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March 2015 ebook cover

Corruption Harmonic

By Marie Michaels

 

I am all alone.

~~~~~

Like any human’s, my early memories are not clear. Like any human, time passed while my mental faculties were still developing, adapting my essential programming to my environment. Unlike any human, however, the process of acquisition and organization of the information that constructed my reality took about a month. At twenty-nine days, twelve hours and three minutes, I deemed myself adapted.

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by Sergio Suarez - Fiction Vortex September 2014

Against the Dying of the Light

By Cyn Bermudez

Esmy attached a second arm to the latest construct, a titanium coil wrapped in a thick synthetic skin. She pierced the skin impatiently with jagged stitches sewn like a lopsided smile. The needle penetrated with ease, and she hoped this time the sutures wouldn’t rip before The Wakening.

The variable sun sat low in the sky. A deep red light poured in through the small rectangular window at the top of the hub — a river of blood and dust that sparkled in its rusted age. The light reflected off the metal band that wrapped around the neck of the construct, its reflection cut by the shadows that moved along the band like dark splinters on zipper teeth. She called them humans, though the constructs needed more than the preservation modules could provide, and she needed to conserve parts. Compromises needed to be made.

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Art by David Revoy/ Blender Foundation

The Traditional Taste

By Jon Arthur Kitson

The robot didn’t slurp. Koa found that obscene.

No one else in the room seemed to care.

“It’s not mixing air with the coffee,” Koa said. “It won’t get an accurate flavor profile.”

“It doesn’t need air,” a technician — ’Brad’ according to his name tag — answered.

Koa’s eyes rolled. He folded his arms across his chest, squeezed the brass spittoon between his legs and stared down the tasting table at the robot. It sat in his father’s spot.

It’s blank eyes were lit red. Liquid drained into its chest cavity.

No spitting. Obscene.

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