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Art by David Revoy/ Blender Foundation

The Rest of His Life

By Tracey S. Rosenberg

The administrator had an unnerving habit of typing while looking straight across the desk. Jameson couldn’t help but wonder if her tap-dancing fingers were striking keys at random.

“Name?” she asked.

“Hers or mine?”

The fingers paused. “Yours, sir. The donor.”

“Jameson Lemuel.”

“Medical center?”

“BeneLift Southwest, division four.”

“Profession?”

“Vice president of still images, PhotoCorp.”

“Age?”

“Forty-nine.” More than old enough to make a donation, since the legal age was eighteen.

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Art by David Revoy/ Blender Foundation

Belbet

By Stephen R. Wilk

YOU HAVE SELECTED THE STORY “BELBET” (Level 2).

NOTE THAT THIS IS IN TRADITIONAL FORMAT. ALL COMMUNICATIONS HAVE BEEN TRANSLATED INTO COLLOQUIAL. OTHER FORMATS ARE AVAILABLE, INCLUDING UNTRANSLATED AND DIFFERENT MEDIA.

COMMENTARY AND NOTES ARE IN BelBet$comexpL2sptlq FOR UNITS WITH CLEARANCE LEVEL 2 AND HIGHER.

APPROPRIATE FOR BOTH SYNTHS AND BIOS.

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Art by David Revoy/ Blender Foundation

The Mood Donation Center

By Alex Bottle

The tall, portly gentleman breezed into Sami’s clinic just as he always did at donation time. No one breezed out again afterwards, not even him, and she felt every note of his whistled “New York, New York” breach her professional facade. She forced out her nurse technician smile and scanned his proffered wrist ID. She never relished observing her handiwork’s effect on the other donors, but she always said it was worse with friends.

“England expects.”

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Art by David Revoy/ Blender Foundation

Doghouse Picnic

By Daniel Lynch

When the apocalypse started about half an hour ago, I thought about cupcakes. It wasn’t really the cupcakes, and I’m sure I don’t know why that was the memory I focused on while the buildings around me were bending like slinkies, but I’d never been in an apocalypse before and for all I knew that was exactly the sort of thing that’s supposed to happen.

“Have you been in an apocalypse before?” Gus asked me about a minute after it started.

I think I made him up.

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Book Review: The Colony: Genesis, by Michaelbrent Collings

Review by Jon Clapier

TThe-Colony-GenesisHE COLONY: GENESIS, by Michaelbrent Collings, is another zombie end-of-the-world-apocalypse. Need I say more? Yes, I do, even at the risk of sounding slightly psychotic by answering my own apparently rhetorical question.

I have spent plenty of time in the slush pile of Fiction Vortex, occasionally finding myself agonizing over some wonderful ideas presented within the hundreds of stories that I have read, but often those excellent ideas were written without the skill to project them in a manner pleasing to the eye and mind. Read more

Art by David Revoy/ Blender Foundation

Take the Standards

by Kallirroe Agelopoulou

There were holes in his head where certain memories should lie. Any attempt to recreate events, any attempt to watch the movie in his mind and it became some foreign, art-house existentialist exercise. Without subtitles.

Spared from the ravaging, only bits and pieces. There was a woman, really young. Her face blurred, but the color of her hair unmistakable. The yellow of the brightest sun. Standing in the middle of a cropped field, the endless blue above shielding her whole body, she was the sun. Read more

Art by David Revoy/ Blender Foundation

Fred10

By Jason X. Bergman

Fred held the control unit in his hand. He was nervous. He wiped a sweaty palm on his jeans. He had devoted ten years to studying the fundamental building blocks of the universe, and at long last he was going to put his theories to the test.

He stood in his kitchen next to the bulky transport machine. It wasn’t pretty, a pile of wires and parts cannibalized from appliances. Read more

Art by David Revoy/ Blender Foundation

Promised Land

By Rebecca Ann Jordan

“It will not come to that.”

“But what if it does?”

If it did, Ariadne would be out of the ruling family. She didn’t dare speak up. But she watched her father rub his neglected chin and silently listened to the voices in her head.

“We will attack at dawn.” Nightfall, then. Lies for the cameras hovering nearby, relics from before the End, rediscovered a decade ago. Polished up, now they relayed what the enemy saw and heard on the other side of the field. “And if it fails, we will propose a duel. Captain Halmon will fight.”

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Art by David Revoy/ Blender Foundation

Loss and Understanding

By Jamie Lackey

Prudence slammed into cold metal, and her nose broke with a sharp crack. Pain flashed through her and faded.

Mathematical formulas spun in her vision like cogs in a watch that had been wound too tight. They shimmered in a delicate rainbow of colors, and they whispered their secrets. Prudence could almost comprehend them.

She tasted blood.

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