I want to discuss how SF does music, and music does SF. Music can be a critical component of the story. In Vance’s classic “The Moon Moth,” aliens confer social status according to an individual’s virtuosity on multiple musical instruments, without which they won’t give you the time of day. (For a more recent example [...]
An imperial parade of angels...
A tempting teases Barbie. She dreams...
A full trashcan sat in the dark just outside my alternate-dimension self's office. Housekeeping came by every morning, so obviously this lucky “me” was still employed here, working during the daylight hours. I was the unlucky me who was stuck prowling dark hallways at 2 am on a Tuesday...
Louis walks the barren city street, a near-freezing wind blowing. He looks up at the sky, so late afternoon blue he has to squint, and even then the beauty hurts. He glances sideways and checks the number above the door of an abandoned store. Six-six-nine. Four more blocks to go.
I climb toward the asymptote at the top of the universe, leaving dead centuries in my wake, gaining mass. Clovis says this is like growing in spirit as one approaches God. He says I will experience God soon, but right now I feel alone and terrified...
It was Nic’s idea for the three of them to go down to the dims after class. They were in the corridor of the upper level, sharing the last of a stand-up lunch before their engineering class, and the lights had just pulsed for noon...
Day 1: I tell her about my ship, about what it feels like to cut through spacetime with a bridge drive instead of taking a public transfer station. It's a good play, works great on pretty women in expensive, fashionable clothes that lead expensive, fashionable lives they wish they could escape for the night. She averts her eyes. “Does your ship have TruAI?” she asks.