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"Science Fiction" means—to us—everything found in the science fiction section of a bookstore, or at a science fiction convention, or amongst the winners of the Hugo awards given by the World Science Fiction Society. This includes the genres of science fiction (or sci-fi), fantasy, slipstream, alternative history, and even stories with lighter speculative elements. We hope you enjoy the broad range that SF has to offer.
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Hither & Yon

Humor



by Liz Argall
Dear Mr Moon Man or Ms Moon Lady, I would like very much for gravity to continue to suck or pull or whatever it does, but if you could do so with just a bit more nuance I would be very grateful. My brother, Henry, keeps jumping off the roof in a Wonder Woman costume and I would appreciate it very much if his limbs wouldn't break so much. Henry is very determined to fly through the air with a cape and although I tell him Wonder Woman flies an invisible plane and has no cape he just tells me I am old school and should get with the program and Wonder Woman could kick Superman's ass any day. Last time Henry jumped off the roof he blamed his crash landing on the cast still on his right arm. He said it pushed him off balance. Henry then left the last good mattress out in the rain and now we have to sleep on the floor.
Published on Nov 23, 2010
by Dani Atkinson
# You liked showing me the ancient tech in your attic. # It always made you happy.
Published on Jan 30, 2014
by Matthew W Baugh
The small grey man walked into Ben Murphy's office and stared at him with enormous black eyes. Ben had seen a lot during his fifteen years as Sheriff of Chaves County, but nothing like this naked, spindly-limbed, huge-headed critter. For that matter, he couldn't rightly say whether the thing was a man or not, despite the lack of pants. Still, Ben knew the value of remaining calm and helpful, whatever the situation. "Can I help you?" he asked.
Published on Dec 5, 2011
by VG Campen
CONVERT NOW--THE END IS NEAR. The sign, held by a tiny pink paw, bobs along a path that cuts through the ferns. "They're everywhere nowadays," I say. "Used to be they'd run away, or at least hide in the shadows."
Published on Sep 20, 2012
by Michael Canfield
Albe ignored Tic, who exclaimed "huh!" after stabbing another Wikipedia article in his usual overly-enthusiastic way. Albe then watched Tic push the article off the sharp end of his poker into the bag. Tic wiped his hand on his leg, as he did every time he cleared his poker of trash. Albe had gotten himself knee-deep in Myspace pages, which had started to seep through his garments and cling to his skin, so he didn't care what Tic chose to vociferate about.
Published on Oct 24, 2011
by Gregg Chamberlain
Published on Mar 14, 2013
by Gary Cuba
The front doorbell jingled. Ivan Petrovich Pavlov reflexively pushed his aged body up from his chair, his bones creaking in protest, and shambled to the foyer to answer it. Was it the postman, delivering good news? Probably not, he thought. He hadn't received any good news for years now. Pavlov opened the door and, after a moment of mental confusion, recognized Sergei Mikhailovich Tyshenko, his old friend and patron, now the head of the Soviet Bureau of Physiology and Psychology. "Welcome, comrade! It's been a long time. Years!"
Published on Sep 16, 2013
by Nicky Drayden
Being a little curious doesn't make you a deviant. On Vero-Avalon Station, with its hundred and fifteen sapient species, it'd be weirder not to wonder about the alien biology of your cohabitants. You see them in the mess hall, slurping up trans-dimensional slugs, gnawing on Yuvvian bark, sipping pink clouds from see-through thermoses, and dining on the finest spiced lava rock this galaxy has to offer. You don't blink an eye when a proboscis appears from a rift in space-time and oozes purple acid onto freshly killed Frall. And when an Undulite consumes its still living mate right in front of you, you don't judge. You're something of an amateur anthropologist, after all, and a curious one at that. Curious enough to enter through that doorway, the one with the symbol on the front that you can't quite decipher. Not the symbol of the humanoid man, nor the humanoid woman. Not the generic fish symbol for the aquatics. Not the avians, nor the giant blue placard for the restroom designed especially for the spatially challenged.
Published on Jan 3, 2011
by Anne Patterson Friedman
Emjid was thrilled to be using human eyes. As he pushed his cart down the aisle, he turned his head to the left--a joy with a twistable neck--and savored the red of tomato-paste cans. What fun! "Excuse me, sir."
Published on Dec 16, 2010
by Karen Heuler
Dear Space Mama, I joined an exploratory company about ten years ago, and have been traveling ever since. Lately, I met a being on Celsia 9 who exists midway between a corporeal and non-corporeal state. That is, he/she/it (undetermined) feels more like liquid than solid and is somewhat permeable. We don't really speak directly, instead doing a kind of mime of what we want. It's a slow and interesting process. Since this is a new contact, there is no handbook on what any of this means, but I have been feeling more and more like staying on this planet rather than continuing to explore. Oddly enough, all my crewmates feel the same way and we have wondered if there might be more to this attraction than we're aware of. What do you think?
Published on Oct 1, 2013
by Matthew Johnson
Four stars Dinner for two $120-160 with wine, tax and tip
Published on Sep 27, 2010
by Andrew Kaye
Jonathan ate elves because they were high in protein and vitamin B, and he fed them to his wife for the same reason. She was three months pregnant and couldn't stomach most foods; only elves satisfied her without bringing on a ripple of nausea in her belly. He prepared them for her like a tuna fish sandwich, chopping the cooked meat into small, moist chunks and mixing it with mayonnaise and a blob of sweet relish, then smearing the resulting paste between slices of toasted Wonder Bread.
Published on Mar 10, 2011
by Tim McDaniel
“You know, Billy,” said George Washington, “When I was a young boy, my mother used to say something to me, by way of encouraging me in my childhood endeavors.”
Published on Sep 30, 2010
by Jaime Lee Moyer
My Dearest Miranda, I must apologize for being so remiss in not answering your last letter promptly. I do hope you'll forgive me once I explain.
Published on Oct 18, 2011
by Tim Pratt
For the musically-inclined tourist, ancient Rome is a must.
Published on Sep 6, 2010
by Joshua Ramey-Renk
On the day the world began, there were 100 monkeys in the trees. The next day there were 500, then 1,000.
Published on Aug 22, 2011
by R.P. Reed
Silence in the medicenter. There's no electronic hum in spacecraft in this century, nor vibrations from the anti-matter engines. A dim healing green light pulses from the walls, floor, and ceiling. Perfect for maintaining the wellbeing of the four patients. There's a glint of moving metal in my peripheral vision as the medidroid monitors the condition of the final patient. Four surgery capsules lie before me in a neat row. "Everything is always in neat rows," I remembered Asami saying with a laugh. Through the liquid nitrogen mists I can see the occupants: young faces, dressed in red and blue uniforms. I can't see the badges on their chests, but I know the motto reads, "Not for oneself."
Published on Jun 6, 2014
by Liz Schriftsteller
Today I learned that anything is edible with enough salt. It started this morning when my little brother Todd bit through the cardboard packaging to get at the sugarcoated marshmallow cereal bits inside. "Spit that out," I told him. "You can't eat cardboard."
Published on Jan 13, 2014
by Alex Shvartsman
Bob shuffled into his editor's office with all the confidence of a cat venturing into a kennel. "Peter," he nodded.
Published on Sep 23, 2013
by Alex Shvartsman
Lieutenant-Admiral Whiskers stared at the ominous planet on his view screen. It was still very far away, a tiny fishbowl with an even smaller moon hanging at its side like a saucer of milk. The view grew steadily clearer as the invasion fleet approached its target. The sound of the war council entering the room broke his reverie. Whiskers turned and stood at attention as a pride of elderly felines shuffled in. They wheezed as they struggled to climb into the seats placed around a long oval table. Whiskers thought it ironic that not a single one of them was in shape to hunt their own dinner, and yet this bunch of fat cats led the expeditionary force that had conquered over a hundred worlds.
Published on Apr 15, 2014
by Vaughan Stanger
"So, Reeves! I imagine you're surprised to see me." "I must confess that your resurrection has come as something of a shock, sir. I had thought you quite dead and buried!"
Published on Oct 23, 2014
by Steve Rasnic Tem
The two officers at the front door looked doubtful. Maybe it was the late hour. Maybe it was the less-than-pleasant neighborhood. Maybe it was the short shorts Clarence had fashioned out of aluminum foil to shield his naughty bits from alien rays. He didn't mind their skepticism--he'd been laughed at before. Which he might have tolerated better, frankly, if it hadn't been his therapist snickering through their last session.
Published on Oct 15, 2013
 
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