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Not just rockets & robots...
What is Science Fiction?
"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.

Recent Stories

by Rich Larson
Novapolis was like no city Gen had ever seen in her life. The architecture flowed around her in graceful arcs and waves, all of it a gleaming white that seemed to gently press against her eyeballs. Battery pillars rose in small copses where denizens recharged their 'cycles. Glass-topped channels displayed sparkling clean water as it coursed through the blue veins of the city's filtration system. There were no engine sounds; everything powered was as soft and melodic as the whispertrain that had conducted her here in the first place. And everywhere she looked, there were the custodians: small white spheres that moved through the air like schools of fish. One such school had been waiting for her when she stepped off the platform, welcoming her, in a synthetic chirp, to Novapolis. The custodians explained that her refugee application had been accepted and her face and body metrics had been scanned into the system. She was officially a denizen. They had offered to guide her to housing, but she'd elected to explore instead. All she had to carry was her battered violin case and the ratty backpack slung over her shoulder.
Published on Mar 17, 2018
by Filip Wiltgren
The ogre doesn't react when you enter her hut. She's deep in concentration, head down, hands moving in complicated patterns, dark-brown leather thongs flashing through her fingers. For a moment you hesitate between clearing your throat and banging the pommel of your drawn sword against your shield.
Published on Mar 16, 2018
by N.T. Lawrence
The alien was found on the fifth planet, circling a dying star. The creature, like the star around which its home orbited, was fading. Every human in the system fought for a chance to question the creature, however it was old and tired and said that it would only allow one person to question it. In the end a drawing was held to determine who would have this amazing opportunity. The winner became an overnight celebrity. He was swamped with messages demanding to know what he would ask the last of this great race. Finally he issued a statement, he would ask the meaning behind one of the race's most commonly found written symbols. The language of the alien had so far been impenetrable to human analysis. The only information that could be gathered was how frequently symbols were used. For some reason this symbol dominated their writing. It was discovered carved into stone walls, long abandoned holographic projectors shone the symbol, in one prominent instance the symbol was blasted into the side of a moon, so that any passing spacecraft could see it from orbit. For centuries debate had raged over the symbol's significance. Some felt that it must be the name of the alien's deity. Others felt that it was the unified theory, the long sought after scientific explanation of all aspects of our physical universe. A small group of people even began a religion based around the symbol. When the contest winner announced that he would question the alien about the symbol's meaning, the human population waited with baited breath.
Published on Mar 15, 2018
by Steven Fischer
They told you the surgery would be painless. That you'd feel nothing as they sawed your skull open and wove your white matter full of copper wire. As the bundle of processors that they buried deep in your chest slowly integrated itself into the way you thought, the way you dreamed, the way you were. They didn't lie. But they didn't tell you that you'd feel nothing afterwards, too.
Published on Mar 14, 2018
by Matt Cowan
1. It is not because you are damaging the planet almost irreparably, laying waste to the very flora and fauna that your survival depends on. We have our own planet.
Published on Mar 13, 2018
by Ziggy Schutz
Alina was always told she would really be something when she grew up. A looker, say the adults, tugging at her hair like they can help it grow. Alina sits and stares at the mirror in the hallway, the full length one that reaches up into the sky, stares and stares because if she is going to be a looker she better have the eyes to match. Every day she stares, until her eyes start to bulge from their sockets, and she notices she can see things in the dark corners of rooms no one else can.
Published on Mar 12, 2018
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