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Issue 124Short Fiction

How to be Good

Sometimes at night, when Mark isn’t drunk enough to forget the day’s work, he has the urge to pray. He hasn’t believed in there being anything out there to pray to in years, but he dimly remembers his childhood awe of God and the comfort of being able to confess your sins to a faceless presence. The things he’s done, the things he’s watched, they weigh on him. He knows they don’t weigh on Renward. Renward is innocent.

Issue 124Short Fiction

Without Wishes to Bind You

“Velvet and buttons, yes,” Pudgy says, his voice gone soft. He draws his left hand against his empty belly, fingers of his right hand scrabbling over the itchy skin on the back of his left. Michael blinks, then looks up to the trees that arc over them, bare-branched and thin. It is summer, yet nothing grows.

Issue 124Short Fiction

Eilam Is Forever

He is at a console, his hands running over the keypad. His fingers are faster than anyone else’s. His mind cannot reach the capacity of my processing power, but the way he thinks, computing thoughtlessly, is akin to my own. The other reason he is my second choice is because he has a 57% chance of being murdered within his first year as captain, but I can work to make him safe.