apex magazine

a poster with a robot holding a tennis racquet.

Have Mercy, My Love, While We Wait for the Thaw

The residents here are used to our visits now. Seeing us arrive doesn’t draw the stares it once did. I’d been surprised we were recognized at all, but a space colony is never so big as it first seems. Even the people who never saw the vids of Rhodan’s squadron shackled and loaded into trucks, the awful stills of me standing wooden-faced behind my mother at her inauguration, know who we are.
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a poster with a robot holding a tennis racket.

Optics

Who am I supposed to be mad at in that situation? Light? The way the paper towel dispenser uses it? The team that designed it? Do I blame Boston Dynamics for creating the algorithm for AI dogs to navigate an obstacle course or the paramilitary group using it to ferret out humans fleeing violence in their homes?
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a poster with a robot holding a tennis racket.

Schlafstunde

A group of robotniks sat in the lot. A fire burned in an open drum between them. They sat with their backs to stacks of old bricks. They drank vodka and gasoline. Their rusted metal parts creaked. Their human eyes looked at her as she came.
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