“And what can I do for you, Tilli?” Dr. Miranda asked.
The gnome youth sat across the desk from her, a wisp of a girl with pink hair and delicate features. While she still had her gnomish dewdrop-shaped eyes and purple skin, she was currently the height of a human teenager
They say there’s nothing like a sea breeze on Earth. That it gets into your joints, pierces the soul. That it’s delicious, as if you could bite off chunks and let it melt on your tongue like Kroterean skyfruit.
But the fumes from Luna’s artificial oceans can make you ill for weeks
“We here at Sphinx Industries pride ourselves on ensuring that your property and information are secure…”
The pleasant voice of the promotional video drones on for the forty-seventh time—slight exaggeration—since I got here two hours ago. Long enough so that everyone has forgotten I’m here. I’m the kind of person people forget
“Ain’t no way they ever put anybody up on that moon,” Hank Owens said confidently.
Mayor Geoff Collins raised an eyebrow. “How do you figure that?”
As Hank laughed, a thin stream of tobacco juice dribbled from the corner of his mouth. “They shot that rocket straight up into the air, right?
“Need a seatbelt, kid?” Gregory smirked.
Robin loosened his white-knuckled grip on the handrail. “I’m good.” He’d expected a wild ride, but time travel was like a thirty-story elevator drop into the past. The machine even dinged as it swooped to a stop. While Robin waited for his vertigo to pass…
“Approaching coordinate J-14. Instability detected. Awaiting your instruction, Clawson.”
Safe in the Pangaea lander, Commander Rex Clawson monitored ANNIE’s progress across the desolate rocky landscape of planetoid Decimus. The drone feed indicated ANNIE stood at the precipice of a yawning gorge. Coordinate J-14 lay 9.5 meters ahead horizontally but 135.6 meters straight down.
July 4th, 2050
I didn’t think my husband and I would qualify for the program. Things don’t usually go our way, especially since Gavin’s release from active duty and the months of trauma that followed. He sits next to me, his fingers playing with his ID badge. The word ARMY is emblazoned across it.
April 27, 1986
The comforting notes of Babushka’s music box make my heart shatter.
What would she have thought, standing in her granddaughter’s shoes, watching the sky morph as radiation pours into the air? Even in the pain, I imagine she would’ve known what to do. How to help. How to make a difference.
Yohva chitters nervously beside me, white fur bristling down the length of her thorax. I whistle a few notes from a half-remembered lullaby and place a reassuring hand above her first pair of eyes. She settles into the shade of the smooth-stone building but keeps her focus on the tree line.
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“Oh no! Oh no! Nixie, what have I done?” Jope yanked his hands away from the control panel. Lights blinked along the dash, but he pressed fists to his eyes and leaned his weight against the harness. He couldn’t bear to look at the teleportation platform across the cabin. It was ominously, horribly silent.
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“Forget deep-sea diving,” Gertrude Tesoro muttered, trying to enjoy Café Regatta’s scenic patio beside Helsinki’s Taivallahti Bay. “The hardest part of this job is getting paid.”
“Client inbound, Aunt Getty,” Cody’s voice came through her earbud.
Lars Korhonen, dressed like a CEO at a board meeting, stood out like a sore thumb among the Saturday morning coffee crowd.
“Plan on harvesting some wheat?” Jake asked, lifting a brow. “Or hacking your way through the jungle?” Trent snorted. I rolled my eyes. “This”—I proffered the scythe—“is a souvenir from my latest investigation.” “Another spirit taking issue with his new living conditions?” Jake paused. “Or, I guess, lack thereof?”
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