Low Disk Space


“In the near future

Petrogenic tubes will allow us

To map each other’s hearts

And not in the sense of

Pulse, pressure, or saturation;

We will be able to translate “I forgot”

Into everything that was unsaid

And tease the edges of communion

Wrapping into ourselves.”

“You should have just returned my calls.

It’s a basic signalling game –

But this may be my favourite

Of all your fragile lies.”

CONDITIONAL HOLIDAYS ARE ALWAYS LESS THAN WHAT THEY SEEM (4/4)


Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

It felt like an age had passed while I was in the restroom. Yet it hadn’t been long enough. The older I get the less these conditional holidays seem like holidays at all, and more like work in disguise.

Lalantree?”

Reluctantly, I turned towards the voice and the mountains. Either it was my imagination or the twilight on that side of the plaza was deepening; shadows darkening the flowers among the scrub, and far above them, the pines and the crags. Someone had seen fit to leave a stone table on the grass not far from me, and its weathered scrollwork, and cracked surface, managed to convey forlornness amid the rest of this zytocoke1-fueled fantasy.

Mavind was sitting there, waiting for me with her cream self perched upon the faded grey, feet off the ground and legs swaying slightly. The table might as well have been placed for her. A creeper was growing up one leg. Continue reading “CONDITIONAL HOLIDAYS ARE ALWAYS LESS THAN WHAT THEY SEEM (4/4)”

CONDITIONAL HOLIDAYS ARE ALWAYS LESS THAN WHAT THEY SEEM (3/4)


Part 1

Part 2

I forged a path toward the washroom through the thinner bits of the crowd, conscious that my newfound powers in clearing away knots of people were 100% due to the Junoesque figure following me. And this, I realized, was one of the most exciting things that had happened on any of our CLPFC days; the expressions around us were awash with curiosity, shock, and delight. Everyone here would know that Ibrander’s date had jumped ship to Lalantree before lunch was served.

Trying to scan as many faces as possible without making eye contact (now this is a true art) I almost bumped into Loddi’s mum. This in spite of her neon floral mumu. “Oh, hello Lalantree. Loddi isn’t with you?”

No…” Mavind had come up close behind me, and Loddi’s mum did a double take. Continue reading “CONDITIONAL HOLIDAYS ARE ALWAYS LESS THAN WHAT THEY SEEM (3/4)”

Conditional Holidays are Always Less Than What They Seem (2/4)


Part 1

Nonchalant and all that, I waited until the last moment to look up at the welcome interlopers.

Ibrander,” said a poised, throaty, laughing voice, “won’t you introduce me?”

They stopped in front of the bench, my third cousin Ibrander1 (who detests Loddi, making me instantly suspicious of his coming over) and a tall, glossy person who was all rich brown hair and expressive mouth and hand gestures. One hand was on Ibrander’s arm but she still managed to be gesturing with it. Her clothes were nothing less than dashing – a wide hat and a one-piece dress suit in cream, its tailored A-line skirt skewing physics by ending in a sway. This was one case where I didn’t have to worry about the polite game that people played of trying to guess-without-guessing whether someone was visiting in-holo only. She was most definitely in person. Continue reading “Conditional Holidays are Always Less Than What They Seem (2/4)”

Conditional Holidays are Always Less than What They Seem (1/4)


Loddi Frisket is a black hole of neuroses. His very existence centres on an unstable singularity, which sucks in anxieties, crises, and the most outlandishly negative possibilities. From prior experience I can attest that his event horizon fluctuates around a diameter of approximately 15 metres. Sometimes the emotional debris which gathers on his accretion disk is an accurate enough warning that I can reverse course, and get away before his attention fixes on me. Sometimes it is not enough.

To give you a sense of just what I am dealing with, Loddi once asked me if I would rather lose my heart (and dignity) to a psychopathic baker, or flee the civilized world, giving up everything from clean pillow shams to NutriPills, only to waste away in boondocks replete with SABs1 and smugglers.

In my humble opinion, the baker of Loddi’s bipolar love was not psychopathic (I still buy rolls there), but merely possessed of poor judgement, seeing as she countenanced his Gothic style of flirting in the first place. Furthermore, it is well known that the Carwallian smugglers (the only smugglers within 50 lightyears to whom Loddi could have possibly been referring) live very well in their off-planet colonies, though the latter are admittedly remote places. Politics may be laissez-faire over in the Esten Economic Zone but they still don’t want blatant crime polluting the fine views and real estate values of the elite.

Continue reading “Conditional Holidays are Always Less than What They Seem (1/4)”

Family Gatherings


Sci-fi City Downtown by JadrienC

Sometimes you have to ‘enjoy’ company that you don’t, really. Lalantree knows this as well as anybody.

To give you a sense of just what I am dealing with, Loddi once asked me if I would rather lose my heart (and dignity) to a psychopathic baker, or flee the civilized world, giving up everything from clean pillow shams to NutriPills, only to waste away in boondocks replete with SABs1 and smugglers.

In my humble opinion, the baker of Loddi’s bipolar love was not psychopathic (I still buy rolls there), but merely possessed of poor judgement, seeing as she countenanced his Gothic style of flirting in the first place. Furthermore, it is well known that the Carwallian smugglers (the only smugglers within 50 lightyears to whom Loddi could have possibly been referring) live very well in their off-planet colonies, though the latter are admittedly remote places. Politics may be laissez-faire over in the Esten Economic Zone but they still don’t want blatant crime polluting the fine views and real estate values of the elite.

1Substance Abusers: a blanket term.

Read On.

~

Image from JadrienC.

In the Land of NoComputer


There was a girl who sat down to lunch one day, only to find that she no longer had a computer. The world seemed quite the same to everyone else and yet this girl was jarred as if she had sidestepped through parallel dimensions. She ate in silence facing a wall, feeling the lack of sound and colour and movement to go with her meal, at a loss as to do anything but chew.

For days her desk contained a void in its principal corner, and with envy she watched her peers breeze by with screens and keyboards at the ready. They were now in a very different place than her. She puzzled over esoteric symbols and mathematical queries, her way barred by a wall of question marks, knowing that in the background other were flicking their fingers and mounting the wall.

She remembered at last that her phone was smart – but it proved to be a questionable substitute, frustrating in the extreme. And she knew that all the while certain people were growing vexed at her slow response to electronic signals.

Continue reading “In the Land of NoComputer”

Omanon and Lir – 2 of 2


Continued from Omanon and Lir – 1 of 2

~

So Lir descended, his long form slipping into the water. Omanon watched him and he glowed. When he dove she thought on dolphins and flying fish, and then he smiled and walked from the water onto the land, just as she wished. The droplets streamed from him and he laid down in the sunlight, growing dry and warm and crusted in sand. She thought on reptiles basking, and seals covering the beaches. Then he walked over silt and rocks, and over solid earth, letting her see hills and mountains before he returned to the sea.

Creatures and plants that she had seen when he walked the land sprang up in his footsteps, and when he slid into the water again there were fishes and corals and whales. They nosed the depths and found the currents while Omanon watched them and watched Lir, who floated on his back unseen and unfelt by the growing planet.

Whether the planet grew more out of her imagination – her spectral memories – or out of the computer, she did not know.

The light came and went. Lir drifted in the ocean of Omanon’s thoughts, his body a patchwork in the ripples made by water and light. And though he soon found land and stretched out, content in sun or in water as she had envisaged, still he asked.

“What next, Omanon?” Continue reading “Omanon and Lir – 2 of 2”

Omanon and Lir – 1 of 2


First I would like to thank the editors of the Blue Hour Anthology for publishing one of my poems – For Aurélie.

 ~

Lir drifted in the ocean of Omanon’s thoughts, his body a patchwork in the ripples made by water and light. And though he soon found land and stretched out, content in sun or in water as she had envisaged, still he asked.

“What next, Omanon?”

*

The computer hummed around her in the black, and whenever the vast processing banks sighed that was the only measure of time. She was suspended, her seat only another figment of the black, and she imagined that the vague sense of motion, of her surroundings sailing or hurtling on, was what kept her heart beating.

She did not know how long she had been there, but with her eyes open and unseeing it could not matter. She stretched one limb; in the absence of feeling, of any external stimuli, only within herself could she assume that there was motion.

She desired sight and motion. Continue reading “Omanon and Lir – 1 of 2”