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Two Unromantic Scifi Stories


Pulling her Ralph Lauren Black Label leather coat closed against the freezing air, Claire knocks on the first level door of a sprawling, fully above-ground Upper West Side townhouse. The home features 1,000 square feet of entertaining space with a sizeable open kitchen and 30 foot living room. Claire coughs.

The real estate agent, Will, answers the door. He wears a Gray Calvin Klein two-button notch lapel suit. “Oh my god, you look more beautiful every time I see you,” he says to Claire. “How is that possible?”

“You look good, too,” she offers quietly to his back.

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Two Romantic Scifi Stories


Romantic scifi?

What... oh, right, yes, the season of love. What could be more romantic than two Squid stories, one about a pudgy videogaming cheater and another about reptilian deformities? Huh? Answer me that!

Extra bonus: Editor Matt's lauded recipe for a gourmet muffaletta.

Specifically, a muffaletta assembled from the ingredients available in the hospitality suite at Austin's own Armadillocon literary science fiction convention...!

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My Pet Carrot Speaks Norwegian


     Like any good Norwegian, Olaf had a strong Protestant work ethic. Unfortunately, three-quarters of the time said work ethic, as well as Olaf, were thoroughly pickled. No doubt an ancient Viking was looking out for him. Either that or his Jack Daniels. Beats mead.

     And today was no different. Monday was shoes, Wednesday was a load of car parts, and today – a full load of Norway’s finest carrots.

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Enjoy Our Holiday Sci-fi-tri-fecta!


Happy holidays! We're happy to bring you three speculative-fiction presents this winter: two flash pieces bursting with goodness, plus a recipe. (A recipe?!?)


Before you take the test, there are a few things you need to know. There are no right or wrong answers, per se.

Before the test, spend time in the social centers observing others’ behavior. Reread the common laws at the Justice Hall. Keep to your assigned schedule and fill all empty time with Value-Rated activities.

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The floor in this room is made of human hair, long tresses tightly braided and packed together. The walls are made of human bones, femurs, tibia and ribs, locked and imbricated. Inset skulls hold candles. The flames burn green.

I sit and I watch and, in time, the gloom is suffused with sparkling atomies, motes of light which swirl and dance as they slowly gather into a shimmering globe. A soul!

I reach out with the fingers of my mind. I squeeze and mould the globe to a little ball. As I do so, it darkens and reddens. I squeeze and compress until it is like a tiny, vivid ruby.

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