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Memorial – M. Raoulee

We gather on the road heading out of town as dawn stains the sky. None of us speak. We walk. I think. It’s a little like how we used to march into the hills when the sounds of shelling got close.

I wonder if Kaezel remembers the same as I do. I stretch my tendrils out to them and they brush me back. They don’t hold on, of course they don’t. Not now when I taste-sound of everything we left in the ashes at the end of the war.  

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Arno’s Claw – Klaus Wenzel

An ember dusk shimmered through the penthouse windows. Arno-6 scanned his employer’s living room for any signs of disorder. According to his internal time-mapping data, Eric Pernish, the master of the residence, would return home within the hour. It being a Wednesday, Arno-6 knew that Mr. Pernish and his newest female consort, Olivia Lambo, would be concluding their post-work coital exchange about this time, after which, the company car would deliver Pernish home to the elegant high-rise building in downtown Los Angeles. Likely,  he would arrive home more famished than usual, given his day’s many exertions, both professional and intimate. For Eric Pernish, like his father before him, oversaw Liquid Inc., the largest international name in adult VR entertainment.

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Rewilder – Laduke Ely Loomis

The Rewilder wakes and finds himself alone, residence cube dark. He dresses in a white jumpsuit as the walls brighten. The plasma-touch system displays the date, time, and weather conditions (haze and dust will be thick today, and air acidity is up 200 PPM). With a tap he turns the panel before him reflective, with another he summons the news. He shaves morning stubble hearing about tensions between East Dome and West Dome. He brushes his teeth watching trailers for new Sense-Sim™ games and interactive movies. He thinks about sending Molly a message, but looks at the chat box too long and regrets having sent her three the night before. She has yet to respond.

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From Issue #4!

Johnson, Johnson–is it light? Feels like I haven’t seen daylight in forever.”

“Yes, sir. Morning is coming. It’s over.”

“The visitor?”

“Reports indicate the craft is in low orbit, on an exit trajectory. Broadcasting a final message before departing our planet.”

“But why? Why leave after coming so far?”

“Burn-out, sir. The visitor partied too hard. In the end the people of Earth–our people–were far more radical and righteous dudes.”

“More radical dudes. Hmm. I wonder–at what cost? The coastline cities are gone–the Midwest an irradiated husk. We haven’t heard from London in over twelve hours. Hard-partying, yes. But at what cost? Johnson? Johnson, can you hear me? Johnson….”

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The Story We Didn’t Accept

submitted with seventeen additional chapters

You may have heard rumors that Joss Whedon has submitted to Planet Scumm continuously since Scummy first opened the data-banks for contributions from earthlings.  Apparently, he believes only Scummy can understand the deepest and most intimate stories that lurk in his heart. Joss Whedon is now mailing full, hand-written manuscripts to the beleaguered team of editor-thralls under Scummy’s command. We don’t know how he got our addresses, but he sends individual copies to each of us and our families. He has ignored numerous requests to cut it out, back off, and has violated restraining orders.

Each new manuscript is another fresh hell with detailed drawings and deranged marginalia appearing and disappearing.  Scummy has therefore seen fit to end this torture in the most expedient way possible and ordered the editorial staff to just go ahead and publish Joss Wheedon’s mad ramblings in the hope that this will sate, rather than inflame, his desire for Scummy’s attention. 

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Find here an excerpt transmitted by Scummy to tantalize the people of earth in anticipation of the upcoming release of Planet Scumm! Some words from author Frank Smith:

One month ago they’d set off from the domes of Titan Colony to meet with the Science Council on Mars—the Madeira’s longest run yet. They’d made it as far as Europa and her quiet seas when they hit trouble. The ship’s computer had detected hull damage, requiring Zadie to take a spacewalk to investigate the problem.


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Shaukya was both the head priest and the de-facto leader of Dhruvgiri, a remote village atop the mountains. One morning he called a meeting of the village elders, saying the goddess had spoken to his wife, Wagmani, once again, and she had an important announcement to make.

“The goddess told me of a way to save our women,” Wagmani proclaimed.

Puzzled, the villagers looked at one another.

“But what’s wrong with them?” one asked.