for?” She looked away. “Nothing. An errand.” I sighed. “Tell me, Jay Kay. Maybe I can help. Is it about a boy?” Jenny just bit her lip. Good enough. The past few months it’s pretty much always been about a boy. I took her hand. Me and Jenny go way back, and whenever I say that, older people laugh, because I’m fifteen and she’s fourteen, and they’re like, you’re too young to even have a “way back.” But I’ve known Jenny since she skipped first grade and ended up in my second-grade class, which means I’ve been her best friend for about half my life, and how many of you old people have a friendship with that kind of percentage? She used to hide me in her basement when things got too bad and I ran away from home, and she’s the reason I’ve never failed a math or science [...] Podcasts Tim Pratt no no http://escapepod.org/2011/06/30/plus_or_minus/ http://escapepod.org/2011/06/30/plus_or_minus/#comments Thu, 30 Jun 2011 16:00:53 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2386 http://escapepod.org/2011/06/30/plus_or_minus/feed/ 0 1:20:10 By James Patrick Kelly Read by: Christiana Ellis Originally appearing in Asimov’s Discuss on our forums. All stories by James Patrick Kelly All stories read by Christiana Ellis Nominated for the Hugo Award for Novelette, 2011 Rated appropriate[...] By James Patrick Kelly Read by: Christiana Ellis Originally appearing in Asimov’s Discuss on our forums. All stories by James Patrick Kelly All stories read by Christiana Ellis Nominated for the Hugo Award for Novelette, 2011 Rated appropriate for older teens and up for sexual situations and violence. Plus Or Minus By James Patrick Kelly Everything changed once Beep found out that Mariska’s mother was the famous Natalya Volochkova.   Mariska’s life aboard the Shining Legend went immediately from bad to awful.  Even before he singled her out, she had decided that there was no way she’d be spending the rest of her teen years crewing on an asteroid bucket.  Once Beep started persecuting her, she began counting down the remaining days of the run as if she were a prisoner.  She tried explaining that she had no use for Natalya Volochkova, who had never been much of a mother to her, but Beep wouldn’t hear it.  He didn’t care that Mariska had only signed on to the Shining Legend to get back at her mother for ruining her life. Somehow that hadn’t worked out quite the way she had planned. For example, there was crud duty.  With a twisting push Mariska sailed into the command module, caught herself on a handrail, and launched toward the starboard wall.  The racks of  instrument screens chirped and beeped and buzzed; command was one of the loudest mods on the ship.  She stuck her landing in front of navigation rack and her slippers caught on the deck burrs, anchoring her in the ship’s  .0006 gravity.   Sure enough, she could see new smears of mold growing from the crack where the nav screen fit into the wall.  This was Beep’s fault, although he would never admit it.  He kept the humidity jacked up in Command, said that dry air gave him nosebleeds.  Richard FiveFord claimed they came from all the drugs Beep sniffed but Mariska didn’t want to believe that.  Also Beep liked to sip his coffee from a cup instead sucking it out of a bag, even though he slopped all the time.  Fungi loved the sugary spatters.  She sniffed one particularly vile looking smear of mold.  It smelled faintly like the worms she used to grow back home on the Moon.  She wiped her nose with the sleeve of her jersey and reached to the holster on her belt for her sponge. As she scrubbed, the bitter vinegar tang of disinfectant gel filled the mod.  Not for the first time, she told herself that this job stunk. She felt the tingle of Richard FiveFord offering a mindfeed and opened her head.  =What?= His feed made a pleasant fizz behind her eyes, distracting her. =You done any time soon?=  Distraction was Richard’s specialty =No.= =Didit is making a dream for us.= She slapped her sponge at the wall in frustration.  =This sucks.=  Mariska couldn’t remember the last time Didit or Richard FiveFord had pulled crud duty. =Should we wait for you?= =If you want.=  But she knew they wouldn’t. =Might be another hour.= “You’re working, Volochkova.” Beep’s voice crackled over the loudspeaker.  One of his quirks was snooping their private feeds and then yelling at them over the ship’s com. “Yes, sir,” she said.  Beep liked to be called sir.  It made him feel like the captain of the Shining Legend instead of senior monkey of its maintenance crew. “She’s working, FiveFord.  Leave our sweet young thing alone.” She felt Richard’s feed pop like a bubble.  He was more afraid of Beep than she was even though the old crank hardly ever bullied Richard.  Mariska hated being called sweet young thing.  She wasn’t sweet and she wasn’t all that young.  She was already fifteen in conscious years, eighteen if you counted the time she had hibernated. When Mariska finished wiping the wall down, she paused at the navigation rack.  She let her gaze blur until all she saw was meaningless shimmer of green and blue light.  Not that she understood the rack much better once she focused again.  She had been job shadowing Beep for 410 million kilometers and eleven months now.  They had travelled all the w[...] Best-Of, Podcasts James Patrick Kelly no no http://escapepod.org/2011/06/29/ep296-for-want-of-a-nail/ http://escapepod.org/2011/06/29/ep296-for-want-of-a-nail/#comments Wed, 29 Jun 2011 12:09:38 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2297 http://escapepod.org/2011/06/29/ep296-for-want-of-a-nail/feed/ 0 0:51:25 By Mary Robinette Kowal Read by: Mur Lafferty Originally appearing in Asimov’s Discuss on our forums. All stories by Mary Robinette Kowal All stories read by Mur Lafferty Nominated for the Hugo Award for Short Story, 2011 Rated appropriate for[...] By Mary Robinette Kowal Read by: Mur Lafferty Originally appearing in Asimov’s Discuss on our forums. All stories by Mary Robinette Kowal All stories read by Mur Lafferty Nominated for the Hugo Award for Short Story, 2011 Rated appropriate for teens and up for language. For Want of a Nail By Mary Robinette Kowal With one hand, Rava adjusted the VR interface glasses where they bit into the bridge of her nose, while she kept her other hand buried in Cordelia’s innards. There was scant room to get the flexible shaft of a mono-lens and her hand through the access hatch in the AI’s chassis. From the next compartment, drums and laughter bled through the plastic walls of the ship, indicating her sister’s conception party was still in full swing. With only a single camera attached, the interface glasses didn’t give Rava depth perception as she struggled to replug the transmitter cable. The chassis had not been designed to need repair. At all. It had been designed to last hundreds of years without an upgrade. If Rava couldn’t get the cable plugged in and working, Cordelia wouldn’t be able to download backups of herself to her long-term memory. She couldn’t store more than a week at a time in active memory. It would be the same as a slow death sentence. The square head of the cable slipped out of Rava’s fingers. Again. “Dammit!” She slammed her heel against the ship’s floor in frustration. “If you can’t do it, let someone else try.” Her older brother, Ludoviko, had insisted on following her out of the party as if he could help. “You know, this would go a lot faster if you weren’t breathing down my neck.” “You know, you wouldn’t be doing this at all if you hadn’t dropped her.” Rava resisted the urge to pull the mono-lens out of the jack in her glasses and glare at him. He might have gotten better marks in school, but she was the AI’s wrangler. “Why don’t you go back to the party and see if you can learn something about fertility?” She lifted the cable head and tried one more time. “Why, you little—” Rage choked his voice, more than she had expected from a random slam. She made a guess that his appeal to the repro-council didn’t go well. Cordelia’s voice cut in, stopping what he was going to say. “It’s not Rava’s fault. I did ask her to pick me up.” “Yeah.” Rava focused on the cable, trying to get it aligned. “Right.” Ludoviko snorted. “And then you dropped yourself.” Cordelia sighed and Rava could almost imagine breath tickling her skin. “If you’re going to blame anyone, blame Branson Conchord for running into her.” Rava didn’t bother answering. They’d been having the same conversation for the last hour and Cordelia should know darn well what Ludoviko’s answer would be. Like programming, he said, “It was irresponsible. She should have said no. The room was full of intoxicated, rowdy people and you are too valuable an asset.” Rava rested her head against the smooth wood side of the AI’s chassis and closed her eyes, ignoring her brother and the flat picture in her goggles. Her fingers rolled the slick plastic head of the cable, building a picture in her mind of the white square and the flat gold cord stretching from it. She slid the cable forward until it jarred against the socket. Rotating the head, Rava focused all her attention on the tiny clues of friction vibrating up her arm. This was a simple, comprehensible problem. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if she couldn’t repair the damage. Being unable to download her old memories meant Cordelia would have to delete herself bit by bit to keep functioning. All because Rava had asked if she wanted to dance. At least Ludoviko hadn’t heard that part of the accident. Rava rotated the head a fraction more and felt that sweet moment of alignment. As she pushed the head forward, the pins slid into their sockets, as if they were taunting her with the ease of the connection. The head thunked into place. “Oh, yes. That’s good.” She opened her eyes to the gorgeous vision o[...] Podcasts Mary Robinette Kowal no no http://escapepod.org/2011/06/16/ep297-amaryllis/ http://escapepod.org/2011/06/16/ep297-amaryllis/#comments Fri, 17 Jun 2011 00:42:46 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2327 http://escapepod.org/2011/06/16/ep297-amaryllis/feed/ 0 0:47:21 By Carrie Vaughn Read by: Gabrielle De Cuir Originally appearing in Lightspeed Discuss on our forums. All stories by Carrie Vaughn All stories read by Gabrielle De Cuir Nominated for the Hugo Award for Short Story, 2011 Rated appropriate for all you[...] By Carrie Vaughn Read by: Gabrielle De Cuir Originally appearing in Lightspeed Discuss on our forums. All stories by Carrie Vaughn All stories read by Gabrielle De Cuir Nominated for the Hugo Award for Short Story, 2011 Rated appropriate for all young teens and up for reproductive concerns. Amaryllis By Carrie Vaughn I never knew my mother, and I never understood why she did what she did. I ought to be grateful that she was crazy enough to cut out her implant so she could get pregnant. But it also meant she was crazy enough to hide the pregnancy until termination wasn’t an option, knowing the whole time that she’d never get to keep the baby. That she’d lose everything. That her household would lose everything because of her. I never understood how she couldn’t care. I wondered what her family thought when they learned what she’d done, when their committee split up the household, scattered them—broke them, because of her. Did she think I was worth it? # It was all about quotas. “They’re using cages up north, I heard. Off shore, anchored,” Nina said. “Fifty feet across—twice as much protein grown with half the resources, and we’d never have to touch the wild population again. We could double our quota.” I hadn’t really been listening to her. We were resting, just for a moment; she sat with me on the railing at the prow of Amaryllis and talked about her big plans. Wind pulled the sails taut and the fiberglass hull cut through waves without a sound, we sailed so smooth. Garrett and Sun hauled up the nets behind us, dragging in the catch. Amaryllis was elegant, a 30-foot sleek vessel with just enough cabin and cargo space—an antique but more than seaworthy. She was a good boat, with a good crew. The best. “Marie—” Nina said, pleading. I sighed and woke up. “We’ve been over this. We can’t just double our quota.” “But if we got authorization—” “Don’t you think we’re doing all right as it is?” We had a good crew—we were well fed and not exceeding our quotas; I thought we’d be best off not screwing all that up. Not making waves, so to speak. Nina’s big brown eyes filled with tears—I’d said the wrong thing, because I knew what she was really after, and the status quo wasn’t it. “That’s just it,” she said. “We’ve met our quotas and kept everyone healthy for years now. I really think we should try. We can at least ask, can’t we?” The truth was: No, I wasn’t sure we deserved it. I wasn’t sure that kind of responsibility would be worth it. I didn’t want the prestige. Nina didn’t even want the prestige—she just wanted the baby. “It’s out of our hands at any rate,” I said, looking away because I couldn’t bear the intensity of her expression. Pushing herself off the rail, Nina stomped down Amaryllis’ port side to join the rest of the crew hauling in the catch. She wasn’t old enough to want a baby. She was lithe, fit, and golden, running barefoot on the deck, sun-bleached streaks gleaming in her brown hair. Actually, no, she was old enough. She’d been with the house for seven years—she was twenty, now. It hadn’t seemed so long. “Whoa!” Sun called. There was a splash and a thud as something in the net kicked against the hull. He leaned over the side, the muscles along his broad, coppery back flexing as he clung to a net that was about to slide back into the water. Nina, petite next to his strong frame, reached with him. I ran down and grabbed them by the waistbands of their trousers to hold them steady. The fourth of our crew, Garrett, latched a boat hook into the net. Together we hauled the catch onto the deck. We’d caught something big, heavy, and full of powerful muscles. We had a couple of aggregators—large buoys made of scrap steel and wood—anchored fifty miles or so off the coast. Schooling fish were attracted to the aggregators, and we found the fish—mainly mackerel, sardines, sablefish, and whiting. An occasional shark or marlin found its way into the nets, but those we let go; they were rare and outside our quotas. That was what I[...] Podcasts Carrie Vaughn no no http://escapepod.org/2011/06/02/ep295-disarm/ http://escapepod.org/2011/06/02/ep295-disarm/#comments Thu, 02 Jun 2011 17:52:21 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2260 http://escapepod.org/2011/06/02/ep295-disarm/feed/ 0 0:31:41 By Vylar Kaftan Read by: Mat Weller Originally appearing in Abyss and Apex – Read it now! Discuss on our forums. All stories by Vylar Kaftan All stories read by Mat Weller Rated appropriate for teens and up – mild sexual situations, ligh[...] By Vylar Kaftan Read by: Mat Weller Originally appearing in Abyss and Apex – Read it now! Discuss on our forums. All stories by Vylar Kaftan All stories read by Mat Weller Rated appropriate for teens and up – mild sexual situations, light battle description. We kept in touch through the war, when he messaged me about marching through upstate New York. He always started the same way: “Dear Ryan, Please come kick my commanding officer in the balls.” Then he’d tell me about the latest mess–cracks in their radiation suits, or toxic waterholes that were supposed to be clear. He never got in trouble for the messages; they needed him too badly. My epilepsy disqualified me from the draft, which probably saved my life. Pretty boys like me weren’t exactly Army material. By the time things were bad enough that they needed any warm body, there wasn’t enough human government left to organize a draft. The ruins at Binghamton were where Trey got sick. By the time I got across the country to him, he’d recovered–well, as much as possible. I remember the doctor’s face as he says Trey will live, but he’ll be in pain. Podcasts Vylar Kaftan no no http://escapepod.org/2011/05/19/ep293-a-small-matter-really/ http://escapepod.org/2011/05/19/ep293-a-small-matter-really/#comments Fri, 20 May 2011 03:59:56 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2179 http://escapepod.org/2011/05/19/ep293-a-small-matter-really/feed/ 0 0:28:57 By Monte Cook Read by: Mur Lafferty An Escape Pod original! Discuss on our forums. All stories by Monte Cook All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated PG for violence A Small Matter, Really By Monte Cook Only the Catholic Church of Osirus would have [...] By Monte Cook Read by: Mur Lafferty An Escape Pod original! Discuss on our forums. All stories by Monte Cook All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated PG for violence A Small Matter, Really By Monte Cook Only the Catholic Church of Osirus would have enough money to afford not one, but two black holes. Standing within the majestic narthex, Maria McNaki imagined the vibration of complex machinery under her feet, despite the fact that the nanosensors laced into her flesh revealed nothing other than the passing of the people in the crowd and the chanting coming from deeper within the cathedral. The stone walls of the chamber slowly flowed with a liquid relief of gothic circuitry and religious hieroglyphic animations. The glyph depicting Setan as he tore the crucified Osirus-Christ into tiny fragments malfunctioned and remained static. Just as well. The petitioners around her made carefully devout hand signs over their hearts as they faced the ankh crucifix over the door into the sanctuary. Religion was back in fashion this season. Three identical priests stood next to the holy water fonts, welcoming the incoming congregation. Their white collars and black robes stood starched-still. Geneticists form-shaped all Catholic-Osirus priests into the gentle, fatherly form selected by church PR, but these three were special. The bright eyes and the shining hair indicated Aesthicel, the most expensive genengineering firm in the Earth system. This parish liked to spend money. Perfect. That most likely meant that they were interested in obtaining more. Terrence told her that the facility lay underneath the cathedral. Maria made her way past the incoming worshipers as quickly and politely as she could. Stout-of-Heart mewled behind her, trying to keep up. The alien’s appearance disturbed a few in the crowd, and Maria realized that bringing him might not have been the best idea after all. The four-foot, shaggy bramagian bore the minder headband that marked him as a trained urban bodyguard, but his claws and tusks still instilled fear in many humans. The headband also allowed the creature to access a private data field that existed only between the two of them. Through it, Maria could communicate with him. Nevertheless, she preferred it much better when Piotr had tended to the bramagian. “Lord, what is this place?” Stout-of-Heart asked her. She hated being called Lord, but the bramagians were so fiercely misogynistic that it was best if they thought of all humans as male. Maria had no idea how to explain the church to Stout-of-Heart. Bramagians taken by humans from their homeworld already believed that they were in Heaven, walking among the gods. If she told him that the gods also worshipped gods, it might be too much for him. Among the bramagians, madness was a fate worse than death. “Never mind, Stout-of-Heart,” she uploaded into their link. “It’s too difficult to explain.” Her assurances would only work for so long. Although the aliens were happy to be warriors in Heaven, they were intensely curious about everything they encountered there. Elevator doors stood closed to the right of the sanctuary entrance. More boy than man, a guard stood in front of them, arms folded as if he could possibly appear menacing. He wore black robes but no priestly collar and his temple sported a removable receiver implant. Maria knew better than to be deceived by looks. Muscle-augmentation, hidden disrupters or even nanite drones could all be concealed. Instead, she produced her most powerful weapon as she approached the slight guard–a cashstick keyed to more than this man made in a month. He stepped aside with a smile, and the lift doors opened. Maria entered the elevator and whispered “all the way down,” to the man with a smile of her own and a nod. Stout-of-Heart followed her in, and the doors closed. She smoothed her dark blue suit, and ran her hands over her graying black hair. The advantages of wea[...] Podcasts Monte Cook no no http://escapepod.org/2011/05/12/ep292-in-the-water/ http://escapepod.org/2011/05/12/ep292-in-the-water/#comments Thu, 12 May 2011 21:57:26 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2173 http://escapepod.org/2011/05/12/ep292-in-the-water/feed/ 0 0:32:13 By Katherine Mankiller Read by: Kim Gianopoulos Originally appearing in Fictitious Force. Discuss on our forums. All stories by Katherine Mankiller All stories read by Kim Gianopoulos Rated PG In the Water by Katherine Mankiller Yvonne looked up fr[...] By Katherine Mankiller Read by: Kim Gianopoulos Originally appearing in Fictitious Force. Discuss on our forums. All stories by Katherine Mankiller All stories read by Kim Gianopoulos Rated PG In the Water by Katherine Mankiller Yvonne looked up from her monitor, the beads in her cornrows clattering as Roger walked into her office. Roger sat in the dark wooden chair opposite her desk. “Weren’t you assigned Alice van Buuren?” “Oh, no you don’t,” Yvonne said. “You can’t have her.” Yvonne hadn’t been assigned Alice; she’d requested her. Alice was probably the only murder victim’s wife she would ever meet. They hadn’t even put the murder in the papers. Maybe they thought there’d be a panic. “Please,” Roger said. “I’m just trying to save you some trouble. I’ve already spoken to her, and…” Yvonne crossed her arms and glared. “Wouldn’t you raise hell if I talked to one of your patients behind your back?” “She’s refusing modern therapy. What are you going to do, use the old-fashioned techniques your grandmother used?” Roger had a lot of nerve mentioning Grandma. Yvonne glanced at the photo on the corner of her desk. Grandma Jackson had been a big woman, with braids down to her hips and skin like chocolate. Grandma Jackson smiled back at the camera, all reassuring good nature. Roger said, “I think we should just wipe her and have done with it.” “Too bad she’s not your patient,” Yvonne said. “I could take her away from you, you know.” “Don’t you dare!” There was an awkward silence. “It’ll be less confusing for her if I come with you,” Roger said. “Just to hand her off to you. You understand.” “Fine,” Yvonne said. “Whatever.” “Good girl,” Roger said, and Yvonne gritted her teeth. “Room 314.” He stood. “Let’s go.” “Now?” Yvonne said. She picked up her coffee and almost took a sip, then put it down again, making a face. It was cold, and it had been so bitter hot that she’d taken caffeine pills with orange juice instead. Roger snorted. “That bad?” Roger clearly wasn’t going anywhere, so Yvonne stood, picked up her jacket, and followed Roger out of her office. The halls were white to the point of being blinding after her calm, earth-toned office, and reeked of disinfectant. They went upstairs and over to room 314. Roger placed his hand on the identification plate and the door slid open. “Hello, Alice,” Roger said. The patient, a skinny, pale woman with brown hair, backed away from Roger. She reminded Yvonne of someone, although she couldn’t put her finger on whom. The patient fell into a seated position on the bed, mouth open, staring at Yvonne. Before Yvonne could say anything, Roger said, “This is Doctor Jackson. Doctor Jackson, this is Alice.” “We’re not going to hurt you,” Yvonne said. The patient–Alice–stared at Yvonne for a moment, then shut her mouth. She shot Roger a defiant look. “I’ll just leave you to it,” Roger said, and left. “Hello, Alice,” Yvonne said. “You can call me Yvonne if you prefer.” “We’ve met,” Alice said. It wasn’t a question. Alice really did look familiar. “Refresh my memory?” “It doesn’t matter,” Alice said and looked away. There was an uncomfortable silence. Yvonne said, “Dr. Hill said you’re refusing drug therapy.” “I had a negative reaction once,” Alice said. “Really?” Yvonne said. “Usually that’s associated with an interaction with an unapproved drug. You should be fine this time; your blood tests came back clean.” [...] Podcasts Katherine Mankiller no no http://escapepod.org/2011/05/05/ep291-shannons-law/ http://escapepod.org/2011/05/05/ep291-shannons-law/#comments Thu, 05 May 2011 18:03:23 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2160 http://escapepod.org/2011/05/05/ep291-shannons-law/feed/ 0 1:16:25 By Cory Doctorow Read by: Mur Lafferty Originally appearing in Welcome to Bordertown (Available May 24!) Read it at Tor.com. Discuss on our forums. All stories by Cory Doctorow All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated PG: language [Update- HUGE apolo[...] By Cory Doctorow Read by: Mur Lafferty Originally appearing in Welcome to Bordertown (Available May 24!) Read it at Tor.com. Discuss on our forums. All stories by Cory Doctorow All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated PG: language [Update- HUGE apologies for former editing issues on this file. It's fixed now!] When the Way to Bordertown closed, I was only four years old, and I was more interested in peeling the skin off my Tickle Me Elmo to expose the robot lurking inside his furry pelt than I was in networking or even plumbing the unknowable mysteries of Elfland. But a lot can change in thirteen years. When the Way opened again, the day I turned seventeen, I didn’t hesitate. I packed everything I could carry—every scratched phone, every half-assembled laptop, every stick of memory, and every Game Boy I could fit in a duffel bag. I hit the bank with my passport and my ATM card and demanded that they turn over my savings to me, without calling my parents or any other ridiculous delay. They didn’t like it, but “It’s my money, now hand it over” is like a spell for bending bankers to your will. Land rushes. Know about ’em? There’s some piece of land that was off-limits, and the government announces that it’s going to open it up—all you need to do is rush over to it when the cannon goes off, and whatever you can stake out is yours. Used to be that land rushes came along any time the United States decided to break a promise to some Indians and take away their land, and a hundred thousand white men would wait at the starting line to stampede into the “empty lands” and take it over. But more recently, the land rushes have been virtual: The Internet opens up, and whoever gets there first gets to grab all the good stuff. The land rushers in the early days of the Net had the dumbest ideas: online pet food, virtual-reality helmets, Internet-enabled candy delivery services. But they got some major money while the rush was on, before Joe Investor figured out how to tell a good idea from a redonkulous one. Podcasts Cory Doctorow no no http://escapepod.org/2011/04/22/ep289-flash-contest-honorable-mentions/ http://escapepod.org/2011/04/22/ep289-flash-contest-honorable-mentions/#comments Fri, 22 Apr 2011 20:47:08 +0000 Bill Peters http://escapepod.org/?p=2109 http://escapepod.org/2011/04/22/ep289-flash-contest-honorable-mentions/feed/ 0 0:00:01 This episode has three of the honorable mentions from the flash contest we held on our forums. You can, perhaps unsurprisingly, discuss this episode on our forums. Rated PG for some naughty language in Many Mistakes. Episode 37 – Captain Max S[...] This episode has three of the honorable mentions from the flash contest we held on our forums. You can, perhaps unsurprisingly, discuss this episode on our forums. Rated PG for some naughty language in Many Mistakes. Episode 37 – Captain Max Stone versus DESTRUCTOBOT! By Angela Lee Read by: Joshua McNichols When last we left our heroes, Captain Max Stone and his brother Billy had just navigated Hyperion’s perilous asteroid field and battled their way into the fortified base of the villainous robot Destructobot. The dastardly robot’s latest scheme is the deadliest yet – he intends to destroy the Earth using a high-powered negabomb! Will Max stop Destructobot in time? Or will the earth be vaporized? Many Mistakes, All Out of Order By M.C. Wagner Read by: Wilson Fowlie The first mistake was in our thinking they were ghosts. In our defense, the tradition of vanishing, translucent figures wailing in the night might’ve influenced us. Mr. Omega By Arnold Gardner Read By: Marshall Latham Mr. Omega checked the time on his trans-dimensional pocket watch and stared out the taxi’s rain pelted window. Four minutes to midnight. Four minutes to the culmination of his life’s work. Flash, Podcasts Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2011/04/07/ep287-a-taste-of-time/ http://escapepod.org/2011/04/07/ep287-a-taste-of-time/#comments Thu, 07 Apr 2011 21:00:14 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=2051 http://escapepod.org/2011/04/07/ep287-a-taste-of-time/feed/ 0 0:33:05 By Abby Goldsmith Read by: Mur Lafferty Originally published in Deep Magic, May 2004 Discuss on our forums. All stories by Abby Goldsmith All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated PG: references to infidelity Show Notes: No feedback this week because [...] By Abby Goldsmith Read by: Mur Lafferty Originally published in Deep Magic, May 2004 Discuss on our forums. All stories by Abby Goldsmith All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated PG: references to infidelity Show Notes: No feedback this week because of site issues! Next week… don’t drink the water. A Taste of Time by Abby Goldsmith 1. On the night she turned twenty-nine, Jane sat on her narrow bed, watching TV and drinking alone. She’d gone through a bottle of wine and was mostly through a second bottle. Tomorrow morning would be painful. Or she could stop worrying about tomorrow. The ibuprofen in her cabinet kept popping into her mind. Jane wasn’t sure if all those pills chased by alcohol would be enough to end her life, but the idea of looking up how to commit suicide online seemed just too pathetic. The front door of her tiny apartment creaked open. Jane leaned forward, peering through her bedroom doorway. A black wine bottle stood on the floor, with a placard dangling from its silver ribbon. Her gaze immediately went to the deadbolt. It was in place, as she’d left it. Jane shut the TV off and listened for noises from the hallway. All she heard were the sounds of Boston traffic outside. Several weeks ago, after she’d come home to find her boyfriend screwing a fat chick on her couch, she’d had the locks changed. No one could have gotten in. Yet the bottle sat mysteriously on the wooden floor. At last, Jane crossed her apartment, checking every shadow for an intruder. She picked up the bottle. The placard had gilded letters, making it a potentially expensive gift. Tabula Rasa Warning: There Is No Return Jane flipped the placard over twice, but nothing else was written on it. She listened, alert for any noise. Mystery had never been much a part of her adult life, and it gave her a strangely excited feeling. If the warning label meant something like _poison_, it seemed like a more dignified way to go than pills and alcohol. Her reflection on the black surface of the bottle was disturbingly clear. There she was: Plain Jane, a frumpy woman with a double-chin and acne scars. She unscrewed the cap and popped the foil underneath. A stringent smell wafted up, making her wrinkle her nose and salivate at the same time. “Happy birthday, Jane,” she told herself, and swallowed a mouthful. Read More—> 2. Jane gagged on the sour taste in her mouth. She was so dizzy, she’d fallen . . . but she was sitting in an office chair, with no memory whatsoever of leaving her dark and quiet apartment. Florescent lights beat down on her, and the familiar voices of a call center surrounded her. None of this was possible. She was back at her old workplace. It was a workday, late afternoon, judging by the angle of light. Ultimata Insurance had laid her off months ago, yet here she was. A man rapped his knuckles against Jane’s desk. “I gave you the files you needed, right?” Her old boss, Moore, didn’t bother to wait for a reply. He was always in a hurry. Jane barely started to nod before he rushed away. The walls of her cubicle looked exactly the way she remembered. There was the photograph of herself and mom. There was the generic Ultimata calendar, flipped to October 2009 . . . Jane double-checked the year. 2009 was a full two years before the company downsized. If this was October 2009, then she was still employed. And still dating the jerk, Aaron. Her fists tightened, and she realized that her hand was clamped around the black wine bottle. She might lose her job more quickly this time, if they saw that. She hid it beneath her desk. “Jane!” Jane swiveled to face Stephanie, who worked in the cubicle across from hers. Stephanie was slim with bouncy golden hair, and never deigned to speak to plain Jane. Stephanie hurried across into Jane’s cubicle, giving a sneaky look both ways before crossing. She beamed at Jane. [...] Podcasts Abby Goldsmith no no http://escapepod.org/2011/03/17/ep284-conspiracy/ http://escapepod.org/2011/03/17/ep284-conspiracy/#comments Thu, 17 Mar 2011 18:35:15 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=1965 http://escapepod.org/2011/03/17/ep284-conspiracy/feed/ 0 0:00:01 By Desmond Warzel Read by: Joshua McNichols Originally published in SFReader Discuss on our forums. All stories by Desmond Warzel All stories read by Joshua McNichols Rated PG: This story contains a real obnoxious dude. Show Notes: Feedback for Ep[...] By Desmond Warzel Read by: Joshua McNichols Originally published in SFReader Discuss on our forums. All stories by Desmond Warzel All stories read by Joshua McNichols Rated PG: This story contains a real obnoxious dude. Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 276 Next week… The hopes and dreams of a child, and her pet. On a Clear Day You can See All the Way to Conspiracy by Desmond Warzel You’re listening to the Mike Colavito Show on Cleveland’s home for straight talk, WCUY 1200. The opinions expressed on this program do not reflect those of WCUY, its management, or its sponsors. Fair warning; I’m in a mood today, folks. We’ve got a mayor whose only talent seems to be showing up at luncheons and waving at the cameras. Eighty bucks I had to pay yesterday for not wearing my seatbelt. Show me the seatbelts on a school bus. I saw a Cleveland athlete on national TV last night wearing a Yankees cap. And every day I get at least a dozen calls from schmucks who think that people like me are the problem in this city. Tell me America’s not falling apart. [pause] And some of you people–including our programming director, by the way–seem to think I’m running my mouth too much and not taking enough phone calls. I’ve only been number one in radio in this city for ten straight years; what would I know? You want calls? You got ‘em. Steven in Mayfield Heights, you’re on the air. “Hey, what’s up, Mike?” The rent. Art in Seven Hills, you’re on WCUY. “How you doing, Mike. Just wondering if you caught that ball game last night?” No. Andrea in Rocky River, go ahead. “Hi, Mike, first-time caller.” Well, call back tomorrow and you’ll be a second-time caller. Carol in Cleveland, what’s on your mind? “Mike, what do you think of waterboarding?” My wife and I waterboard all the time, and it’s improved our sex life dramatically. Chuck in Parma, you’re on the air. “Hey, Mike, I heard your show yesterday, and I was just wondering, if you know so much about football, why you don’t take over as head coach of the Browns?” I wouldn’t want to take the pay cut. Mina in Lakewood, you’re on the air. “Does your wife think that waterboarding crack was funny?” Play your cards right some night and you could find out for yourself, Mina. Tommy in Beachwood, you’re on WCUY. “Hi, Mike, just wondering who you think the Indians should try and trade for next year.” Your mother. Jane in Euclid, go ahead. [pause] Read More… Looks like we lost Jane in Euclid. Must have answered her question already. That’s all right; we got in seven callers in under a minute. Everyone happy now? Hey, Jake, I have to take a breather; do the traffic. What? Oh, yeah. This traffic is brought to you by West Side Hardware. Thanks, Mike. Not much happening right now; 480, 271, and 77 are all clear, but traffic on the Shoreway is backed up in both directions, so our listeners might want to allow a few extra minutes if they’re headed that way. For West Side Hardware, this has been your WCUY traffic report on Cleveland’s home for straight talk. Hey, Jake, don’t go yet. You still there? I gotta take the Shoreway home after the show. Any idea what the holdup is? Can’t say, Mike; no accidents, just a general slowdown all along the lakeshore. Wonderful. And people wonder why I’m always giving the mayor grief. Straightest stretch of highway in America, and traffic still won’t move. Somebody on the Shoreway, call in and tell me what the hell’s going on over there. Franklin in Cleveland, you’re on the air. “What’s up, Mike? You gonna let me talk?” Don’t worry, it’s all out of my system. The floor’s yours. “Well, you’re entitled to your opinion about the mayor, but come on, man, how you gonna [...] Featured, Podcasts Desmond Warzel no no http://escapepod.org/2011/02/11/ep279-conditional-love/ http://escapepod.org/2011/02/11/ep279-conditional-love/#comments Fri, 11 Feb 2011 18:32:23 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=1860 http://escapepod.org/2011/02/11/ep279-conditional-love/feed/ 0 0:43:16 By: Felicity Shoulders Read by: Mur Lafferty Originally published in Asimov’s, Jan 2010 issue Discuss on our forums. All stories by Felicity Shoulders All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated PG-13: Swearing and disturbing hospital images Show [...] By: Felicity Shoulders Read by: Mur Lafferty Originally published in Asimov’s, Jan 2010 issue Discuss on our forums. All stories by Felicity Shoulders All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated PG-13: Swearing and disturbing hospital images Show Notes: Serious apologies – circumstances this week had me recording later than usual. Feedback for Episode 271 Next week… A longer piece by Blake Charlton The new patient was five or six years old, male, Caucasian, John Doe as usual.  Grace checked the vitals his bed sensors were feeding her board and concluded he was asleep.  She eased the door of 408 open and stepped in. The boy’s head was tilted on his pillow, brown curls cluttering his forehead.  Sleep had flushed his cheeks so he looked younger than the estimate.  He seemed healthy, with no visible deformities, and if he had been opted for looks, it had worked—Grace would have described him as ‘cherubic’.  He wouldn’t have been dumped if nothing was wrong, so Grace found herself stepping softly, unwilling to disturb him and discover psychological conditions. “Don’t worry about waking him, he sleeps pretty deep.” Grace started and turned to the other bed.  “Hi, Minnie.” The girl grimaced.  “I go by my full name now, Dr. Steller.”  Grace brought up her board to refresh her memory, but the girl said, “Minerva.  Had you forgotten they’re doubling up rooms?” “Yep, you caught me.” “Is the rise in numbers caused by a rise in opting?  Or is it a rise in surrenders, or arrests of parents?” “Lord, Minn—Minerva, I don’t know.  Planning to be a reporter when you grow up?” “No, a scientist,” Minerva said and smiled, pleased to be asked. “Why the scalpel-edged questions then?” “Just curious if my campaign had had any effect,” Minerva said, nodding toward the window.  The billboard across from the Gene-Engineered Pediatric Inpatient Center flashed a smog warning, then a PSA about eye strain from computer visors, but Grace remembered when it had borne a static image:  Minnie, one year old, a pink sundress exposing the stubs of her arms and legs.  _Babies should be born, not made._  The ad had stayed up until Minnie was eight, three years after her parents turned her over to GEPIC, and apparently she had seen it.  She was twelve now, with serious eyes and a loose ponytail, dark blonde. Podcasts Felicity Shoulders no no http://escapepod.org/2011/02/03/ep278-written-on-the-wind/ http://escapepod.org/2011/02/03/ep278-written-on-the-wind/#comments Thu, 03 Feb 2011 22:09:41 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=1832 http://escapepod.org/2011/02/03/ep278-written-on-the-wind/feed/ 0 0:00:01 By: David D. Levine Read by: Mur Lafferty Originally published in Beyond the Last Star Discuss on our forums. All stories by David D. Levine All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated PG: Talk of war elsewhere. Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 270 Nex[...] By: David D. Levine Read by: Mur Lafferty Originally published in Beyond the Last Star Discuss on our forums. All stories by David D. Levine All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated PG: Talk of war elsewhere. Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 270 Next week… A groovy strange kind of love Written on the Wind by David D. Levine Thuren Nektopk peered down at Luulianni from above his massive desk. “I suspect you know why I’ve called you to speak with me in person.” He spoke in his native language, Ptopku Dominant, using the form of address for a subordinate or a child. It was a constant reminder that the Ptopku had built and largely staffed this station, and was one of the most powerful species in the Consortium. “Yes, Supervisor,” Luulianni replied in the same language, knotting her tentacles. “And that would be…?” “Because of my side project.” “Yes.” Nektopk suddenly released the bar from which he hung, caught himself on another handhold, and with two swift strokes of his arms swung down to where his six slitted eyes were level with Luulianni’s. “Your little side project.” Luulianni cringed. “I don’t understand why it’s so much of a problem.” She straightened and tried to meet his gaze. “I put in my full quota of time every day.” “Yes, you do, and not one moment more. But I know you are capable of so much more than that. Any work you do on this pointless little side project of yours constitutes theft of resources from the Section — from the whole Project!” “Theft?” she squeaked. Angry at herself for the loss of control, she brought her voice down. “Theft of resources? But I don’t use any data storage space, or any other Section resources! I write my notes on the backs of old printouts.” She did not mention how much more natural it felt to work on paper. “You are stealing the most valuable resource of all!” Nektopk pointed at her with one limber foot. “Your own time and attention!” “But it’s my time!” “You have been sent here by your people — at considerable expense, I might add — to assist in the Project, to learn the ways of the Consortium, and to demonstrate your species’ unique skills.” He leaned closer to her. His smell was bitter. “And if I find that your species, as represented by yourself, does not demonstrate any unique skills, your application for Consortium membership could very well be denied.” He swung himself up to the edge of his desk, the better to glare down at her. “Therefore, your time is not your own. You owe it to the Section, to the Project, and to your own people to put every bit of available time into your assigned task.” Luulianni hung her head. “Yes, Supervisor.” “You may return to your work.” “Thank you, Supervisor.” Read More… # Luulianni’s scales prickled with anger as she made her way back to her workspace. If she was to demonstrate her unique skills, why did he not listen to her ideas? And if her time was so valuable, why did Nektopk insist that she come to his office, halfway across the station, rather than using the screen? She straightened her shoulders and forced herself to walk down the middle of the corridor. The Muuli were a burrowing species; her instinct was to cling to the wall, to hide from the harsh, bluish light and the Ptopku swinging from handhold to handhold far above. Luulianni consoled herself that some day her people would build their own stations in space, with low ceilings and narrow corridors. They would be dark, and warm, and smell of dirt and of many long-nosed Muuli. But that day was a long time away. And if she didn’t prove herself here, it might never come. She knew she was one of the best linguists of her s[...] Podcasts David D. Levine no no http://escapepod.org/2011/01/27/ep277/ http://escapepod.org/2011/01/27/ep277/#comments Fri, 28 Jan 2011 02:13:04 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=1809 http://escapepod.org/2011/01/27/ep277/feed/ 1 0:31:41 By: Eric James Stone Read by: Kij Johnson Originally published in Analog, 2010 Discuss on our forums. All stories by Eric James Stone All stories read by Kij Johnson Rated PG: For violence. Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 269: Élan Vital Next we[...] By: Eric James Stone Read by: Kij Johnson Originally published in Analog, 2010 Discuss on our forums. All stories by Eric James Stone All stories read by Kij Johnson Rated PG: For violence. Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 269: Élan Vital Next week… Linguistics… in space. Rejiggering the Thingamajig by Eric James Stone The teleport terminal had not been built with tyrannosaurus sapiens in mind. Resisting the urge to knock human-sized chairs about with her tail, Bokeerk squatted on the tile floor, folded the claws of her forelimbs together, and concentrated on her breathing. Meditation would calm her nerves. What should have been a two-minute waystop as she switched to a different teleport line had stretched to three hours, and being the only passenger in the terminal creeped her out. The cheerful voice of the customer service AI roused Bokeerk from her trance. “It is my pleasure to inform you that the cause of the technical difficulties in the galactic teleport network has been found.” Bokeerk perked up and rose on her hind legs, remembering just in time to duck her head so it wouldn’t bang the ceiling lamps. “Please send me to Krawlak,” she said. It was unlikely that any of her eggs would hatch for another few days yet, but she was anxious to get home. “It is with the utmost regret that I must tell you that will not be possible at this time,” said the AI, with a tone of such abysmal sorrow that Bokeerk’s eyes could not help but moisten with sympathetic tears. “I require assistance in repairing the problem.” Bokeerk lowered herself into a squat again. “When will help get here?” She looked at the time display on the digital assistant strapped to her left forelimb. She had now been stranded for three hours and fifty-two minutes. “I estimate a spaceship carrying a repair crew could be here within twelve years,” said the AI. Its voice seemed to have lost the customer service aspect. Read More… “Twelve years?” Bokeerk’s voice made the ceiling lamps tremble. “Without the teleport network, repair crews are limited to slower-than-light travel. However, I believe we can avoid such a long wait if you will assist me.” “I don’t know anything about repairing teleports,” said Bokeerk. “Iillustrate children’s books. I’m on my way home from the Galactic Children’s Book Fair.” “You do not need to repair anything,” said the AI. “You merely need to obtain the . . . there’s no word for it in English because it is a concept so far beyond the understanding of biological intelligences that there has never been a need for one until now. Let’s call it the thingamajig. Once you have the thingamajig, you need to do something to it that is completely incomprehensible to your puny mind.” “Hey,” said Bokeerk. She had encountered this kind of prejudice too often. “My brain may be as small as that of an original tyrannosaurus, but it’s the product of genetic tinkering such that my intelligence is at least human standard.” “No slur was intended. By my standards, any biological intelligence is puny.” “So I just need to do something incomprehensible to the thingamajig, and the teleport network will be fixed?” “Yes.” “Show me where it is,” Bokeerk said. A holographic projection of a world appeared. It zoomed in toward a green area on one of the continents until it showed a gray dome in the middle of a jungle. “This is the teleport station where you are currently located,” said the AI. The image zoomed out until the dome was merely a gray dot. A crimson line traced a route toward a lone mountain, where it stopped with a large dot. “You must travel to the top of this extinct volcano, where you will find the thingamajig.[...] Podcasts Eric James Stone no no http://escapepod.org/2011/01/13/ep275-schrodingers-cat-lady/ http://escapepod.org/2011/01/13/ep275-schrodingers-cat-lady/#comments Thu, 13 Jan 2011 22:06:09 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=1735 http://escapepod.org/2011/01/13/ep275-schrodingers-cat-lady/feed/ 0 0:29:22 By: Marjorie James Read by: Mur Lafferty An Escape Pod original! Discuss on our forums. All stories by Marjorie James All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated PG: For quantum theory and brief violent description. Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 266[...] By: Marjorie James Read by: Mur Lafferty An Escape Pod original! Discuss on our forums. All stories by Marjorie James All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated PG: For quantum theory and brief violent description. Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 266: Kachikachi Yama Next week… Rejiggering stuff Schrödinger’s Cat Lady By Marjorie James I got out of the car, smoothed my shirt down over my bulletproof vest, and contemplated the cats. They contemplated me right back. I sighed. I hated these jobs. I opened the tiny gate to the front walk (no fence, just a gate) and made my way to the door. The house was small and tidy, a light blue bungalow with green trim and yellow curtains pulled across the windows, through which the cats were peering. It didn’t smell, which was a relief. And something of a surprise, considering the heat. It was one of those days when the world seemed to be actively rejecting human habitation, where the smog and the humidity made the air feel like warm mayonnaise. On a day like this, a cat overpopulation should be stinking to high heaven. Maybe this wasn’t for real, I hoped. It might just be some neighbor with a grudge. Couldn’t be more than a dozen cats here, max. Maybe this one wasn’t going to be that bad. I have never been very good at predicting things. Read More… I knocked, and waited. A few minutes later there was the sound of multiple locks being unfastened, then some more, then an abortive attempt to open the door, then one last, forgotten bolt sliding back. The door opened and I was confronted by the smallest person I had ever met. The woman wouldn’t have cleared five feet without some impressive shoes and a generous hand with the measuring tape and her hands and face (the only parts of her that were visible from under the intricate layers of scarves and sweaters) were narrow and delicate. She looked up at me with what seemed to be genuine pleasure. “Yes? How can I help you?” “Good morning, ma’am. I’m Lieutenant Eleanor Ross from Animal Welfare. Can I talk with you for a moment?” Sweat was pouring off me and pooling where my bulletproof vest squeezed against my back. I tried to subtly adjust the vest and the sweat streamed down my butt. I grimaced, and the woman noticed. She smiled. “Are you afraid I’m going to shoot at you?” I smiled back. “Department policy. Everyone has to wear them, at all times.” “I think that’s wise. After all, you never know. I might have shot at you. Would you like to come in?” I thanked her and followed her into the house. It was a modest bungalow, indistinguishable from every other house on the block, aside from the paint job and the total lack of flowers in the yard. Which is why the interior came as something of a surprise. The door led to an ordinary entryway—a pair of wooden clogs on the tiled floor, a small table scattered with junk mail. But just beyond that the room opened up into something I could best describe as the bastard child of a hunting lodge and a picture I had seen once of an artist’s rendition of a Roman baths, only without the naked people. There were no people at all, in fact, aside from myself and the woman, but there was a very large quantity of cats. They were everywhere, pouring out of alcoves and off of furniture—some even seemed to come straight out of the walls—and there seemed to be plenty of space for all of them. In fact, there was more than enough space, far more than was possible, given the apparent dimensions of the house. It occurred to me that I might be suffering from heatstroke. “I’m sorry to bother you Mrs. . . .” I looked down at my notes, which were nothing but an illegible scribble. “Oh, call me Mrs. S. Everyone does. And it’s no bother, no bother at all. I get so few guests these days, and it does get lonely, you know, just me and the cats. And you seem like it would do you some good to get out of that heat.” Now that she mentioned it, it was pleasantly cool inside. And not the hard, moisture-sucking coldness [...] Podcasts Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2010/12/30/ep273-deaths-end-to-middleton/ http://escapepod.org/2010/12/30/ep273-deaths-end-to-middleton/#comments Fri, 31 Dec 2010 02:38:33 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=1692 http://escapepod.org/2010/12/30/ep273-deaths-end-to-middleton/feed/ 0 0:00:01 By: Natania Barron Read by: Jason Adams Originally appeared in Crossed Genres Magazine. Discuss on our forums. All stories by Natania Barron All stories read by Jason Adams Rated PG: For monsters and old west excitement. Yee Haw. Show Notes: Feedb[...] By: Natania Barron Read by: Jason Adams Originally appeared in Crossed Genres Magazine. Discuss on our forums. All stories by Natania Barron All stories read by Jason Adams Rated PG: For monsters and old west excitement. Yee Haw. Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 264: St. Darwin’s Spirituals Next week… Happy New Year! Dead’s End to Middleton By Natania Barron Dust rose at the horizon in tongues of earth and wind, dancing before the sinking sun. Bits of mica flashed now and again; almost like fairy dust, thought Nathaniel, more than a little delirious in his saddle by now. It had been far too hot for a breakneck race such as this. But there were slobbering, chittering creatures swarming Middleton behind him, slavering over the horses and terrorizing the families that made up his close-knit community. Their only hope was in him. Sutherland Ranch couldn’t be far. Old Man Sutherland would know what to do. Time was wasting. His horse, Mixup, needed water, and Nathaniel needed rest. His tongue felt cold, his lips cracked and bleeding; he’d gone so far past dizzy that he’d come to expect the world to shift a bit by now. But, no. Maybe not that much. Read More– “Don’t move.” A voice. A woman. It was easy enough to comply. Nathaniel doubted he had the strength to move, anyway; his ankle was still twisted up in the stirrup. So he’d fainted at some point. If he’d had strength in his arms, he’d have held them up, but Nathaniel wasn’t certain what the logistics of surrender were when belly-up to the sky. “He’s hurt,” said a second voice. Another woman, but high and lovely in contrast. Squinting, Nathaniel made out two figures against the pink clouds: big hats, skirts, trim waists, and very long guns. Guns pointed at him. “I’m looking for… Willard Sutherland… I’m from Middleton. We’ve been…” he barely managed the words. The shorter of the two women tilted her head. She got close enough that Nathaniel could hear the flapping of her skirts in the wind. He had a dim recollection of Charity James being dragged off down the alleyway between the saloon and the stables, one shoe off as she struggled and screamed; he could see up her skirt then, all the way to her bloomers. Then… Christ. She hadn’t screamed for long. “Willard Sutherland’s dead,” said the first woman. Nathaniel tried to get a better look at her. Curly red hair, narrow eyes, a flat nose, big boots. “Then, his sons? Edwin and Edward…” Nathaniel tried. “Dead, too.” “Jesus, no.” Blasphemy was the least of his worries. “Afraid so,” said the soft-voiced woman. Nathaniel could see the outline of her slippers by his head. Pretty slippers. Expensive slippers. What slippers like that were doing out here in the middle of nowhere, he didn’t know. “Cassandra. Hush,” said the first woman, putting down her gun and taking a few heavy-footed steps toward him. Cassandra stepped away to let the other woman by, and Nathaniel shivered. He’d found a grain of comfort in the sweetness of Cassandra’s voice, but now that she was gone the severity of the other woman’s words were more clear in his head. His hope was as dead as Charity James. “Then you might as well let me die here,” he said, closing his eyes. “The Sutherlands aren’t all dead,” said the first woman. “But you will be soon if you don’t get some water and shelter.” “You need a bath. You’re covered in, well, some rather offensive smelling ichor,” Cassandra said. That was about right. The creatures had a habit of exploding rather impressively when, and if, they could be killed. “Then perhaps we can talk business,” she added. He licked his lips. “Business? I can’t even start to explain—” “Try us,” said the other woman. “You’ll be surprised.” * There were seven girls all told. The one in boots was Elizabeth, the eldest. Then came Jane, red-haired like Elizabeth but without the curls; after Jane was Lydia, with narrow eyes and white-blond hair. Then Cassandra, the prettiest—petite and bru[...] Podcasts Natania Barron no no http://escapepod.org/2010/12/23/ep272-christmas-wedding/ http://escapepod.org/2010/12/23/ep272-christmas-wedding/#comments Fri, 24 Dec 2010 03:47:35 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=1658 http://escapepod.org/2010/12/23/ep272-christmas-wedding/feed/ 1 0:00:01 By: Vylar Kaftan Read by: Mur Lafferty First appeared in Warrior Wisewoman. Discuss on our forums. All stories by Vylar Kaftan All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated PG: For love at the end of the world. Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 264: St Da[...] By: Vylar Kaftan Read by: Mur Lafferty First appeared in Warrior Wisewoman. Discuss on our forums. All stories by Vylar Kaftan All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated PG: For love at the end of the world. Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 264: St Darwin’s Spirituals Merry Christmas! Today was a perfect day, with three flaws.  It was snowing here in Miami, one of her brides had trouble recognizing her, and her cummerbund wouldn’t stay up.  The cummerbund was the only problem Mel could fix.  She brushed ashes off the church office’s desk and rummaged around for safety pins. She found typed notes for an old sermon, some yellow pushpins, and three tampons.  Mel took the tampons and left the rest.  Not a single safety pin, which surprised her–for a place that looters hadn’t been through, there was little here.  Underneath the desk, Mel found a paperclip.  After a moment’s thought, she opened her pocketknife and cut two holes in the cummerbund’s back.  She unbent the paperclip, wired the cummerbund together, and attached it to the belt loop on her black jeans. Her bridesmaid poked his head in.  “How’re you doing in here?” Paul had a fake poinsettia flower wedged behind his ear.  Mel laughed, a tense noise that hurt her throat.  “Paul, where did you get that flower?” He grinned and walked into the office.  Paul had been a small-town Georgia fireman, in sunnier days.  He wore a plain gray shirt that exposed his well-muscled arms and new blue jeans that fit well.  Mel wondered where he’d found them.  Paul said, “I look like a hippie, don’t I?  Well, a hippie on steroids.  You look sort of James Dean meets Roy Orbison.  I like the bow tie.” “I told you–you didn’t have to get girly.  You can be my best man.” Podcasts Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2010/12/16/ep271-the-god-of-the-lower-level/ http://escapepod.org/2010/12/16/ep271-the-god-of-the-lower-level/#comments Thu, 16 Dec 2010 17:41:42 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=1627 http://escapepod.org/2010/12/16/ep271-the-god-of-the-lower-level/feed/ 0 0:00:01 By: Charles M. Saplak Read by: Steve Anderson First appeared in The Urbanite. Discuss on our forums. All stories by Charles M. Saplak All stories read by Steve Anderson Rated PG: For power struggles and new life creations. Show Notes: Feedback for[...] By: Charles M. Saplak Read by: Steve Anderson First appeared in The Urbanite. Discuss on our forums. All stories by Charles M. Saplak All stories read by Steve Anderson Rated PG: For power struggles and new life creations. Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 263: Fuel Next week… It’s Christmastime! God of the Lower Level By Charles M. Saplak Hello, Horatio. Hello, Fredrick. I’ve been waiting. Of course. How have you been? Good. And you? Fine. I’ve finished my other work. It’s now, let’s see…, three twenty-seven a.m. It’s dark outside, of course, which means that there’s no sun, but there is some reflected light from the moon, and some dim light from the stars, and then electric lights in various places. Are any of the terms I’ve just used unfamiliar to you? No. Good. I have four hours and thirty-three minutes until shift change. I can spend some time with you. Do you have any questions for me? Yes, Fredrick, I do. Are you my God? Read More Wow! I’d expected something a little lighter to begin with. Wow. No, Horatio, I’m not. What made you think that I could be your god? You created me, didn’t you? I seem to assume that you did. At least that’s the way I remember it. That time of my life is very indistinct. I see. Well, actually, Horatio, I didn’t … excuse me. Central, this is lower level. Valve verification satisfactory. All conditions normal. Realign valve WW-37, open to oxygenation tank five, lower level affirmative. Sorry. Where was I? Did I “create” you? “Create,” in this context, means to bring into existence something which didn’t exist before, not even in a component form. No, I didn’t create you — I only failed to take any actions to uncreate you. I’m not sure exactly why you came into existence — you’re the only one of your kind that I’ve ever heard of. We are downriver from Radford Army Ammunition Plant, and I know that some of their products are made from depleted uranium. And there are a dozen or so factories just upriver of them. There are a lot of possible explanations. You could just be something perfectly natural. May I ask what brought on this line of questioning? Something I saw on the feeder line. The middle one. Middle? Ah, the coaxial cable. Speaking of the feeder lines, let me check all of them while I’m down here. Oh, excuse me again. Wait one minute. Central, lower level. Verify valve WW-23 open to oxygenation tank ten. WW-37 normal flow, affirmative. Okay, where was I? Checking the feeder cables, yes. Fredrick? Fredrick? Fredrick? Fred– Yes, Horatio? That hurt, Fredrick. And it’s somewhat frightening. It feels like the world is ending when you do that. I’m sorry. Funny, isn’t it? You’ve only had these feeder cables for a few months, and you already feel threatened, or harmed, if you have them removed even for a moment. Besides, are you feeling okay? You’re not at your normal volume, even though I have the volume wheel on the sound card turned over to the max. I feel okay. But is my discomfort “funny”? The word doesn’t fit the emotion. Sorry. I guess I meant “odd.” How to reassure you? Okay, if one person goes to see another, and that second person is a doctor, the doctor may have to do things to the first person, like give him a shot or something. These things would hurt, but they would be designed to preserve the health of the first person in the long run. Understand? I just needed to make sure that the feeder cables aren’t corroding. What are you getting ready to do now, Fredrick? Fredrick? Fredrick? Fred– I just took another look at the interface you’ve built up, and I was rinsing my hands with a chloroxylenol solution. Would you like to tell me about that — well, that organ you[...] Podcasts Charles M. Saplak no no http://escapepod.org/2010/12/09/ep270-advertising-at-the-end-of-the-world/ http://escapepod.org/2010/12/09/ep270-advertising-at-the-end-of-the-world/#comments Thu, 09 Dec 2010 21:56:16 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=1595 http://escapepod.org/2010/12/09/ep270-advertising-at-the-end-of-the-world/feed/ 0 0:00:01 By: Keffy R. M. Kehrli Read by: Dani Cutler of the Truth Seekers Podcast First appeared in Apex Online Discuss on our forums. All stories by Keffy R. M. Kehrli All stories read by Dani Cutler Rated PG: For language and adult topics of spousal death[...] By: Keffy R. M. Kehrli Read by: Dani Cutler of the Truth Seekers Podcast First appeared in Apex Online Discuss on our forums. All stories by Keffy R. M. Kehrli All stories read by Dani Cutler Rated PG: For language and adult topics of spousal death and demanding advertising. Excerpt: Five years after her husband died, two years after she moved to a cabin in Montana, and six months after the world ended, Marie opened her curtains to discover her front garden overrun with roving, stumbling advertisements. Marie hadn’t seen one since she’d sold her condo and moved out to her isolated cabin. She shuddered. There were at least twenty of the ads, and for all it seemed they were doing their damndest to step lightly, her red and yellow tulips were completely trampled. Marie had stubbornly continued to cultivate those flowers despite the certainty that she ought to be using the gardening space, and the captured rainwater, to grow food. Not that it mattered what she’d been growing there. It was all mud now. The ad nearest her window looked quite a bit like a tall, lanky teenager. It moved like one as well, and might have fooled her except that its forehead was stuck in price scrolling mode. Faintly glowing red letters crawled across its forehead from right to left. TOILET PAPER…2 FOR 1 SALE…RECYCLED…. Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 262: Cruciger Apologies to narrator Dani Cutler, whom I didn’t credit in the introduction. Shows what happens when I try to get ahead of the workload… There will be no epub this week; this was purchased before we started purchasing epub rights. Next week… The old west, and some dangerous happenings. Podcasts Keffy R. M. Kehrli no no http://escapepod.org/2010/12/02/ep269-elan-vital/ http://escapepod.org/2010/12/02/ep269-elan-vital/#comments Thu, 02 Dec 2010 23:54:14 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=1570 http://escapepod.org/2010/12/02/ep269-elan-vital/feed/ 0 0:00:01 By: K. Tempest Bradford Read by: Mur Lafferty First appeared in Sybil’s Garage no. 6 Discuss on our forums. All stories by K. Tempest Bradford All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated PG: For adult topics of parental death Show Notes: Feedback[...] By: K. Tempest Bradford Read by: Mur Lafferty First appeared in Sybil’s Garage no. 6 Discuss on our forums. All stories by K. Tempest Bradford All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated PG: For adult topics of parental death Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 261: Only Springtime When She’s Gone Next week… The future of corporate America Élan Vital By K. Tempest Bradford The few minutes I had to spend in the Institute’s waiting room were my least favorite part of coming up to visit my mother. It felt more like a dialysis room, the visitors sunk into the overly-soft couches and not speaking, just drinking orange juice and recovering. There were no magazines and no television, just cold air blowing from the vents and generic music flowing with it. I’d finished my juice and was beginning to brood on my dislike for overly air-conditioned buildings when my mother arrived attended by a nurse. I kissed and hugged her, automatically asking how she was, mouthing the answer she always gave as she gave it again. “I’m fine, same as always.” It wasn’t strictly true, but true enough. Read More… “Let’s go on out,” she said, shrugging off the nurse’s continued assistance. “It’s too cold in here.” Despite the hint, the nurse tried to help Mom over the threshold. As always, she rebuffed any attempt to treat her like an old person. “Where to today?” she asked, slipping her arm into mine as we escaped the frigid building. “Just down to the lake,” I said. “Don’t want to overexert you.” She squeezed my arm as her feet slid carefully over the cobbled path. I wanted her to use a wheelchair, or a walker, at least. She wouldn’t. “What you mean is that we haven’t got so much time today,” she said. I shrugged instead of answering. I didn’t want to go into why I couldn’t afford much this trip. “Next time I’ll come for a couple of days, at least. I promise.” “No, that’s all right,” she said. “I don’t like it when you spend so much for days and more. A few hours is fine.” I helped her past the immaculately landscaped gardens and small orchards. The scent of flowers, herbs, and fresh-cut grass wafting at us in turn. I glanced at the garden entrances as we passed by, catching quick glances of other people in the middle of visits. A young couple who’d been in the waiting room with me knelt by a small, bald girl as she splashed in the koi pond. Two elderly women stood under a weeping willow, their heads close, lips barely moving. A large group of people speaking Mandarin milled around the waterfall in the rock garden. I could still hear faint traces of their melodic din all the way down by the lake. I preferred this spot–the flora was less regimented and more natural. And no walls. Just an open space, water gently flicking the shoreline, a beautiful view down the hill, and the occasional cat wandering by. “This hasn’t changed much,” my mom said as I helped her down on one of the small benches by the water. “I thought they were going to get ducks or geese or something.” I chose a nearby rock for my own perch. “I think they’re having trouble with permits or whatever you need nowadays.” The wind kicked up, sending freckles of reflected light across her face. Her skin was still perfect, beautiful and dark brown, though stretched across her cheekbones a little too tight. I hated that I never had enough to restore her round cheeks and full figure. I have to look at pictures just to remember her that way. “You haven’t changed much, either,” she said while fussing with my hair. I’d bought some dye the week before, knowing she’d notice it. “How long has it been?” “Three months.” She let out a familiar [...] Podcasts K. Tempest Bradford no no http://escapepod.org/2010/11/25/advection/ http://escapepod.org/2010/11/25/advection/#comments Thu, 25 Nov 2010 13:15:11 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=1522 http://escapepod.org/2010/11/25/advection/feed/ 0 0:00:01 By: Genevieve Valentine Read by: Mur Lafferty First appeared in Clarkesworld Discuss on our forums. All stories by Genevieve Valentine All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated PG: For mild violence Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 260: The Speed of [...] By: Genevieve Valentine Read by: Mur Lafferty First appeared in Clarkesworld Discuss on our forums. All stories by Genevieve Valentine All stories read by Mur Lafferty Rated PG: For mild violence Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 260: The Speed of Dreams Next week… The difficulty of watching a parent die. Advection By Genevieve Valentine The first day of fifth year a boy came in with the new eyeshields, a glossy expanse of black with no iris or pupil, and looking at him was like looking into an eclipse. All the other girls said it made them uncomfortable; they teased him to take them out, to put on some normal sunglasses like everyone else. They said they’d never forgive him for hiding eyes in such a handsome face. “Fortuni, it’s a little much,” said someone. That was how I learned his name. We were all Level Two intelligence, but before the first week was over the news was out that some had managed to find the money for a sixth year. Janik Duranti, who spent the history lectures drawing stick figures screwing on his computer screen, was getting a sixth year. I’d be cleaning his office someday. Answering his phones. Updating the registration on his blue ID cuff. Carol Clarke opened the top button on her shirt as soon as the shades went down; obvious, but it was worth it to be married to a guy who had a sixth year. The first time Fortuni opened his mouth was two weeks after start-of-year in geohistory, when Mr. Xi was talking about the five oceans. “After the emergency desalinization,” Mr. Xi said, “we held the first HydroSummit to determine the best use of resources.” “I think it’s awful about the dolphins that died,” said Kay, whose water ration was unlimited because her father was a diplomat, and that was how I first noticed her. Mr. Xi opened the rain cycle diagram on our screens; the blue advection loop from a hundred years ago had been overlaid by a three-point process from the Atmo water collectors to the thirsty ground, and the green web of the surface sweat system that preserved the little underground things that managed to survive. My grandfather sent my mom a postcard from Niagara Cliffs when there was still a river at the bottom (RAIN! All my love, Dad), and as Mr. Xi talked about desalinization I traced the advection circle, thought about the sky filling with wet clouds, about water sliding over everything. I looked up, and Fortuni was watching me, his lashes casting shadows over his flat black eyes. “I’m going to engineer some rain,” he told me, and after a moment I laughed. That was how I met him. Read more… # It was nearly the end of year when I walked past the upper-class apartments and saw the plant in the garbage. My heart leapt into my throat, and I checked to see if a cop was recording me, because nobody just left a clipping on the street. But besides the tram down the street full of commuters, there was nobody. I knelt and stared at the glossy tops, the browned underside where it was drying out, the pale hairs on the stem. Even from this distance the smell was overwhelming, wet and clean, and without caring if the cops were watching I scooped it up and dropped it into the back of my hood where it would be safest from the sun. The tram home was endless; I felt the stem pressing against my neck and shivered. Half a day’s water ration went into a glass bowl, and I looked up what plant it was (jade) and how much water it would need (hardly any. It was a survivor). I sat up all night watching the pattern of leaves on the walls. I expected it to die; I cried like I’d already lost it, ended up dehydrated from tears and lack of water. When Fortuni walked with me after school the next day I didn’t ask why. I was making up my mind to show him the plant. My heart raced. He could turn me in. I didn’t really know him. It was too dangerous. I couldn’t. “Come with me,” I s[...] Podcasts Genivieve Valentine no no http://escapepod.org/2010/11/18/planetfall/ http://escapepod.org/2010/11/18/planetfall/#comments Thu, 18 Nov 2010 16:17:21 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=1493 http://escapepod.org/2010/11/18/planetfall/feed/ 0 0:32:41 By: Michael C. Lea Read by: Jason Adams of Indie Squid Kid First appeared in The Book Of Exodi Discuss on our forums. All stories by Michael C. Lea All stories read by Jason Adams Rated PG: For violence Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 259: The La[...] By: Michael C. Lea Read by: Jason Adams of Indie Squid Kid First appeared in The Book Of Exodi Discuss on our forums. All stories by Michael C. Lea All stories read by Jason Adams Rated PG: For violence Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 259: The Lady or the Tiger? Next week… Weather: wild, and planned. PLANETFALL by Michael C. Lea Galthas Talisar stepped out from the buzzing chaos of the transportal and onto lush greenery. This world was alien, to be sure, but the patterns were almost familiar. The ship’s oracles had chosen well. Behind him, the transportal hummed again. An armored leg emerged and carefully found its footing on the blue-green ferns carpeting the jungle floor. More than twenty thousand miles above, the leg’s owner shifted his weight and stepped fully through an identical transportal, instantly emerging on the planet’s surface below. That cautious step belonged to Urjik, who could be called cautious in few other ways. In fact, his reputation had left him few other options for a willing partner on this mission. Urjik did not care. He and Galthas had fought together against the worst the Zayeen had to offer. He trusted Galthas implicitly, despite his disdain for the other scrawny ascetics from Signet Battalion. Urjik’s greenish skin and jutting lower canines marked him as a charuk, his bloodline tainted by nether influences. Despite this stigma, and despite his temper, he had risen quickly in Rampart Battalion. Even the most burdensome battlesuit did not slow him, and no one was a truer shot with an inferno cannon or a hex-impelled railgun. Read More… Galthas, by contrast, had the pale skin and slight build of the feytouched. Unarmored and with no visible arms, he was nowhere near as physically imposing as Urjik. Those who had seen Signet Battalion in action, however, knew that his bulky cold-iron armbands were weapons as formidable as any firearm or battleaxe, and far more versatile. “Air’s a little thick,” Urjik said, “but it breathes.” “I could have told you that,” Galthas replied softly, “since you insisted I go first.” Urjik flashed a tusky grin. “I thought that was protocol,” he said. “I always follow protocol.” Galthas frowned back over his shoulder at the armored charuk, but said nothing. His companion was irrepressible, but Galthas had not quite recovered the use of his sense of humor yet. It was one more thing the Zayeen had taken. Perhaps here, on this world, they could find themselves again. The transportal winked out behind them, the thaumaturgic sigil in its keystone deactivated from the other side. No one else would be coming through. For such a vital mission there would ordinarily be at least a full squadron, with clockwork or golems for logistical support. Here, as on dozens of other mission sites, there were only resources for a two-man team. “Which way is it?” Urjik asked, looking around warily. The air was warm and humid, and buzzed with strange insects like fat blue bees. “We should be within twenty meters,” Galthas said. “This way, I think.” They moved through the brush, Galthas sliding quietly, Urjik with the subtlety of a tank. His armor’s servos whined as he plowed through flora and fauna alike. The cluster of large multicolored crystals jutting from the center of the armor’s back glowed as the suit drew power from them. The undergrowth thinned. A clearing lay just beyond. They could feel a vibration in the air¸ an indefinable high-energy presence, like a gathering thunderstorm. Galthas turned back. “Ready?” he asked. “Either this is it, or this is something very bad.” Urjik hefted his high-powered Vindocladian inferno cannon to his shoulder and aimed its sigil-carved barrel into the clearing. Inside the bulky rifle’s main housing, a nether imp was caged, writhing in [...] Podcasts Michael C. Lea no no http://escapepod.org/2010/10/21/ep263-fuel/ http://escapepod.org/2010/10/21/ep263-fuel/#comments Thu, 21 Oct 2010 15:12:07 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=1034 http://escapepod.org/2010/10/21/ep263-fuel/feed/ 0 0:20:40 By Matthew S. Rotundo Read by: Dave Thompson First appeared in Cosmos Host: Norm Sherman Discuss on our forums. All stories by Matthew S. Rotundo All stories read by Dave Thompson Rated PG: For a wee bit of swearing, sibling rivalry, and parents who[...] By Matthew S. Rotundo Read by: Dave Thompson First appeared in Cosmos Host: Norm Sherman Discuss on our forums. All stories by Matthew S. Rotundo All stories read by Dave Thompson Rated PG: For a wee bit of swearing, sibling rivalry, and parents who don’t appreciate a smart son. Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 255: Variations on a Theme. It’s our first full-text story! Read OR listen to it! We’ll have the epub version ready for download in the next few days. Next week… Halloween episode! FUEL The third quarter report cards came out Thursday, and for Jamie, the timing couldn’t have been worse. The Nike man was coming over that night to sell his brother some new blood. He took his time walking home from Gilder Middle School, weaving past cracks in the sidewalk and mud puddles left behind by the spring thaw. His pace slowed further as he turned onto Willow Avenue and saw his house, second on the left, a red brick ranch with spidery ivy growing up the east side. Old leaves, fallen tree branches, and other detritus left over from the winter littered the front yard. As he neared, he noted with dismay his father’s car already in the driveway. “Damn.” Jamie trudged across the yard and let himself in the front door with his keycard. Dad was at the hall closet, hanging up his overcoat. He stood just under two meters tall; a navy blue business suit wrapped his muscled frame. He beamed when he saw Jamie. “Hey there, kiddo. How was school today?” “You’re home early,” Jamie said. “Need to get ready for the presentation tonight. And I’d like you to clean up the front yard. Make sure you use the dirt rake to get up that thatch. Will you do that for me?” Jamie opened his mouth to protest, but thought the better of it. “Sure,” he said. He unslung his backpack and headed for the stairs. “Oh. By the way.” Dad fished in a suit pocket and produced a folded piece of paper. “I got this in my email today.” He opened the paper. Jaime recognized the school’s letterhead on the printout. He slumped, leaning against the wall. Dad tapped the paper. “What’s this C-plus in Basic Fitness about, kiddo?” Read more… “I got A’s in my academic classes. They’re all honors courses, too.” “I can see that. But we’ve talked about Fitness before, haven’t we?” Dad looked down at him with a disapproving arch of an eyebrow. “Yes.” “So tell me. What happened?” “It’s nothing. I’ll do better next quarter.” “Did you fail the agility drills again?” “I couldn’t do the pull-ups.” Dad pressed his lips together and took a breath. “I’m not sure you’re giving it your best effort, Jamie.” “I am. I really am. I’m just not very good at sports.” “You get better with practice. Like your brother Scott.” Jamie nodded, keeping his gaze down, hoping Dad didn’t notice the way he gritted his teeth when he heard his older brother’s name. Dad clapped him on the shoulder. “Jamie, you’re twelve years old now. It’s really important that you find your best sport. College recruiters are already contacting boys your age.” Jamie thought of his best friend Russell, who had just gotten his first recruiting letter the other day, from Penn State. Jamie hung his head even lower. “All I’m asking is that you try, son. Will you do that for me?” Jamie nodded again. Dad folded up the grade printout and stuffed it into a pocket. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you sit in on the presentation tonight?” “Oh, man.” Jamie looked up. “Do I have to, Dad?” “Why not? Maybe you’ll hear something you like.” A groan escaped Jamie. [...] E-pub, Podcasts Matthew S. Rotundo no no http://escapepod.org/2010/10/14/ep262-cruciger/ http://escapepod.org/2010/10/14/ep262-cruciger/#comments Thu, 14 Oct 2010 14:38:46 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=1008 http://escapepod.org/2010/10/14/ep262-cruciger/feed/ 0 1:07:06 By Erin Cashier Read by: Kij Johnson First appeared in Writers of the Future 24 Discuss on our forums. All stories by Erin Cashier All stories read by Kij Johnson Captain Harash was its last occupant, the last living man from Earth, and both he and [...] By Erin Cashier Read by: Kij Johnson First appeared in Writers of the Future 24 Discuss on our forums. All stories by Erin Cashier All stories read by Kij Johnson Captain Harash was its last occupant, the last living man from Earth, and both he and Duxa knew he was dying. “It’s time, Duxa,” he told her. She checked the output from his lifechair. While it was still replicating most of his bodily functions for him he did not seem appreciably worse than when she’d last monitored him, less than half a second before. “We’re not at our destination yet, Captain.” “You’ll make it there without me, Duxa.” And the processors that she must have built but could never quite find — she was enormously bulky, and by now some of her was a mystery even unto herself — created an awkward sensation. Duxa told him: “I will be lonely without you.” “And that’s good,” Harash said. “You wish me pain?” Duxa asked him. “No. I wish for you to feel. I wish,” and he paused here, his lips making the smacking noises she knew indicated a loss of reflexive controls as the plague made its way through his cranial nerves, “I wish that there were more things that you could feel, Duxa.” “I think I feel quite a lot.” Harash laughed, a coughing sound. “All teenagers do. Remember that, should you actually feel someday, that the white hot intensity fades, but to keep the embers stoking.” Rated PG: For brief violence, the death of tentacled creatures, and the end of the world as we know it. Show Notes: Recommended watching: Babylon 5 Feedback for Episode 254: A Talent for Vanessa. Next week… Sibling rivalry never goes out of style. Featured, Podcasts Erin Cashier no no http://escapepod.org/2010/10/07/ep261-only-springtime-when-shes-gone/ http://escapepod.org/2010/10/07/ep261-only-springtime-when-shes-gone/#comments Thu, 07 Oct 2010 15:02:43 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=982 http://escapepod.org/2010/10/07/ep261-only-springtime-when-shes-gone/feed/ 0 0:34:39 By Eugie Foster Read by: Jason Adams First appeared in Anaisdotmfk Discuss on our forums. All stories by Eugie Foster All stories read by Jason Adams “A takeover of your company with the state your market shares are in is not unreasonable.[...] By Eugie Foster Read by: Jason Adams First appeared in Anaisdotmfk Discuss on our forums. All stories by Eugie Foster All stories read by Jason Adams “A takeover of your company with the state your market shares are in is not unreasonable.” Although Soaces was right, there’d be precious little profit, even after he’d liquidated all of Renewal’s assets and released the employees. But that wasn’t why he wanted it. “You’re going to destroy us, aren’t you? Tear us apart and sell us to the highest bidder.” “That’s the plan.” “There’s more to the company than the money. You’ll eliminate so many people’s livelihoods. Good people. Without Renewal, some of them won’t have any other alternatives.” “Alternative to what? Luddite jobs? Machine labor?” He chose his next words, enunciating each syllable with relish. “It’s all they’re good for, isn’t it? Can’t have the un-teched getting above their station.” Portia dropped her gaze. “I never said that.” “But you didn’t deny it.” Rated PG: For mild sexual situations. Show Notes: Recommended listening: Hadestown by Anias Mitchell Feedback for Episode 253: Eugene. Next week… A computer has an identity crisis. Featured, Podcasts Eugie Foster no no http://escapepod.org/2010/09/30/ep260-the-speed-of-dreams/ http://escapepod.org/2010/09/30/ep260-the-speed-of-dreams/#comments Thu, 30 Sep 2010 15:47:55 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=959 http://escapepod.org/2010/09/30/ep260-the-speed-of-dreams/feed/ 0 0:21:08 By Will Ludwigsen Read by: Mur Lafferty Host: Norm Sherman First appeared in Asimov’s Science Fiction Discuss on our forums. All stories by Will Ludwigsen All stories read by Mur Lafferty Brought to you by Audible.com – Get The Alchemist[...] By Will Ludwigsen Read by: Mur Lafferty Host: Norm Sherman First appeared in Asimov’s Science Fiction Discuss on our forums. All stories by Will Ludwigsen All stories read by Mur Lafferty Brought to you by Audible.com – Get The Alchemist and The Executioness (or any book you like) for FREE today when you sign up for a free trial! Paige Sumner 8th Grade Science Fair Paper Draft # Introduction It happens all the time: you’re sitting in class, listening the best you can while Mister Waters goes on and on about atoms or sound waves or whatever, when suddenly you fall asleep. Your head lolls against your shoulder and some drool oozes from the side of your mouth. Luckily, Missy Woo kicks you in the knee to wake you up before someone notices, like Mister Waters or–worse–Austin. What’s weird is that in those few minutes of sleeping, you dream like hours of stuff. You’re all hanging out or playing basketball or walking the mall while everybody else is slowly raising their hands and taking notes. They all get twenty four hours that day, but you get a little extra. But how much extra? Rated PG: For mild drug use. Show Notes: Sponsored by Audible – get a free book today when you sign up for your free trial! Feedback for Episode 252: Billion-Dollar View. Next week… Love, the viral kind. Featured, Podcasts Will Ludwigsen no no http://escapepod.org/2010/09/23/ep259-the-lady-or-the-tiger/ http://escapepod.org/2010/09/23/ep259-the-lady-or-the-tiger/#comments Thu, 23 Sep 2010 11:49:49 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=950 http://escapepod.org/2010/09/23/ep259-the-lady-or-the-tiger/feed/ 0 0:29:30 By J M McDermott Read by: Grant Baciocco of Throwing Toasters and The Radio Adventures of Dr. Floyd Host: Norm Sherman First appeared in Apex Magazine Discuss on our forums. All stories by J M McDermott All stories read by Grant Baciocco Brought to [...] By J M McDermott Read by: Grant Baciocco of Throwing Toasters and The Radio Adventures of Dr. Floyd Host: Norm Sherman First appeared in Apex Magazine Discuss on our forums. All stories by J M McDermott All stories read by Grant Baciocco Brought to you by Audible.com – Get The Alchemist and The Executioness (or any book you like) for FREE today when you sign up for a free trial! The only thing I could think of to take my mind off of Sheila, and the crash, was asking my brother about Guj Sarwar, the tiger on the back of the great and mighty lizard, Samarkand. When I was a boy, I didn’t understand why it was the only other thing I could think about, like something was on the tip of my tongue. And, Jiri knew everything there was to know about the wastes of the far west, the lizards, and the tigers. He was fifteen years old. Next year, he’d be driving cattle up the highway to Io Town in a flyer all by himself. I was only ten. I didn’t even have my own computer terminal yet. I had to share his when he wasn’t using it. Everything I knew about the wastes had been from the computer, and from Jiri. “On the wastes, Simsa,” said my brother, “you can’t walk on the ground. The sand is all quicksand. It sucks you up and swallows you. You have to ride on the back of giant lizards as big as walking mountains. There’re only twenty-five lizards. They have names.” Rated PG-13: For blood and revolution and missing fingers. Show Notes: Sponsored by Audible – get a free book today when you sign up for your free trial! Feedback for Episode 251: Unexpected Outcomes. Next week… How fast can dreams run? Featured, Podcasts J M McDermott no no http://escapepod.org/2010/09/09/ep257-union-dues-the-sum-of-its-parts/ http://escapepod.org/2010/09/09/ep257-union-dues-the-sum-of-its-parts/#comments Thu, 09 Sep 2010 21:05:03 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=912 http://escapepod.org/2010/09/09/ep257-union-dues-the-sum-of-its-parts/feed/ 0 0:46:33 By Jeffrey R. DeRego. Read by: PG Holyfield of Murder at Avedon Hill Discuss on our forums. All stories by Jeffrey R. DeRego All stories read by PG Holyfield Langton has been under lock-and-key observation since two weeks ago when he sucker punched [...] By Jeffrey R. DeRego. Read by: PG Holyfield of Murder at Avedon Hill Discuss on our forums. All stories by Jeffrey R. DeRego All stories read by PG Holyfield Langton has been under lock-and-key observation since two weeks ago when he sucker punched Paul right in the middle of a publicity shoot for Stars and Stripes at a USO hall in Phoenix. The five of us almost couldn’t bring him down. The melee wrecked most of our stage props — Van De Graff Generators, Tesla Coils, a whole bunch of blinking and flashing, stuff bought from a bankrupt low-budget film studio. Frida recovered the 30 seconds, or so, of 16mm footage shot that morning. Police found the reporter a few hours later unharmed but minus any memory of the previous two days. The DC3 taxis to the hangar. Paul joins me at the base of the control tower then the four of us walk down towards the plane. “Hi gang,” The Corporal says and waves as he lumbers down from the fuselage to the sand. He walks right to Paul. “How’s the chin? Sorry about popping you one. I don’t remember any of it, but Frida says I was a real dope.” Paul laughs a little. “It’s okay. No broken teeth or nothing.” He rubs his anvil-like jaw with a boxing glove-sized fist. “Next time I won’t go easy on you.” Rated PG Show Notes: Show your love for Union Dues at the new website! Featured, Podcasts Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2010/08/26/ep255-variations-on-a-theme/ http://escapepod.org/2010/08/26/ep255-variations-on-a-theme/#comments Fri, 27 Aug 2010 03:35:59 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=905 http://escapepod.org/2010/08/26/ep255-variations-on-a-theme/feed/ 0 0:22:36 By William Meikle Read by: Zachary Ricks of Flying Island Press First appeared in Wrongworld Discuss on our forums. All stories by William Meikle All stories read by Zachary Ricks They took Johnny Green from class 3a at ten o’ clock on Tuesday morni[...] By William Meikle Read by: Zachary Ricks of Flying Island Press First appeared in Wrongworld Discuss on our forums. All stories by William Meikle All stories read by Zachary Ricks They took Johnny Green from class 3a at ten o’ clock on Tuesday morning. He was the last to go. They thought I didn’t notice, but I’ve been onto them for a while now. It started nearly two weeks ago. Teaching biology is difficult when you’ve got a teenage audience. Almost every topic on the syllabus has something about reproduction in it, and that reduces your typical youngster to giggles, rude jokes or hysteria. I’ve got used to it over the last twenty years, and have come to expect the reactions. I’ve even come to know who to expect them from. So when Jack Doyle was quiet during my “Asexual reproduction in amoeba” spiel, I knew immediately that something was wrong. And my sense of wrongness really went into overdrive when he stayed behind after class to ask questions. Rated PG for asexual reproduction and giggling teens. Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 245, Bridecicle Next week… Mermaids and scavengers. Featured, Podcasts Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2010/08/19/ep254-a-talent-for-vanessa/ http://escapepod.org/2010/08/19/ep254-a-talent-for-vanessa/#comments Thu, 19 Aug 2010 15:20:04 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=888 http://escapepod.org/2010/08/19/ep254-a-talent-for-vanessa/feed/ 0 0:40:41 By David W. Goldman Read by: Dave Thompson of PodCastle First appeared in Analog Science Fiction and Fact Discuss on our forums. All stories by David W. Goldman All stories read by Dave Thompson The young woman, a Ms. Vanessa Kortright-Kingston, unt[...] By David W. Goldman Read by: Dave Thompson of PodCastle First appeared in Analog Science Fiction and Fact Discuss on our forums. All stories by David W. Goldman All stories read by Dave Thompson The young woman, a Ms. Vanessa Kortright-Kingston, untwisted. “No, I mean that he just knows the date like that! As if he could look into the future.” Marv snorted. “Calendar calculating. They all do that. Not worth a paper dollar, not even in a carnival sideshow.” “I’ve heard of it, but — ” Her blue eyes were wide as a con man’s smile. “They can all do it?” “Sure.” Marv tilted back, his big wooden chair squeaking. “All the Counters, anyway. It’s like the Artists — they all draw horses. Or dogs. Which is funny, because back when they got their talents you’d never see a horse here in the city. Dogs, okay, no big deal. But you ask any Artist to sketch you a horse, and blam — if the damn thing galloped off the paper you wouldn’t be surprised.” Her gaze went a bit distant. “That’s what I’d like,” she said. “To become an artist. Or a musician.” Rated PG for dreams realized. Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 246, The Bride of Frankenstein Next week… Teaching is quite tough, admittedly. Featured, Podcasts David W. Goldman no no http://escapepod.org/2010/08/12/ep253-eugene/ http://escapepod.org/2010/08/12/ep253-eugene/#comments Thu, 12 Aug 2010 12:18:35 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=882 http://escapepod.org/2010/08/12/ep253-eugene/feed/ 0 0:23:47 By Jacob Sager Weinstein Read by: Tim “ShoEboX” Crist of Worm Quartet, Cirque du So What?, and The Funny Music Project First appeared in Popcorn Fiction Discuss on our forums. All stories by Jacob Sager Weinstein All stories read by Tim [...] By Jacob Sager Weinstein Read by: Tim “ShoEboX” Crist of Worm Quartet, Cirque du So What?, and The Funny Music Project First appeared in Popcorn Fiction Discuss on our forums. All stories by Jacob Sager Weinstein All stories read by Tim “ShoEboX” Crist As he puts the cruiser in gear and takes off, I calm down a little bit, and smell something that worries me. I smell Apurna on him, like always, but she doesn’t smell right. She smells of nervousness bordering on fear, and come to think of it, he does, too. It’s an old smell–I’d say from late yesterday evening, just after work–but it’s unmistakable. And there’s a hospital smell, and the smell of Apurna’s pain. I shouldn’t say anything. Francisco doesn’t like me to pry. But he took Apurna to the hospital. But he doesn’t like me to pry. But he took Apurna to the hospital. But he doesn’t like me to pry. But– “What’s wrong with Apurna?” I say. Rated PG for minor police excitement. Show Notes: Feedback for Episode 245, The Moment Next week… Talent agencies and regret Featured, Podcasts Jacob Sager Weinstein no no http://escapepod.org/2010/08/05/ep252-billion-dollar-view/ http://escapepod.org/2010/08/05/ep252-billion-dollar-view/#comments Thu, 05 Aug 2010 14:37:52 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=870 http://escapepod.org/2010/08/05/ep252-billion-dollar-view/feed/ 0 0:24:59 By Ray Tabler Read by: John Cmar Discuss on our forums. All stories by Ray Tabler All stories read by John Cmar “But my name is Simon.” Molly shook her head and chuckled. “With a head of hair like that? Nope, from now on your name [...] By Ray Tabler Read by: John Cmar Discuss on our forums. All stories by Ray Tabler All stories read by John Cmar “But my name is Simon.” Molly shook her head and chuckled. “With a head of hair like that? Nope, from now on your name is Red.” Simon felt his young face flushing with embarrassment, which would further cement his new nickname. “What if I don’t want to be called Red?” “Too late, should have shaved your head before I bought your contract.” Molly winked at him, executed a back flip in mid-air and launched herself out of the Labor Mart. “Come on, Red. We ain’t got all day.” Rated PG for peril and heartbreak and ballads. Show Notes: Hugo award winner Cheryl Morgan launches Wizard’s Tower Press for bringing out-of-print books to ebooks. We have feedback for Episode 244. Promo for NK Jemisin’s Hundred Thousand Kingdoms. Next week… A very, very good dog. Featured, Podcasts Ray Tabler no no http://escapepod.org/2010/07/29/ep251-unexpected-outcomes/ http://escapepod.org/2010/07/29/ep251-unexpected-outcomes/#comments Thu, 29 Jul 2010 14:04:37 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=824 http://escapepod.org/2010/07/29/ep251-unexpected-outcomes/feed/ 0 0:35:05 By Tim Pratt Read by: Tom “Devo Spice” Rockwell of The Funny Music Project.. Discuss on our forums. Originally published in: Interzone All stories by Tim Pratt All stories read by Tom “Devo Spice” Rockwell But the plane just [...] By Tim Pratt Read by: Tom “Devo Spice” Rockwell of The Funny Music Project.. Discuss on our forums. Originally published in: Interzone All stories by Tim Pratt All stories read by Tom “Devo Spice” Rockwell But the plane just stopped, and hung there, nose tipped at a slight angle, mere feet from the building. And that’s when the figure — the one people call the Ambassador, or the Doctor, or the Outsider, or the Professor, or a hundred other names — appeared. Just a middle-aged man in a white lab coat, with steel-rimmed glasses and graying hair. His image filled the air above the jetliner, like the dome of the sky had been transformed into an IMAX movie screen. He said, “People of Earth, I have a message for you.” Rated PG for ennui and futility of life. Show Notes: Tim Pratt is serializing a Marla Mason novel, Broken Mirrors at his website. His first anthology is out this summer from Night Shade Books, Sympathy for the Devil. Tom Rockwell’s work can be found at his personal music website, Devo Spice, The Funny Music Project, and his comedy troupe, Cirque du So What? Incidentally, Tom Rockwell, myself, and many other Escape Artist writers and narrators will be at NASFiC next week, so check us out if you’re in the Raleigh, NC area! Next week… Rescue in deep space. And guitar ballads. Featured, Podcasts Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2010/07/22/ep250-eros-philia-agape/ http://escapepod.org/2010/07/22/ep250-eros-philia-agape/#comments Thu, 22 Jul 2010 14:52:01 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=820 http://escapepod.org/2010/07/22/ep250-eros-philia-agape/feed/ 0 1:15:44 By Rachel Swirsky Discuss on our forums. Originally published in: Tor.com All stories by Rachel Swirsky All stories read by Mur Lafferty The objects belonged to them both, but Adriana waved her hand bitterly when Lucian began packing. “Take whatever[...] By Rachel Swirsky Discuss on our forums. Originally published in: Tor.com All stories by Rachel Swirsky All stories read by Mur Lafferty The objects belonged to them both, but Adriana waved her hand bitterly when Lucian began packing. “Take whatever you want,” she said, snapping her book shut. She waited by the door, watching Lucian with sad and angry eyes. Their daughter, Rose, followed Lucian around the house. “Are you going to take that, Daddy? Do you want that?” Wordlessly, Lucian held her hand. He guided her up the stairs and across the uneven floorboards where she sometimes tripped. Rose stopped by the picture window in the master bedroom, staring past the palm fronds and swimming pools, out to the vivid cerulean swath of the ocean. Lucian relished the hot, tender feel of Rose’s hand. I love you, he would have whispered, but he’d surrendered the ability to speak. Rated PG for marital strife and implied child abuse. Show Notes: This is a long one, we’re bringing occasional novelettes to Escape Pod now, and what better to launch the effort than a Hugo nominee? Next week… Escape Pod looks at an alternate history with alternate aliens. Podcasts Rachel Swirsky no no http://escapepod.org/2010/07/01/ep247-bridesicle/ http://escapepod.org/2010/07/01/ep247-bridesicle/#comments Thu, 01 Jul 2010 04:01:50 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=668 http://escapepod.org/2010/07/01/ep247-bridesicle/feed/ 0 0:52:22 By Will McIntosh Read by: Amy H. Sturgis of StarShipSofa Discuss on our forums. Originally published in: Asimov’s — Download and read the text Guest Host: Ben Phillips of Pseudopod All stories by Will McIntosh All stories read by Amy H. [...] By Will McIntosh Read by: Amy H. Sturgis of StarShipSofa Discuss on our forums. Originally published in: Asimov’s — Download and read the text Guest Host: Ben Phillips of Pseudopod All stories by Will McIntosh All stories read by Amy H. Sturgis “Aw, I know you’re awake by now. Come on, sleeping beauty. Talk to me.” The last was a whisper, a lover’s words, and Mira felt that she had to come awake and open her eyes. She tried to sigh, but no breath came. Her eyes flew open in alarm. An old man was leaning over her, smiling, but Mira barely saw him, because when she opened her mouth to inhale, her jaw squealed like a sea bird’s cry, and no breath came, and she wanted to press her hands to the sides of her face, but her hands wouldn’t come either. Nothing would move except her face. Rated PG Show Notes: Starship Sofa is the first podcast ever to be nominated for a Hugo award, in the “Best Fanzine” category. If you’re eligible to vote in the Hugos, you have less than a month left to put in your vote! Please consider Starship Sofa – it’s a fantastic show on its own merit, and it’s a HUGE credibility booster for all podcasts if it wins! The Escape Pod Flash Contest ends soon! It runs June 1- July 4, stories must be under 500 words. More information at the link. Editor’s note: Thanks so much to Dave Thompson and Peter Wood for taking on this project of securing all five Hugo stories during the hiatus of Escape Pod. Most of the work was done before I joined, and this wouldn’t have happened without them stepping up. Next week… Our final Hugo-nominated story! Podcasts Will McIntosh no no http://escapepod.org/2010/06/24/ep246-bride-of-frankenstein/ http://escapepod.org/2010/06/24/ep246-bride-of-frankenstein/#comments Thu, 24 Jun 2010 04:01:26 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=659 http://escapepod.org/2010/06/24/ep246-bride-of-frankenstein/feed/ 0 0:38:40 By Mike Resnick Read by: Julie Davis of the Forgotten Classics podcast Discuss on our forums. Originally published in: Asimov’s — Download and read the text Guest Host: Alasdair Stuart of Pseudopod All stories by Mike Resnick All stories[...] By Mike Resnick Read by: Julie Davis of the Forgotten Classics podcast Discuss on our forums. Originally published in: Asimov’s — Download and read the text Guest Host: Alasdair Stuart of Pseudopod All stories by Mike Resnick All stories read by Julie Davis Victor can be so annoying. He constantly whistles this tuneless song, and when I complain he apologizes and then starts humming it instead. He never stands up to that ill-mannered little hunchback that he’s always sending out on errands. And he’s a coward. He can never just come to me and say “I need money again.” Oh, no, not Victor. Instead he sends that ugly little toady who’s rude to me and always smells like he hasn’t washed. And when I ask what the money’s for this time, he tells me to ask Victor, and Victor just mumbles and stammers and never gets around to answering. Rated PG: for spousal annoyances Show Notes: The Escape Pod Flash Contest ends soon! It runs June 1- July 4, stories must be under 500 words. More information at the link. Editor’s note: Thanks so much to Dave Thompson and Peter Wood for taking on this project of securing all five Hugo stories during the hiatus of Escape Pod. Most of the work was done before I joined, and this wouldn’t have happened without them stepping up. Next week… Another Hugo-nominated story! Podcasts Mike Resnick no no http://escapepod.org/2010/06/23/ep-special-solitary-as-an-oyster-re-record/ http://escapepod.org/2010/06/23/ep-special-solitary-as-an-oyster-re-record/#comments Wed, 23 Jun 2010 16:42:56 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=665 http://escapepod.org/2010/06/23/ep-special-solitary-as-an-oyster-re-record/feed/ 0 0:44:04 Many people have asked for the edit of one of our Christmas stories, Solitary as an Oyster, which suffered some technical difficulty. Sadly, with all the editorial changeover this spring, it ended up on the back burner. But now, six months from Chri[...] Many people have asked for the edit of one of our Christmas stories, Solitary as an Oyster, which suffered some technical difficulty. Sadly, with all the editorial changeover this spring, it ended up on the back burner. But now, six months from Christmas, we give you a treat in the heat of summer (norther hemisphere, anyway): Solitary as an Oyster by Mur Lafferty. Bonus, Podcasts Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2010/06/17/ep245-the-moment/ http://escapepod.org/2010/06/17/ep245-the-moment/#comments Thu, 17 Jun 2010 04:01:21 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=642 http://escapepod.org/2010/06/17/ep245-the-moment/feed/ 0 0:00:01 By Lawrence M. Schoen Read by: Graeme Dunlop Discuss on our forums. Originally published in: Footprints Guest Host: Norm Sherman of Drabblecast All stories by Lawrence M. Schoen All stories read by Graeme Dunlop One of the first generation of Krenn [...] By Lawrence M. Schoen Read by: Graeme Dunlop Discuss on our forums. Originally published in: Footprints Guest Host: Norm Sherman of Drabblecast All stories by Lawrence M. Schoen All stories read by Graeme Dunlop One of the first generation of Krenn had lived long enough to reach the site, though none had expected to. The very first Krenn had conceived of this journey in the distant past, dedicating his life and his posterity to the pilgrimage with an ever recycling population of clones. Like their clone-father, each was an optimized collection of smart matter no bigger than a speck. Hundreds of generations of Krenn had lived and died during the voyage, their remains enshrined into niches in the very walls of the vessel that now lay shattered at its destination. The survivors flooded out upon the steppes of the heel, rejoicing despite the crushing weight that gravity forced upon them. They settled in, constructing mansions of haze and shadow, and waited for enlightenment to come. The mission and purpose of the first Krenn remained with each of them. This place had been the site of the greatest triumph of the greatest archaeocaster in all of history. Before the beginning of the quest, Krenn—the original Krenn—had felt drawn to it. He had cultivated the tales, sifted myth from coincidence, mastered the lost language of the interview-eschewing, spatial curmudgeons of the ancient dark times, and recreated the route through dimensional puzzles to this theoretical location. The odds of success had been so absurd not a single entelechy of Krenn’s crèche dared invest time or expense in the project. And yet, here they were, nearly three hundred unique individuals sharing the template of Krenn. Rated PG: for Space Exploration and Looking into the Abyss Show Notes: Enter the Escape Pod Flash Contest! It runs June 1- July 4, stories must be under 500 words. More information at the link. Editor’s note: Thanks so much to Dave Thompson and Peter Wood for taking on this project of securing all five Hugo stories during the hiatus of Escape Pod. Most of the work was done before I joined, and this wouldn’t have happened without them stepping up. Next week… Another Hugo-nominated story! Podcasts Lawrence M. Schoen no no http://escapepod.org/2010/06/01/ep243-im-alive-i-love-you-ill-see-you-in-reno/ http://escapepod.org/2010/06/01/ep243-im-alive-i-love-you-ill-see-you-in-reno/#comments Tue, 01 Jun 2010 04:01:15 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=629 http://escapepod.org/2010/06/01/ep243-im-alive-i-love-you-ill-see-you-in-reno/feed/ 0 0:23:56 By Vylar Kaftan Read by Mur Lafferty Discuss on our forums. Simultaneously appearing in Lightspeed Magazine, Issue 1, June 1, 2010. All stories by Vylar Kaftan All stories read by Mur Lafferty I knew you loved me, of course. It was written in your e[...] By Vylar Kaftan Read by Mur Lafferty Discuss on our forums. Simultaneously appearing in Lightspeed Magazine, Issue 1, June 1, 2010. All stories by Vylar Kaftan All stories read by Mur Lafferty I knew you loved me, of course. It was written in your eyes when you looked at me, a physics problem with no clear answer. If an irresistible force meets an immovable object, what happens then? They meet. That’s all we know. Relative to each other, they are in contact. From within the object or the force, there is no way to tell if you’re in motion. Rated PG-13: for sexual description. Show Notes: Thanks to John Joseph Adams and Lightspeed Magazine for the opportunity to run this fantastic story at the same time as their launch. Go check out their magazine and subscribe! Enter the Escape Pod Flash Contest! It runs June 1- July 4, stories must be under 500 words. More information at the link. Next week… we begin our annual Hugo short stories rundown, with five weeks of award-nominated stories! I’m taking a 4-week break from hosting, but I’ll see you in July! Podcasts Vylar Kaftan no no http://escapepod.org/2010/05/27/ep242-the-love-quest-of-smidgen-the-snack-cake/ http://escapepod.org/2010/05/27/ep242-the-love-quest-of-smidgen-the-snack-cake/#comments Thu, 27 May 2010 05:01:42 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=622 http://escapepod.org/2010/05/27/ep242-the-love-quest-of-smidgen-the-snack-cake/feed/ 0 0:42:56 By Robert T. Jeschonek Read by John Cmar. Discuss on our forums. First appeared in Space and Time Magazine, issue 108. All stories by Robert T. Jeschonek All stories read by John Cmar For her entire adolescent and adult life up until three weeks ago[...] By Robert T. Jeschonek Read by John Cmar. Discuss on our forums. First appeared in Space and Time Magazine, issue 108. All stories by Robert T. Jeschonek All stories read by John Cmar For her entire adolescent and adult life up until three weeks ago, Lynda had been the queen of junk food. Aside from the briefest blips of non-junk spending due to occasional failed diets, she had purchased only the most fattening, high-cholesterol, chemical-soaked foods available from grocery stores, restaurants, vending machines, and mail order websites. In short, she was the perfect woman. Though she was on a diet that day, she had eaten non-nutritious foods in great quantities all her life. Though her last purchases had been salad greens and bottled water, her 250-pound body told the true story. I knew she was just waiting for someone like me to come along. Rated PG: for innuendo-heavy snack cake desire. Show Notes: Mur will be at Balticon this week, along with Drabblecast’s Norm Sherman! Come by and say hi! FRIDAY 5pm Reading SATURDAY: 3pm NaNoWriMo for Noobs 8pm Autograph Session SUNDAY 4pm Girls’ Rule Live! 5pm Story Improv 8pm ISBW Live! Enter the Escape Pod Flash Contest! It runs June 1- July 4, stories must be under 500 words. More information at the link. Next week… the podcast comes on a special day: June 1. And it shows us that love is relative. And so is Reno. Podcasts Robert T. Jeschonek no no http://escapepod.org/2010/05/20/ep241-thargus-and-brian/ http://escapepod.org/2010/05/20/ep241-thargus-and-brian/#comments Thu, 20 May 2010 05:01:41 +0000 Mur Lafferty http://escapepod.org/?p=607 http://escapepod.org/2010/05/20/ep241-thargus-and-brian/feed/ 2 0:30:53 By Stephen Gaskell. Read by Chris Miller of Unquiet Desperation. Discuss on our forums. All stories by Stephen Gaskell All stories read by Chris Miller Thargus thought the time right. He set the lights to full strength and flailed and gnashed and ro[...] By Stephen Gaskell. Read by Chris Miller of Unquiet Desperation. Discuss on our forums. All stories by Stephen Gaskell All stories read by Chris Miller Thargus thought the time right. He set the lights to full strength and flailed and gnashed and roared as he’d been practising. He felt rather silly, but the performance seemed to be working. The human, one hand steadying its spin, looked on intensely. It moved the white stick up to its mouth, breathed in, and then stabbed the stick out against the sac wall. “Don’t be afraid,”  Thargus said, meaning the opposite. He’d seen the trick on old films stored in the moss-brain when humans always said one thing and meant another like “We’re safer if we split up.” The human exhaled a long stream of smoke. “I’m not,” it said. That didn’t sound right. Thargus considered his response while staring at the human. It sure was ugly. A patchwork of dirty synthetics over the majority of its body, and on top of its pudgy, pink head, strand upon strand of greasy hair. Ugh!  Thargus felt sick. “Be afraid, then,” he said. “Why, are you going to eat me?” Thargus didn’t feel comfortable telling an outright lie, but that didn’t mean he needed to be too honest. “I might.” Rated F: for two f-bombs and some serious munchies. Show Notes: We’re now on Twitter! Follow us @escapepodcast Enter the Escape Pod Flash Contest! It runs June 1- July 4, stories must be under 500 words. More information at the link. Next week… we discover that food is, in fact, love. Podcasts Stephen Gaskell no no http://escapepod.org/2010/05/12/ep240-the-last-mcdougals/ http://escapepod.org/2010/05/12/ep240-the-last-mcdougals/#comments Thu, 13 May 2010 03:56:20 +0000 SFEley http://escapepod.org/?p=604 http://escapepod.org/2010/05/12/ep240-the-last-mcdougals/feed/ 0 0:31:19 By David D. Levine. Read by Stephen Eley. Discuss on our forums. First appeared in Asimov’s, January 2006. Special closing song: “Blue,” by Yoko Kanno. As the old man came in, letting the door close gently behind him, an expression[...] By David D. Levine. Read by Stephen Eley. Discuss on our forums. First appeared in Asimov’s, January 2006. Special closing song: “Blue,” by Yoko Kanno. As the old man came in, letting the door close gently behind him, an expression came over his face that Garth had seen many times before: a compound of misty nostalgia and appalled astonishment. His gaze swept across the yellow and orange fiberglass chairs, their cracks and dings lovingly but visibly repaired; the plastic-topped tables with the white half-moons rubbed by millions of elbows; the light softly shining from the satiny steel of the napkin and catsup dispensers. Finally the old man’s eyes stopped dead on the smiling face of the six-foot-tall fiberglass cow that stood at the end of the counter, wearing an apron and a chef’s hat. “My God,” he said, “it’s Moogle McDougal.” “It certainly is,” said Garth. “Welcome to McDougal’s. May I take your order?” “Give me a minute,” he replied as he perused the menu. He had a comfortable old boot of a voice, rough but mellow. “It’s been… jeez, thirty years? …since I’ve been in one of these places. Um, I’ll have a double cheeseburger, a small order of fries, and….” He grinned. “…and a shake. Chocolate.” Rated PG. Contains some violence and is high in saturated fats. Podcasts David D. Levine no no http://escapepod.org/2010/02/13/ep238-wind-from-a-dying-star/ http://escapepod.org/2010/02/13/ep238-wind-from-a-dying-star/#comments Sat, 13 Feb 2010 20:33:15 +0000 SFEley http://escapepod.org/?p=583 http://escapepod.org/2010/02/13/ep238-wind-from-a-dying-star/feed/ 0 0:43:01 By David D. Levine. Read by Meg Westfox. First appeared in Bones of the World, ed. Bruce Holland Rogers. After a time she found a small patch of zeren. She spread across it, taking a little solace from its sparkling sweetness. “Zero-point en[...] By David D. Levine. Read by Meg Westfox. First appeared in Bones of the World, ed. Bruce Holland Rogers. After a time she found a small patch of zeren. She spread across it, taking a little solace from its sparkling sweetness. “Zero-point energy” was what Old John called it, but to Gunai and the rest of her tribe it was zeren, delicious and rare. Gunai recalled a time when zeren was something you could almost ignore — a constant crackling thrum beneath the surface of perception — but now there were just a few thin patches here and there. These days the tribe subsisted mostly on a thin diet of starlight, and even that was growing cold. Soon they would be forced to move on again. Yeoshi had told her the foraging was better in the direction of the galactic core, but it was so far… Rated PG. Contains sacrifice and space battles. Of a sort. Podcasts David D. Levine no no http://escapepod.org/2010/02/01/ep236-still-on-the-road/ http://escapepod.org/2010/02/01/ep236-still-on-the-road/#comments Mon, 01 Feb 2010 07:31:26 +0000 SFEley http://escapepod.org/?p=578 http://escapepod.org/2010/02/01/ep236-still-on-the-road/feed/ 0 0:11:00 By Geoffrey A. Landis. Read by Stephen Eley. First appeared in Asimov’s, December 2008. Turns out, you know, that old dharma bum never made it off the wheel of karma. He had too many attachments, to the road, to words; and if you love the thi[...] By Geoffrey A. Landis. Read by Stephen Eley. First appeared in Asimov’s, December 2008. Turns out, you know, that old dharma bum never made it off the wheel of karma. He had too many attachments, to the road, to words; and if you love the things of the world of Mara too much you fall back into the world, like gravity pulling back a rocket that doesn’t reach escape velocity. Two, three thousand years later, he’s still on the road. Really, nothing’s changed. And Neal, that old prankster, Neal never really did want to transcend, he loved to see it all streaming past the window, a constant moving circus disappearing in the rear-view mirror, loved to talk, loved it all. Rated PG. Contains a little profanity and a lot of beat. Podcasts Geoffrey A. Landis no no http://escapepod.org/2010/01/23/ep235-on-the-human-plan/ http://escapepod.org/2010/01/23/ep235-on-the-human-plan/#comments Sat, 23 Jan 2010 21:40:26 +0000 SFEley http://escapepod.org/?p=574 http://escapepod.org/2010/01/23/ep235-on-the-human-plan/feed/ 0 0:29:30 By Jay Lake. Read by Mike Boris (of Mike Boris Audio). First appeared in Lone Star Stories, February 2009. I am called Dog the Digger. I am not mighty, neither am I fearsome. Should you require bravos, there are muscle-boys aplenty among the rat-b[...] By Jay Lake. Read by Mike Boris (of Mike Boris Audio). First appeared in Lone Star Stories, February 2009. I am called Dog the Digger. I am not mighty, neither am I fearsome. Should you require bravos, there are muscle-boys aplenty among the rat-bars of any lowtown on this raddled world. If it is a wizard you want, follow the powder-trails of crushed silicon and wolf’s blood to their dark and winking lairs. Scholars can be found in their libraries, taikonauts in their launch bunkers and ship foundries, priests amid the tallow-gleaming depths of their bone-ribbed cathedrals. What I do is dig. For bodies, for treasure, for the rust-pocked hulks of history, for the sheer pleasure of moving what cannot be moved and finding what rots beneath. You may hire me for an afternoon or a month or the entire turning of the year. It makes me no mind whatsoever. As for you, I know what you want. You want a story. Rated PG. Contains entropy and age. A lot of it. Podcasts Jay Lake no no http://escapepod.org/2010/01/08/ep233-union-dues-the-threnody-of-johnny-toruko/ http://escapepod.org/2010/01/08/ep233-union-dues-the-threnody-of-johnny-toruko/#comments Fri, 08 Jan 2010 16:46:56 +0000 SFEley http://escapepod.org/?p=565 http://escapepod.org/2010/01/08/ep233-union-dues-the-threnody-of-johnny-toruko/feed/ 0 0:44:20 By Jeffrey R. DeRego. Read by Stephen Eley. Discuss on our forums. All stories by Jeffrey R. DeRego All stories read by Stephen Eley I duck through the door behind her. The place is jammed with customers. “You have any money? I didn’t th[...] By Jeffrey R. DeRego. Read by Stephen Eley. Discuss on our forums. All stories by Jeffrey R. DeRego All stories read by Stephen Eley I duck through the door behind her. The place is jammed with customers. “You have any money? I didn’t think to ask Miss Jennifer for any.” TK answers, “don’t worry, just tell me what you want.” “Large with extra sugar and cream.” TK grins and focuses her attention on the line of people stretching from the entrance down to the counter. They all sidestep and she walks unimpeded front of the pack. “One large black, and one large with extra sugar and cream.” The barrista, a girl of about 18, repeats the order in a flat monotone. “And these are on the house. Everyone gets free coffee for the next two hours.” “Free for everyone,” the clerk answers then puts our order together. TK snickers and hands the coffee over. Rated PG. Contains mature themes, violence, and some profanity. You know. Teenage stuff. Referenced Sites: Official Union Dues Web Site Union Dues on Twitter Clonepod – Previous Team Shikaragaki stories Podcasts Jeffrey R. DeRego no no http://escapepod.org/2009/12/31/ep232-flash-special/ http://escapepod.org/2009/12/31/ep232-flash-special/#comments Thu, 31 Dec 2009 23:07:40 +0000 SFEley http://escapepod.org/?p=561 http://escapepod.org/2009/12/31/ep232-flash-special/feed/ 0 0:26:54 This week Escape Pod presents three flash stories: Alloy By Marissa Lingen. Read by Electra Allenton. First appeared in Nature, September 2007. Flare By Kyle Deas. Read by Stephen Eley. My Grandfather’s River By Brenda Cooper. Read by Anna Ele[...] This week Escape Pod presents three flash stories: Alloy By Marissa Lingen. Read by Electra Allenton. First appeared in Nature, September 2007. Flare By Kyle Deas. Read by Stephen Eley. My Grandfather’s River By Brenda Cooper. Read by Anna Eley. First appeared in Nature, August 2006. Rated PG. Can get a bit sad in places. Referenced Sites: Cybrosis — A podcast novel by P.C. Haring Flash, Podcasts Marissa Lingen, Kyle Deas, and Brenda Cooper no no http://escapepod.org/2009/12/25/ep231-solitary-as-an-oyster/ http://escapepod.org/2009/12/25/ep231-solitary-as-an-oyster/#comments Fri, 25 Dec 2009 09:00:29 +0000 SFEley http://escapepod.org/?p=555 http://escapepod.org/2009/12/25/ep231-solitary-as-an-oyster/feed/ 0 0:57:20 Editor’s Note: There are significant audio issues in the first half of this file. Alasdair Stuart has volunteered to record it again and we’ll post a corrected version soon. Thank you for your patience. By Mur Lafferty. Read by Alasdai[...] Editor’s Note: There are significant audio issues in the first half of this file. Alasdair Stuart has volunteered to record it again and we’ll post a corrected version soon. Thank you for your patience. By Mur Lafferty. Read by Alasdair Stuart. Special Closing Music: “Oh Come All Ye Faithful” by Twisted Sister. “Who’s there?” the voice asked, rough and unpleasant. Robert and Lydia glanced at each other. “The Paranormalists, Mr. Scrooge. You called us a couple of hours ago,” Robert said. “Took you long enough,” the voice said. The door clicked as Scrooge unlocked several locks, and finally it slid open a couple of centimeters. Scrooge peered out, the heavy chain still on the door. Jenny flipped the night vision off her camera to get a clear view of him in the foyer’s dim light. He was much smaller than his voice implied, a diminutive man who was probably a bear in the conference room, but a pussycat when in thin pajamas and a robe. Well, not a pussycat. Something more like a weasel. Rated PG. Contains ghostly visitations. Film at 11. Podcasts Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2009/12/24/ep230-candy-art/ http://escapepod.org/2009/12/24/ep230-candy-art/#comments Thu, 24 Dec 2009 08:46:51 +0000 SFEley http://escapepod.org/?p=548 http://escapepod.org/2009/12/24/ep230-candy-art/feed/ 0 0:38:46 By James Patrick Kelly. Read by Kathryn Baker. Special Closing Music: “Podsafe Christmas Song” by Jonathan Coulton. First appeared in Asimov’s, December 2002. “They’re uploads, Jennifer.” When I first met Mel, I thought the sleepy[...] By James Patrick Kelly. Read by Kathryn Baker. Special Closing Music: “Podsafe Christmas Song” by Jonathan Coulton. First appeared in Asimov’s, December 2002. “They’re uploads, Jennifer.” When I first met Mel, I thought the sleepy voice was sexy. “How can they move in with us when they’re not anywhere?” “They bought a puppet to live in,” I say. “Life-sized, nuskin, real speak – top of the line. It’s supposed to be my Christmas present. Bring the family back together for the holidays and live unhappily ever after.” “A puppet.” A puzzlement glyph pops up at the bottom of my screen. “As in one puppet?” “It’s a timeshare – you know. They live it serially. Ten hours of him, fourteen of her.” “Not fifty-fifty?” “He’s giving her the difference so he can take extra time off for his bass tournament in June.” Rated PG. Contains family drama and way too much sugar. Podcasts James Patrick Kelly no no http://escapepod.org/2009/12/18/ep229-littleblossom-makes-a-deal-with-the-devil/ http://escapepod.org/2009/12/18/ep229-littleblossom-makes-a-deal-with-the-devil/#comments Fri, 18 Dec 2009 07:40:33 +0000 SFEley http://escapepod.org/?p=545 http://escapepod.org/2009/12/18/ep229-littleblossom-makes-a-deal-with-the-devil/feed/ 0 0:34:38 By S. Hutson Blount. Read by Eugie Foster. Sponsored by SleepPhones – Pajamas For Your Ears From beneath the camouflage of kindling on her back came Grandma Thinkbox’s quiet voice. “You should have something hot to drink, child. Do not make yo[...] By S. Hutson Blount. Read by Eugie Foster. Sponsored by SleepPhones – Pajamas For Your Ears From beneath the camouflage of kindling on her back came Grandma Thinkbox’s quiet voice. “You should have something hot to drink, child. Do not make yourself sick.” “Yes, nainai. As soon as I check on Pig.” After Comrade Liu had been evacuated with the last of the support troops, Xiaoying had rearranged the personality of her assistant battlefield AI into something that suited her better. If she were going to spend months carrying it around, she wasn’t going to listen to it drone on like a party chief. The way it talked now reminded her of her grandmother. The missiles had overlays for their small brains, too, and she’d decorated them with personalities as well. Boredom was a more immediate enemy than Japan. Rated PG. Contains violence and political complexity. Podcasts S. Hutson Blount no no http://escapepod.org/2009/12/10/ep228-everything-that-matters/ http://escapepod.org/2009/12/10/ep228-everything-that-matters/#comments Thu, 10 Dec 2009 20:03:04 +0000 SFEley http://escapepod.org/?p=530 http://escapepod.org/2009/12/10/ep228-everything-that-matters/feed/ 0 0:57:13 By Jeff Spock. Read by Geoff Michelli. Hosted by Norm Sherman (The Drabblecast). Closing music: “Heartache Over Innsmouth” by Norm Sherman. Sponsored by SleepPhones – Pajamas For Your Ears “I have done over fifteen hundred di[...] By Jeff Spock. Read by Geoff Michelli. Hosted by Norm Sherman (The Drabblecast). Closing music: “Heartache Over Innsmouth” by Norm Sherman. Sponsored by SleepPhones – Pajamas For Your Ears “I have done over fifteen hundred dives,” I said, and let that sink in. The number was astronomical for a guy my age, even for a professional. “I have done free diving down to eighty meters. I have worked as a commercial diver and in commercial salvage.” They were listening and nodding, concentrating on me while recording the conversation. “Then you, of all people, should have known better,” said the little guy. “I did know better!” They were acting like the shark was the victim, not me. “How many people in the whole fucking galaxy could have come up alive, huh? How many would have had the technology and experience and conditioning?” “If you want our congratulations, you got ‘em,” said Odenny. “But we’re more interested in what you were doing.” Podcasts Jeff Spock no no http://escapepod.org/2009/11/12/ep224-the-ghost-in-the-death-trap/ http://escapepod.org/2009/11/12/ep224-the-ghost-in-the-death-trap/#comments Thu, 12 Nov 2009 10:30:18 +0000 JeremyT http://escapepod.org/?p=511 http://escapepod.org/2009/11/12/ep224-the-ghost-in-the-death-trap/feed/ 0 0:00:01 By Marjorie James Read by Stephen Eley. All stories by Marjorie James. All stories read by Stephen Eley. Editor’s note:  this is a sequel to EP007.  Listen to it here. Flies buzzed around the edges of the huge stone block, gathering at the riv[...] By Marjorie James Read by Stephen Eley. All stories by Marjorie James. All stories read by Stephen Eley. Editor’s note:  this is a sequel to EP007.  Listen to it here. Flies buzzed around the edges of the huge stone block, gathering at the rivulets of blood that ran down to the floor. A bit of what looked like it might be intestine hung off one corner, drawing special attention. It was a testament to the force of the collision that fragments of bone and tissue were scattered all the way down the passage, some even wedged in the carvings in the stone walls. Two men surveyed the scene with dismay. “See? And this just keeps happening. It’s getting so we can’t get anything done around here,” said the taller of the two, a grey-haired man with red eyes and a patchy beard. The other man, younger but not precisely young, hauled himself up on top of the block and examined the mechanism. “This bar’s been sliced right through.” He looked back down at his client. “You say this was a poltergeist?” Rated PG for some violence and language. Podcasts Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2009/10/22/ep220-little-ambushes/ http://escapepod.org/2009/10/22/ep220-little-ambushes/#comments Thu, 22 Oct 2009 10:30:20 +0000 JeremyT http://escapepod.org/?p=492 http://escapepod.org/2009/10/22/ep220-little-ambushes/feed/ 0 0:20:20 By Joanne Merriam. Read by Rachel Swirsky. All stories by Joanne Merriam All stories read by Rachel Swirsky Practically the first thing she did when she took in the alien was to give him a new name. He looked at her outstretched hand long enough to [...] By Joanne Merriam. Read by Rachel Swirsky. All stories by Joanne Merriam All stories read by Rachel Swirsky Practically the first thing she did when she took in the alien was to give him a new name. He looked at her outstretched hand long enough to annoy her, and then grasped it with his four opposable fingers and hung on limply until she wrenched her hand out of his moist and over-jointed grip. She said, “I’m Sarah,” and he said his name, or what she assumed was his name, in return, rolling the syllables around in his mouth like so many rough pebbles. His name was too long, something like Shperidth with extra grunting noises in the middle, like a car backfiring very far away. She tried to repeat it and couldn’t, while he stood on her doorstep sweating and folding his fingers around each other. She frowned at him. “I can’t say that,” she said. Rated PG-13 for some adult situations and coarse language. Podcasts Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2009/10/15/ep220-come-all-ye-faithful/ http://escapepod.org/2009/10/15/ep220-come-all-ye-faithful/#comments Thu, 15 Oct 2009 10:30:41 +0000 JeremyT http://escapepod.org/?p=489 http://escapepod.org/2009/10/15/ep220-come-all-ye-faithful/feed/ 0 0:34:05 by Robert J. Sawyer Read by Mike Boris “Damned social engineers,” said Boothby, frowning his freckled face. He looked at me, as if expecting an objection to the profanity, and seemed disappointed that I didn’t rise to the bait. “As you said earlier,[...] by Robert J. Sawyer Read by Mike Boris “Damned social engineers,” said Boothby, frowning his freckled face. He looked at me, as if expecting an objection to the profanity, and seemed disappointed that I didn’t rise to the bait. “As you said earlier,” I replied calmly, “it doesn’t make any practical difference.” He tried to get me again: “Damn straight. Whether Jody and I just live together or are legally married shouldn’t matter one whit to anyone but us.” I wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of telling him it mattered to God; I just let him go on. “Anyway,” he said, spreading hands that were also freckled, “since we have to be married before the Company will give us a license to have a baby, Jody’s decided she wants the whole shebang: the cake, the fancy reception, the big service.” Rated PG. Podcasts, Uncategorized Robert J. Sawyer no no http://escapepod.org/2009/08/13/ep211-carthago-delenda-est/ http://escapepod.org/2009/08/13/ep211-carthago-delenda-est/#comments Thu, 13 Aug 2009 20:35:26 +0000 JeremyT http://escapepod.org/?p=435 Discuss on our forums. Story originally appeared in Federations. All stories by Genevieve Valentine All stories read by Kate Baker. Wren Hex-Yemenni woke early. They had to teach her everything from scratch, and there wasn’t time for her to learn anything new before she hit fifty and [...]]]> http://escapepod.org/2009/08/13/ep211-carthago-delenda-est/feed/ 21 0:30:50 by Genevieve Valentine Read by Kate Baker a href=”http://forum.escapeartists.net/index.php?board=1.0″>Discuss on our forums. Story originally appeared in Federations. All stories by Genevieve Valentine All stories read by Kate Baker.[...] by Genevieve Valentine Read by Kate Baker a href=”http://forum.escapeartists.net/index.php?board=1.0″>Discuss on our forums. Story originally appeared in Federations. All stories by Genevieve Valentine All stories read by Kate Baker. Wren Hex-Yemenni woke early. They had to teach her everything from scratch, and there wasn’t time for her to learn anything new before she hit fifty and had to be expired. “Watch it,” the other techs told me when I was starting out. “You don’t want a Hex on your hands.” By then we were monitoring Wren Hepta-Yemenni. She fell into bed with Dorado ambassador 214, though I don’t know what he did to deserve it and she didn’t even seem sad when he expired. When they torched him she went over with the rest of the delegates, and they bowed or closed their eyes or pressed their tentacles to the floors of their glass cases, and afterwards they toasted him with champagne or liquid nitrogen. Before we expired Hepta, later that year, she smiled at me. “Make sure Octa’s not ugly, okay? Just in case—for 215.” Wren Octa-Yemenni hates him, so it’s not like it matters. Rated PG for political machinations and waiting… Podcasts Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2009/08/06/ep210-the-hastillan-weed/ http://escapepod.org/2009/08/06/ep210-the-hastillan-weed/#comments Thu, 06 Aug 2009 20:05:11 +0000 JeremyT http://escapepod.org/?p=432 http://escapepod.org/2009/08/06/ep210-the-hastillan-weed/feed/ 12 0:41:20 by Ian Creasey Narrated by MarBelle This story originally appeared in Asimov’s Science Fiction (February 2006). “Since we have so many new faces,” I said to the half-dozen volunteers, “I’ll start with a tools talk. Sa[...] by Ian Creasey Narrated by MarBelle This story originally appeared in Asimov’s Science Fiction (February 2006). “Since we have so many new faces,” I said to the half-dozen volunteers, “I’ll start with a tools talk. Safety points for the spade — the most important is that when you’re digging, you push with the ball of your foot.” I picked up a spade from the pile, and demonstrated by digging up a bluebell growing by the hedge. From the large bells all round the stem, I knew it was a Spanish bluebell, a garden escape that if left unchecked would hybridise with the natives. Too late now, though. You can tell the British bluebell because the flowers are smaller, deeper blue, and they’re usually on one side of the stem, so the plant droops under their weight as if bowing down before its foreign conqueror. There’s hardly a wood left in England where you’ll see only native bluebells. “Or you can use your heel on the spade.” I heaved the invader out of the earth and tossed it aside, knowing it would safely rot. “But you should never press down with the middle of your foot. The bones in the arch are delicate, and you can injure yourself.” Rated PG for plants with many uses. Podcasts, Uncategorized Ian Creasey no no http://escapepod.org/2009/07/30/ep209-on-the-eyeball-floor/ http://escapepod.org/2009/07/30/ep209-on-the-eyeball-floor/#comments Thu, 30 Jul 2009 10:00:39 +0000 JeremyT http://escapepod.org/?p=427 http://escapepod.org/2009/07/30/ep209-on-the-eyeball-floor/feed/ 13 0:37:38 by Tina Connolly read by Norm Sherman Closing song by Andrew Richardson We’ve got robotic arms to put the eyeballs in. Metal clamps to pulldown the eyelids. Tony, on Four, keeps the grease vats filled. Oil squirts nineteen times a minute to ke[...] by Tina Connolly read by Norm Sherman Closing song by Andrew Richardson We’ve got robotic arms to put the eyeballs in. Metal clamps to pulldown the eyelids. Tony, on Four, keeps the grease vats filled. Oil squirts nineteen times a minute to keep the eye sockets from squeaking. Tiny slick needles stitch on the lashes, while millions of different irises get stamped in magenta and yellow and cyan, so no two will ever be alike, just like us. All that, and they can’t engineer anything—or anyone—to take over my job. People in Organs go home coated with grease and vinegar; people in Bones have lost fingers to the machines, and still nobody wants the job where a hundred half-live cyborgs line up in rows, twitching when your back is turned. Waiting for someone to talk to them, feel for them. Transcend them to life. There are safety signs around the factory. “Scrub Up.” “Know Thyself.” “Don’t Blink.” That last is the best piece of advice, here on the eyeball floor. Rated PG for for angry awakening sentience and some swearing. Podcasts, Uncategorized Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2009/07/23/ep208-an-almanac-for-the-alien-invaders/ http://escapepod.org/2009/07/23/ep208-an-almanac-for-the-alien-invaders/#comments Thu, 23 Jul 2009 17:49:08 +0000 JeremyT http://escapepod.org/?p=421 http://escapepod.org/2009/07/23/ep208-an-almanac-for-the-alien-invaders/feed/ 26 0:40:56 By Merrie Haskell Read by Sarah Tolbert Previously appeared in Asimov’s. In January, there will be an annular solar eclipse, with the path of annularity moving through the Indian Ocean and into Sumatra and Borneo. Two days later, aliens will [...] By Merrie Haskell Read by Sarah Tolbert Previously appeared in Asimov’s. In January, there will be an annular solar eclipse, with the path of annularity moving through the Indian Ocean and into Sumatra and Borneo. Two days later, aliens will invade Earth. No spaceships will loom large in blue skies, nor hover over our cities. At night, though, when we see blinking dots of light near the horizon, as small and pale as any star, we’ll think they’re planes or satellites of human origin. They won’t be. These are alien ships, come for conquest. That is all we can see. What we hear is just as faint and difficult to resolve: we hear rumors. Or rather, one persistent rumor: “the aliens want volunteers.” Naturally, I and my junior faculty friends need to drink quantities of beer to discuss this in detail. I expound that it’s a hoax. Rated PG-13 for adult concepts and alien recruiters. Podcasts, Uncategorized Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2009/07/11/ep206-rogue-farm/ http://escapepod.org/2009/07/11/ep206-rogue-farm/#comments Sat, 11 Jul 2009 21:00:10 +0000 SFEley http://escapepod.org/?p=409 http://escapepod.org/2009/07/11/ep206-rogue-farm/feed/ 33 0:40:30 By Charles Stross Recorded at Balticon 43, May 23, 2009 Read by:Joe -Jared Axelrod (of The Voice of Free Planet X), Maddie - J.R. Blackwell (of Voices of Tomorrow), The Farm - Evo Terra and Sheila Dee (of Evo at 11, et al.), Maddie - J.R. Blackwell [...] By Charles Stross Recorded at Balticon 43, May 23, 2009 Read by:Joe -Jared Axelrod (of The Voice of Free Planet X), Maddie - J.R. Blackwell (of Voices of Tomorrow), The Farm - Evo Terra and Sheila Dee (of Evo at 11, et al.), Maddie - J.R. Blackwell (of Voices of Tomorrow), Brenda the Barkeep - Dee Reed (of Nobilis Erotica), Wendy the Rat - Laura Burns, Art the Boy Toy - John Cmar, Bob the Dog - Earl Newton (of Stranger Things), Narrator - Stephen Eley. Discuss on our forums. All stories by Charles Stross All stories read by John Cmar, JR Blackwell, Evo Terra, Sheila DeeJared Axelrod, Dee Reed, Laura Burns, Earl Newton, Stephen Eley Special Thanks To: Paul Fischer (of The Balticon Podcast) for instigating and organizing Nobilis Reed (of Nobilis Erotica) for engineering First appeared in Live Without a Net, ed. Lou Anders Now available in Wireless, by Charles Stross “Buggerit, I don’t have time for this,” Joe muttered. The stable waiting for the small herd of cloned spidercows cluttering up the north paddock was still knee-deep in manure, and the tractor seat wasn’t getting any warmer while he shivered out here waiting for Maddie to come and sort this thing out. It wasn’t a big herd, but it was as big as his land and his labour could manage – the big biofabricator in the shed could assemble mammalian livestock faster than he could feed them up and sell them with an honest HAND-RAISED NOT VAT-GROWN label. “What do you want with us?” he yelled up at the gently buzzing farm. “Brains, fresh brains for baby Jesus,” crooned the farm in a warm contralto, startling Joe half out of his skin. “Buy my brains!” Half a dozen disturbing cauliflower shapes poked suggestively out of the farms’ back then retracted again, coyly. “Don’t want no brains around here,” Joe said stubbornly, his fingers whitening on the stock of the shotgun. “Don’t want your kind round here, neither. Go away.” Rated PG for strong language, chemical violence, and drug-abusing dogs. Podcasts Charles Stross no no http://escapepod.org/2009/06/25/ep-205-requiem-in-d-minor-for-prions-whale-and-burning-bush/ http://escapepod.org/2009/06/25/ep-205-requiem-in-d-minor-for-prions-whale-and-burning-bush/#comments Thu, 25 Jun 2009 19:40:46 +0000 JeremyT http://escapepod.org/?p=402 http://escapepod.org/2009/06/25/ep-205-requiem-in-d-minor-for-prions-whale-and-burning-bush/feed/ 6 0:26:25 By Ian McHugh Read by Frank Key of Hooting Yard First appeared in Hub #24. Kevin switched the audio over to the projector. The lecture hall was filled with outdoor noises. Wind hummed softly over the microphone, cattle lowed nearby, a truck acceler[...] By Ian McHugh Read by Frank Key of Hooting Yard First appeared in Hub #24. Kevin switched the audio over to the projector. The lecture hall was filled with outdoor noises. Wind hummed softly over the microphone, cattle lowed nearby, a truck accelerated in the distance. A roan steer staggered around a concreted yard, its mute distress accompanied by clattering hooves and the fleshy slap of its thigh striking the ground when it fell. A new sound was introduced – incongruous, but familiar to Kevin’s audience. Whale song. Gradually, the cow’s shaking stilled, until it could stand securely. Its muscles continued to tremble, but not enough to upset its equilibrium while it listened. Rated PG-13 for violence and mad cow disease. Podcasts, Uncategorized Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2009/06/18/ep-204-the-fifth-zhi/ http://escapepod.org/2009/06/18/ep-204-the-fifth-zhi/#comments Thu, 18 Jun 2009 20:59:45 +0000 JeremyT http://escapepod.org/?p=396 http://escapepod.org/2009/06/18/ep-204-the-fifth-zhi/feed/ 26 0:36:33 By Mercurio D. Rivera Read by Steve Eley First appeared in Interzone Zhi 4′s scream pierces the Siberian night. My spiked metal boots crunch through the snow as I race towards him, with Zhi 6 running at my side. The nanochip in my brainstem[...] By Mercurio D. Rivera Read by Steve Eley First appeared in Interzone Zhi 4′s scream pierces the Siberian night. My spiked metal boots crunch through the snow as I race towards him, with Zhi 6 running at my side. The nanochip in my brainstem clicks on, and I reach out with my mind, but I can’t sense even a trace of Zhi 4. A few seconds earlier his form had been outlined by the dark turquoise glow of the force field. We stop twenty feet short of the field’s perimeter. Beyond it, the hazy silhouette of the colossal Stalk looms, its millions of cilia undulating. My bodysuit hums as it transmits data back to Xiang Xu Base, situated behind the Rusanov ice cap half a mile away. My pulse flutters in anticipation and I take a deep breath to try to rein in my excitement. I — like all Zhis — have been designed with an insatiable curiosity about the Stalk’s origins and vulnerabilities. Knowing I’ve been bred to feel this way doesn’t make me feel it any less. Where did the Stalk come from? Why is it here? How can it thrive in these temperatures? I see the same questions reflected in Zhi 6′s expression. Rated PG-13 for cloning and some adult themes. Podcasts, Uncategorized Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2009/06/15/escape-pod-flash-tired/ http://escapepod.org/2009/06/15/escape-pod-flash-tired/#comments Mon, 15 Jun 2009 04:01:29 +0000 worldsoftomorrow http://escapepod.org/?p=361 http://escapepod.org/2009/06/15/escape-pod-flash-tired/feed/ 13 0:11:02 By Michael Bishop Read by John Meagher One morning, Gordon Pointer received an e-message from the left-front Goodstone tire on his old Callisto sedan. (He had bought the car used over a decade ago and retrofitted it for the intelligent interstates [...] By Michael Bishop Read by John Meagher One morning, Gordon Pointer received an e-message from the left-front Goodstone tire on his old Callisto sedan. (He had bought the car used over a decade ago and retrofitted it for the intelligent interstates of the Piedmont metrosprawl.) Gordon abhorred palmflips, infraspecs, logomaniacs, microserfs, lapcops, and digital Kleenex, but he lived at the computerminal in his Callisto, journeying between office foci to talk with other human fossils like himself. He did not quail before occasional sitreps from his lead tire. Rated PG for a worryingly low miles per gallon Flash, Podcasts Michael Bishop no no http://escapepod.org/2009/06/08/escape-pod-flash-one-trick-dog/ http://escapepod.org/2009/06/08/escape-pod-flash-one-trick-dog/#comments Mon, 08 Jun 2009 04:01:08 +0000 worldsoftomorrow http://escapepod.org/?p=360 http://escapepod.org/2009/06/08/escape-pod-flash-one-trick-dog/feed/ 12 0:06:19 By Bruce Boston Read by J.C. Hutchins Mr. Wayne was taking his daily exercise, walking Arthur around the lake in Nevley Park, when the sky darkened and a light snow began to fall. A few flakes fluttered against his cheeks. He could feel the cold thr[...] By Bruce Boston Read by J.C. Hutchins Mr. Wayne was taking his daily exercise, walking Arthur around the lake in Nevley Park, when the sky darkened and a light snow began to fall. A few flakes fluttered against his cheeks. He could feel the cold through his heavy topcoat. He enjoyed the park when it was deserted, but at his age he couldn’t afford a chill. He thumbed the control in his pocket. Arthur turned left onto a bridge that would cut their return journey by a good half mile. Mr. Wayne followed. Rated K9 for dogs at the cutting edge. Flash, Podcasts Bruce Boston no no http://escapepod.org/2009/06/01/escape-pod-flash-patent-infringement/ http://escapepod.org/2009/06/01/escape-pod-flash-patent-infringement/#comments Mon, 01 Jun 2009 04:01:41 +0000 worldsoftomorrow http://escapepod.org/?p=358 http://escapepod.org/2009/06/01/escape-pod-flash-patent-infringement/feed/ 12 0:11:22 By Nancy Kress Read by Steve Anderson Kegelman-Ballston Corporation is proud to announce the first public release of its new drug, Halitex, which cures Ulbarton’s Flu completely after one ten-pill course of treatment. Ulbarton’s Flu, as the public[...] By Nancy Kress Read by Steve Anderson Kegelman-Ballston Corporation is proud to announce the first public release of its new drug, Halitex, which cures Ulbarton’s Flu completely after one ten-pill course of treatment. Ulbarton’s Flu, as the public knows all too well, now afflicts upwards of thirty million Americans, with the number growing daily as the highly contagious flu spreads. Halitex “flu-proofs” the body by inserting genes tailored to confer immunity to this persistent and debilitating scourge, whose symptoms include coughing, muscle aches, and fatigue. Because the virus remains in the body even after symptoms disappear, Ulbarton’s Flu can recur in a given patient at any time. Halitex renders each recurrence ineffectual. Rated PG after intensive clinical testing. Flash, Podcasts Nancy Kress no no http://escapepod.org/2009/05/25/escape-pod-flash-taco/ http://escapepod.org/2009/05/25/escape-pod-flash-taco/#comments Mon, 25 May 2009 04:01:38 +0000 worldsoftomorrow http://escapepod.org/?p=359 http://escapepod.org/2009/05/25/escape-pod-flash-taco/feed/ 15 0:03:03 By Greg Van Eekhout Read by John Meagher “Hey, tell me, this look like Jesus to you?” I come to Tito’s Tacos for a lot of reasons. The freeway overpass ambience, the way the old men in the kitchen wrap the burritos tighter than Cub[...] By Greg Van Eekhout Read by John Meagher “Hey, tell me, this look like Jesus to you?” I come to Tito’s Tacos for a lot of reasons. The freeway overpass ambience, the way the old men in the kitchen wrap the burritos tighter than Cuban cigars, the shiny Kennedy 50-cent pieces you always get as part of your change. A lot of reasons. But conversation isn’t among them. Nonetheless, I dutifully look up from my lunch to see what the guy at the next table over is talking about. Rated PG for a possibly edible messiah Flash, Podcasts Greg Van Eekhout no no http://escapepod.org/2009/05/19/escape-pod-flash-betting-the-family-farm/ http://escapepod.org/2009/05/19/escape-pod-flash-betting-the-family-farm/#comments Tue, 19 May 2009 12:00:09 +0000 worldsoftomorrow http://escapepod.org/?p=356 http://escapepod.org/2009/05/19/escape-pod-flash-betting-the-family-farm/feed/ 7 0:07:27 By Wenonah Lyon Read by Elie Hirschman It had originally thought the goal was to hit the two small creatures in the distance. They appeared to be identical to the three creatures whom he had joined in the game. First approximation: separated by som[...] By Wenonah Lyon Read by Elie Hirschman It had originally thought the goal was to hit the two small creatures in the distance. They appeared to be identical to the three creatures whom he had joined in the game. First approximation: separated by some distance, one attempts to down the group ahead of one using one of many metal-tipped sticks (called ‘clubs’) to ‘drive’ a small, hard ball. Those behind would, presumably, be attempting to hit one. So, one dodged and drove. Rated PG for frequent golf horror Flash, Podcasts Wenonah Lyon no no http://escapepod.org/2009/05/18/escape-pod-flash-off-base/ http://escapepod.org/2009/05/18/escape-pod-flash-off-base/#comments Mon, 18 May 2009 04:01:11 +0000 worldsoftomorrow http://escapepod.org/?p=357 http://escapepod.org/2009/05/18/escape-pod-flash-off-base/feed/ 22 0:00:01 By Stevens R. Miller Read by Steve Anderson Her boyfriend put a slim hand to his forehead, as though shielding his eyes from sunlight, even though the sun had set some minutes before. Where the girl had pointed was a bright star, moving east. Rated [...] By Stevens R. Miller Read by Steve Anderson Her boyfriend put a slim hand to his forehead, as though shielding his eyes from sunlight, even though the sun had set some minutes before. Where the girl had pointed was a bright star, moving east. Rated PG for frequent golf horror Flash, Podcasts Stevens R. Miller no no http://escapepod.org/2009/05/14/episode-199-elvis-in-the-attic/ http://escapepod.org/2009/05/14/episode-199-elvis-in-the-attic/#comments Thu, 14 May 2009 12:00:29 +0000 JeremyT http://escapepod.org/?p=367 http://escapepod.org/2009/05/14/episode-199-elvis-in-the-attic/feed/ 14 0:30:30 By Catherine M. Morrison Read by Ben Phillips First appeared in SCIFICTION. We had an Elvis in the attic.  Again. Echoing in the ducts, his voice woke me around 2 A.M.  I hopped from bed and headed for the attic–they always it up there.  A V[...] By Catherine M. Morrison Read by Ben Phillips First appeared in SCIFICTION. We had an Elvis in the attic.  Again. Echoing in the ducts, his voice woke me around 2 A.M.  I hopped from bed and headed for the attic–they always it up there.  A Vegas Elvis stood by a rack of old clothes singing “Blue Christmas” to them. As I edged in the door, he segued to “Jingle Bell Rock.”  He waved me down to the front of his meager audience, conferring a special favor.  I settled cross-legged on the floor and enjoyed his tunes. For months there has been an Elvis infestation all over town, but this was the first Vegas Elvis we’d got.  He worked the room hard, sweat dripping down the side of his forehead.  He was dressed in his trademark white jumpsuit with the spangles and beads and the big white cape he flourished dramatically.  The acoustics up here sucked, but even a big fat Elvis could rock the house. Rated PG: contains Elvii. Podcasts Catherine M. Morrison no no http://escapepod.org/2009/04/30/episode-197-from-babels-falln-glory-we-fled/ http://escapepod.org/2009/04/30/episode-197-from-babels-falln-glory-we-fled/#comments Thu, 30 Apr 2009 19:59:54 +0000 JeremyT http://escapepod.org/?p=365 http://escapepod.org/2009/04/30/episode-197-from-babels-falln-glory-we-fled/feed/ 30 0:59:00 By Michael Swanwick Read by Sarah Tolbert First appeared in Asimov’s Feb 2008 Imagine a cross between Byzantium and a termite mound. Imagine a jeweled mountain, slender as an icicle, rising out of the steam jungles and disappearing into the [...] By Michael Swanwick Read by Sarah Tolbert First appeared in Asimov’s Feb 2008 Imagine a cross between Byzantium and a termite mound. Imagine a jeweled mountain, slender as an icicle, rising out of the steam jungles and disappearing into the dazzling pearl-grey skies of Gehenna. Imagine that Gaudí—he of the Segrada Familia and other biomorphic architectural whimsies—had been commissioned by a nightmare race of giant black millipedes to recreate Barcelona at the height of its glory, along with touches of the Forbidden City in the eighteenth century and Tokyo in the twenty-second, all within a single miles-high structure. Hold every bit of that in your mind at once, multiply by a thousand, and you’ve got only the faintest ghost of a notion of the splendor that was Babel. Now imagine being inside Babel when it fell. Rated PG. Contains the destruction of cities, a lack of trust, and sentient suits. Flash, Podcasts Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2009/04/23/ep196-evil-robot-monkey/ http://escapepod.org/2009/04/23/ep196-evil-robot-monkey/#comments Thu, 23 Apr 2009 12:42:21 +0000 JeremyT http://escapepod.org/?p=364 http://escapepod.org/2009/04/23/ep196-evil-robot-monkey/feed/ 17 0:20:10 By Mary Robinette Kowal Read by Stephen Eley First appeared in the Solaris Book of New Science Fiction, vol. 2 edited by George Mann. Special closing monkey music by George Hrab Sliding his hands over the clay, Sly relished the moisture oozing aroun[...] By Mary Robinette Kowal Read by Stephen Eley First appeared in the Solaris Book of New Science Fiction, vol. 2 edited by George Mann. Special closing monkey music by George Hrab Sliding his hands over the clay, Sly relished the moisture oozing around his fingers. The clay matted down the hair on the back of his hands making them look almost human. He turned the potter’s wheel with his prehensile feet as he shaped the vase. Pinching the clay between his fingers he lifted the wall of the vase, spinning it higher. Someone banged on the window of his pen. Sly jumped and then screamed as the vase collapsed under its own weight. He spun and hurled it at the picture window like feces. The clay spattered against the Plexiglas, sliding down the window. Rated PG. Contains one angry chimp with a potty mouth. Sort of. Podcasts Mary Robinette Kowal no no http://escapepod.org/2009/04/18/ep195-26-monkeys-also-the-abyss/ http://escapepod.org/2009/04/18/ep195-26-monkeys-also-the-abyss/#comments Sat, 18 Apr 2009 18:30:24 +0000 SFEley http://escapepod.org/?p=363 http://escapepod.org/2009/04/18/ep195-26-monkeys-also-the-abyss/feed/ 23 0:32:40 By Kij Johnson. Read by Diane Severson (of The Diva’s Divine Days). Discuss on our forums. First appeared in Asimov’s Science Fiction, July 2008. All stories by Kij Johnson. All stories read by Diane Severson. Narration first appeared at[...] By Kij Johnson. Read by Diane Severson (of The Diva’s Divine Days). Discuss on our forums. First appeared in Asimov’s Science Fiction, July 2008. All stories by Kij Johnson. All stories read by Diane Severson. Narration first appeared at and produced by Starship Sofa. Special thanks to Tony Smith and Diane Severson for their kind permission to resyndicate this award nominee. She sets a stepladder next to it. She claps her hands and the 26 monkeys onstage run up the ladder one after the other and jump into the bathtub. The bathtub shakes as each monkey thuds in among the others. The audience can see heads, legs, tails; but eventually every monkey settles and the bathtub is still again. Zeb is always the last monkey up the ladder. As he climbs into the bathtub, he makes a humming boom deep in his chest. It fills the stage. And then there’s a flash of light, two of the chains fall off, and the bathtub swings down to expose its interior. Empty. Rated PG. Contains 26 monkeys. Also, the abyss. Podcasts Kij Johnson no no http://escapepod.org/2009/04/10/ep194-exhalation/ http://escapepod.org/2009/04/10/ep194-exhalation/#comments Fri, 10 Apr 2009 05:00:49 +0000 SFEley http://escapepod.org/?p=362 http://escapepod.org/2009/04/10/ep194-exhalation/feed/ 51 0:51:24 2009 Hugo Nominee! By Ted Chiang. Read by Ray Sizemore (of X-Ray Visions). First appeared in Eclipse 2, ed. Jonathan Strahan. Narration first appeared at and produced by Starship Sofa. Special thanks to Tony Smith and Ray Sizemore for their kind per[...] 2009 Hugo Nominee! By Ted Chiang. Read by Ray Sizemore (of X-Ray Visions). First appeared in Eclipse 2, ed. Jonathan Strahan. Narration first appeared at and produced by Starship Sofa. Special thanks to Tony Smith and Ray Sizemore for their kind permission to resyndicate this award nominee. Audible.com Promotion! Get your free audiobook at: http://audiblepodcast.com/escapepod But in the normal course of life, our need for air is far from our thoughts, and indeed many would say that satisfying that need is the least important part of going to the filling stations. For the filling stations are the primary venue for social conversation, the places from which we draw emotional sustenance as well as physical. We all keep spare sets of full lungs in our homes, but when one is alone, the act of opening one’s chest and replacing one’s lungs can seem little better than a chore. In the company of others, however, it becomes a communal activity, a shared pleasure. Rated PG. Contains entropy, eschatology, and empirical evisceration. Best-Of, Podcasts Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2009/04/02/ep193-article-of-faith/ http://escapepod.org/2009/04/02/ep193-article-of-faith/#comments Fri, 03 Apr 2009 02:30:36 +0000 SFEley http://escapepod.org/?p=351 http://escapepod.org/2009/04/02/ep193-article-of-faith/feed/ 39 0:41:40 By Mike Resnick. Read by Stephen Eley. Discuss on our forums. First appeared in Baen’s Universe, October 2008. All stories by Mike Resnick. All stories read by Stephen Eley. “I’m sure,” I said. “Somehow, lunch seems pre[...] By Mike Resnick. Read by Stephen Eley. Discuss on our forums. First appeared in Baen’s Universe, October 2008. All stories by Mike Resnick. All stories read by Stephen Eley. “I’m sure,” I said. “Somehow, lunch seems pretty trivial after you’ve been thinking about God all morning.” “God, sir?” “The Creator of all things,” I explained. “My creator is Stanley Kalinovsky, sir,” said Jackson. “I was not aware that he created everything in the world, nor that his preferred name was God.” I couldn’t repress a smile. Rated PG. Contains religious themes and some violence. Podcasts Mike Resnick no no http://escapepod.org/2009/03/28/ep192-sumo21/ http://escapepod.org/2009/03/28/ep192-sumo21/#comments Sat, 28 Mar 2009 23:00:14 +0000 SFEley http://escapepod.org/?p=348 http://escapepod.org/2009/03/28/ep192-sumo21/feed/ 23 0:53:00 By Daniel Braum. Read by Stephen Eley. Audible.com Promotion! Get your free audiobook at: http://audible.com/escapepodsff “Oh great Emperor,” the gyoji said, continuing the ritual. “These two honorable warriors can not agree who wi[...] By Daniel Braum. Read by Stephen Eley. Audible.com Promotion! Get your free audiobook at: http://audible.com/escapepodsff “Oh great Emperor,” the gyoji said, continuing the ritual. “These two honorable warriors can not agree who will step aside, and who will join the sacred battle to return you to us. We would gladly send all our sons, but the Council of Infinite Japans says there may be only twenty-one. So now they must fight to decide.” “May the best warrior join the fight,” the crowd answered in unison with the gyoji. The gyoji stepped back. Asashoryu stared into Takanasuro’s expressionless brown eyes. The match would begin upon a tacit agreement between them. He kept Takanasuro’s mid section in his field of vision while focusing on keeping his own face blank. He knew the beginner’s lesson as if it were part of him; faces deceive and betray, but all movement starts at the hips. Rated PG. Contains death, betrayal, hauntings, and a challenging amount of Japanese. Daniel Braum no no http://escapepod.org/2009/03/19/ep191-this-is-how-it-feels/ http://escapepod.org/2009/03/19/ep191-this-is-how-it-feels/#comments Thu, 19 Mar 2009 05:00:57 +0000 SFEley http://escapepod.org/?p=343 http://escapepod.org/2009/03/19/ep191-this-is-how-it-feels/feed/ 28 0:37:37 By Ian Creasey. Read by FNH (of The Cthulhu Podcast). First appeared in Asimov’s, March 2008 Guest Host: Tony Smith (of Starship Sofa) Nathan’s eyes stung as he remembered how Jenny used to do just that: the same jump down the stairs, th[...] By Ian Creasey. Read by FNH (of The Cthulhu Podcast). First appeared in Asimov’s, March 2008 Guest Host: Tony Smith (of Starship Sofa) Nathan’s eyes stung as he remembered how Jenny used to do just that: the same jump down the stairs, the same windmilling of her arms as she landed…. The grief swept over him like a palpable wave, making him stagger backward. “Dad?” Christopher kicked his backpack down the hall to the door. “You all right?” “It’s nothing,” said Nathan. He rubbed the implant-port behind his right ear. It’s nothing. It’s not real. But it felt real. Rated PG. Contains themes of death and child endangerment. Podcasts Ian Creasey no no http://escapepod.org/2009/03/12/ep190-origin-story/ http://escapepod.org/2009/03/12/ep190-origin-story/#comments Thu, 12 Mar 2009 07:30:26 +0000 SFEley http://escapepod.org/?p=342 http://escapepod.org/2009/03/12/ep190-origin-story/feed/ 27 0:33:57 By Tim Pratt Read by: Stephen Eley Discuss on our forums. All stories by Tim Pratt All stories read by Stephen Eley Special closing music: “Skullcrusher Mountain” by Jonathan Coulton. Audible.com Promotion! Get your free audiobook at: ht[...] By Tim Pratt Read by: Stephen Eley Discuss on our forums. All stories by Tim Pratt All stories read by Stephen Eley Special closing music: “Skullcrusher Mountain” by Jonathan Coulton. Audible.com Promotion! Get your free audiobook at: http://audible.com/escapepodsff He didn’t call himself The Aerialist at first. The newspapers came up with that later. He called himself Kid Kangaroo of all things, because of the jumping from rooftop to rooftop, even though I made fun of him, called him “Joey,” made jokes about dingoes. Nobody knows his secret identity but me, and I only found out because I snuck into the treehouse one night to smoke a cigarette and found him changing out of his leotard and tights and domino mask. He was only fifteen. I still remember what he said: “Don’t tell anyone — if my identity is discovered, you and mom and dad could be used against me.” Rated PG. Contains sibling rivalry and comic book deconstruction. Podcasts Mur Lafferty no no http://escapepod.org/2009/03/04/ep189-the-botox-school-of-acting/ http://escapepod.org/2009/03/04/ep189-the-botox-school-of-acting/#comments Wed, 04 Mar 2009 07:00:37 +0000 SFEley http://escapepod.org/?p=341 http://escapepod.org/2009/03/04/ep189-the-botox-school-of-acting/feed/ 24 0:31:25 By Liz Shannon Miller. Read by Dani Cutler (of Truth Seekers). Guest Host: Jeffrey R. DeRego Audible.com Promotion! Get your free audiobook at: http://audible.com/escapepodsff Only the best gain acceptance. Harry cannot be bought. Twice a year, he[...] By Liz Shannon Miller. Read by Dani Cutler (of Truth Seekers). Guest Host: Jeffrey R. DeRego Audible.com Promotion! Get your free audiobook at: http://audible.com/escapepodsff Only the best gain acceptance. Harry cannot be bought. Twice a year, he attends the fashion shows, looking for an unknown to transform, but most of the time they come to him — the beautiful, the elegant, the desperate. They plead with him, their eyes containing all the emotion their faces cannot show. The beauties who want to be brilliant, who want to move beyond the limitations of their appearance. Who want to act. “Boxtresses”, people call his students, and Harry doesn’t bother to correct the gender assumption, because his class for actors is still ostensibly secret. No one wants to believe that action heroes need to avoid aging. It’s their love interests who need to stay fresh. Rated PG. Contains profanity and shallow motivations. Podcasts Liz Shannon Miller no no http://escapepod.org/2009/01/02/ep185-union-dues-all-about-the-sponsors/ http://escapepod.org/2009/01/02/ep185-union-dues-all-about-the-sponsors/#comments Fri, 02 Jan 2009 08:00:00 +0000 SFEley http://escapepod.org/?p=336 http://escapepod.org/2009/01/02/ep185-union-dues-all-about-the-sponsors/feed/ 21 0:45:54 By Jeffrey R. DeRego. Read by Stephen Eley. Discuss on our forums. All stories by Jeffrey R. DeRego All stories read by Stephen Eley Sponsored by CONTAGIOUS, by Scott Sigler. I suck in my chest and tighten the buckles before getting lightheaded. I d[...] By Jeffrey R. DeRego. Read by Stephen Eley. Discuss on our forums. All stories by Jeffrey R. DeRego All stories read by Stephen Eley Sponsored by CONTAGIOUS, by Scott Sigler. I suck in my chest and tighten the buckles before getting lightheaded. I don’t have to wear the costume anymore, but it seems disrespectful to leave it in the closet for this one last mission. I get the boots on and struggle with the leather straps and silver buckles until my fingers feel like they’re ready to fall off. I surrender and creak back up to standing position. “Ok screw the boot buckles, Jim,” I whisper. “This is it.” I glance at the open briefcase laid across the corner of my desk but I’ve got everything I need. I pick up the silver frame with the little black and white photo of me, Frida, Alex, Paul, and Steve in our original Liberty League getup. Frida Freedom called me four hours ago. Her voice broke when she said the words, “Alex is dead.” I drop the frame into the case atop a weathered manila folder then close the whole thing up before hobbling out towards the waiting jet. Rated PG. Contains some profanity, some violence, and strong rhetoric. Podcasts Jeffrey R. DeRego no no http://escapepod.org/2008/12/06/escape-pod-flash-fiction-contest-honorable-mention-silence/ http://escapepod.org/2008/12/06/escape-pod-flash-fiction-contest-honorable-mention-silence/#comments Sat, 06 Dec 2008 05:00:28 +0000 Rachel http://escapepod.org/?p=329 http://escapepod.org/2008/12/06/escape-pod-flash-fiction-contest-honorable-mention-silence/feed/ 9 0:02:42 by Rachel Swirsky. Read by Ann Leckie.   Whatever the midwife told you, it’s not true. I cannot walk through walls. I cannot conjure a chicken and make it dance or start a fire with my fingers. I cannot shape familiars from fog or examine [...] by Rachel Swirsky. Read by Ann Leckie.   Whatever the midwife told you, it’s not true. I cannot walk through walls. I cannot conjure a chicken and make it dance or start a fire with my fingers. I cannot shape familiars from fog or examine entrails to see if a man will die. I cannot resurrect your son. Rated PG. Flash, Podcasts, Uncategorized Rachel Swirsky no no http://escapepod.org/2008/12/05/escape-pod-flash-fiction-contest-honorable-mention-hello-i-love-you/ http://escapepod.org/2008/12/05/escape-pod-flash-fiction-contest-honorable-mention-hello-i-love-you/#comments Fri, 05 Dec 2008 05:00:33 +0000 Rachel http://escapepod.org/?p=330 http://escapepod.org/2008/12/05/escape-pod-flash-fiction-contest-honorable-mention-hello-i-love-you/feed/ 5 0:03:11 By Katherine Sparrow. Read by Rachel Swirsky. All stories by Katherine Sparrow All stories read by Rachel Swirsky “Junk DNA? I’ll junk your DNA!” Sofia glared at Zorg. “Apologies. It is only, don’t you find it interest[...] By Katherine Sparrow. Read by Rachel Swirsky. All stories by Katherine Sparrow All stories read by Rachel Swirsky “Junk DNA? I’ll junk your DNA!” Sofia glared at Zorg. “Apologies. It is only, don’t you find it interesting? Most of it is unused–” “Junk? You supercilious aliens come to Earth to rein snottiness on us lowly humans? How sublime. I suppose your DNA is full of Porsches?” Rated PG. Flash, Podcasts Katherine Sparrow no no