New Year’s celebrations crashed through the streets of Whitcry in a din of masks and swirling petticoats. Pottery smashed against cobbles, women’s shouts echoed from garrets, men groaned and fought and pissed.
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The 2029 Northern California Human Resources Conference and Exposition would have long ago gone bankrupt if it had relied solely on the registration fees of the business-suited organization men and women who filled the convention floor.
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Ulu lay on her chubby belly playing with her new chemistry set. The living room was her favorite place in the house with its cool wooden floor and many ebony lions, masks and warriors her father liked to collect.
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Because of the particular nature of my upbringing, I probably have more college credits in Biblical Study than you have in your major, and my major was not Biblical Study. That’s simply the way I grew up, the environment I grew up in, and the choices I made when I was younger.
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Rachel Swirsky is a Nebula award-winning author of short stories, novelettes, and novellas spanning speculative fiction to literary fiction. She attended the Iowa Writers Workshop at The University of Iowa, and during that time she also taught fiction writing classes.
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In this issue, things fall apart: Relationships, societies, religious systems. Dreams and hopes, bodies and minds all pay the price for the choices we make to try to get ahead.
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