Blog Archives

Such Stuff As Stars Are Made Of

medical-scifi-story

“Stool transplants?” I asked my agent. “Please say you’re joking.”
Angela shook her head. “I swear I’m not making this up. When researchers transferred the stools of outgoing mice into anxious mice, the recipients became more outgoing. And when they gave people fecal transplants for digestive disorders, they found the same thing—recipients take on characteristics of their donors. Point being: the microbes in our guts exert significant influence over our personalities.
"It seems that you are largely what’s in your gut. And if you really want to be a star, you need to have star stuff inside you.”

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Posted in Scifi News

The Street

muppet-scifi

The job market was so dried up, you could only hope and pray for some shitty, part-time shiftwork underneath some dilapidated footbridge. The days of getting a comfy, monster-under-the-bed type job were long gone. Holding out for your own closet to scare out of? Hah! What are you smoking?

The market bubble had gone bust, and every night, the streets in my neighbourhood were getting worse; monsters were slinking in every shadowy alleyway, cracked out and strung out and begging for your last dime.

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Posted in Featured Fiction

Transformed In A Flash

transformative-flash-scifi

"I've always said you were an original thinker, Alika, but the incarceration of a criminal AI in a coffee vending machine is a most curious idea."

Alika frowned.  "He's not a criminal AI.  It is true that some of his ideas, were he to carry them out unbidden, would be against the law.  It is his insensitivity that I have an issue with, Chiku.  But …  he may still be useful to us."

"So is this a slap on his proverbial wrist?  Or simply a reminder of our biological superiority?"

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Posted in Featured Fiction

Normandy Re-Remembered

free-war-scifi-story

As Bert Jackson stormed the beach he couldn’t get the thought of his mother’s kitchen windows out of his head. The windows were so real that it was as if they were directly in front of him. They had blue wooden trim and the latch on the inside that had been turned to the left before mom had gone to bed. Behind the windows the tips of the spider and parsley plants spread above the kitchen sink. The stone wall around the windows was well-worn, in some places covered with small white circles, marking where he and his brother, Maurice, had pelted it with their baseball. The windows glimmered in the sunlight; his mother was behind the glare, calling them into lunch. A lunch of ham and cheese sandwiches and chicken broth. Maybe an apple or, if they were lucky, chocolate pudding.

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Posted in Featured Fiction

Your Experimental Holiday Gift

free existential scifi

Happy holidays to you from Space Squid! Your gifts are two diametrically different stories: Jorge Jaramillo Villarruel's "The Madonna of the Dunes" and Joel Haskard's "Subterranean Superhero Blues"! Free scifi fun and humor... enjoy!

The Madonna of the Dunes

As he woke he felt the wet skin next to him. In the 3.00 am light of the stormy sky and of the landing strip, her body was invisible. The shadows and soft light transformed her in a landscape of strange and dark geometries perceived only by touch and smell and by the corner of the eye. Hearing her sleeping breath he went out of the room, putting on a black leather jacket. Then he stepped outside the apartment they’d been sharing for the past months.

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Posted in Featured Fiction