Right now, at the end of his shift, the queue that floats in his segmented white tunnel is stalled by that stubborn multimedia magician. Again.
Read MoreHoudini’s Heart
You voted every week on who should win American Idol, frantically trying to insure that your favorite candidate would go on to the next round—yet you couldn’t be bothered to go to the polling booth every few years to cast a similar vote for who should represent you in the House and the Senate.
Read MoreA Revolution of OneWhen everybody on the bridge of the interstellar mercenary cruiser Zinnia fell into a magic sleep, I was busy using my scrubber attachments to attack the usual stains under the captain’s chair. There was a sudden series of thuds, and I noticed that everyone had either slumped over in their chairs or fallen to the floor.
Read MoreThe Best Little Cleaning Robot in All of FaerieOur destination is mundane and so tranquil. Maybe that’s why we’ve stopped here; it’s the product of an uninspired journey. The air is still and the sun is waiting, and at a spot midway between a limb and the earth, a half–fallen leaf comes to a decision.
Read MoreInhaleI stare out over my pregnant belly, feeling awkward. Feeling irritable. “Why wouldn’t I want to know?”
Read MoreForeknowledgeCatering was potluck. Potluck, for God’s sake. Catriona forced a smile as the neighbours streamed into her living room, all plump and tanned and healthy, not a scar among them. They carried platters and casseroles and cheap plastic plates, the flimsy circles all gaudy crimson or green—probably discounted post–Christmas stock from Costco, she thought, cringing.
Read MoreHeirloom PiecesThe first time I saw you play:
Bach’s Six Suites for Unaccompanied Cello; your chin tucked down; your eyes soft but intense; the fingertips of your left hand deftly pressing into the fingerboard; the bow in your right moving across the strings like a lover’s sensate promise.
Read MoreRequiem, for Solo CelloArgyle Paendragon sat at the bar of a speakeasy that was unlike any other he knew of in Chicago. The Blind Magician was situated just down an alleyway alongside the Biograph Theater behind a door hidden by a complex camouflaging charm and guarded by a brute no one wanted to trifle with.
Read MoreJohn Dillinger and the Blind MagicianDimia returns to consciousness suddenly and without pain—without physical sensation of any kind, in fact—and finds herself in a perfect void. The technicians at Bridge Proteins told her to expect quite a hangover if she ever came back to life, but they never mentioned anything about sensory impairment.
Read MoreAnarchic Hand