Pearlescent light envelops me when I slide from the vent and brush the dust from my tattered dress. A groan parts my lips as my spine uncurls, limbs stretching. I glance around, anxious that I have given myself away. But the airship’s Grand Hall is empty, silent.
Trying to ignore the tempting shape at the end of the room,
I staggered into the kitchen, pulling on the white-grey shirt of my superhero suit and accidentally jamming my toe against a chair. “Ouch!”
Behold, the mighty hero Shields, sans coffee.
With the shirt on properly—never mind, it’s on backward—I jabbed a button on the coffee maker. Gurgle, gurgle.
My stroll down the block came to a halt as I caught the sign in my periphery. TIMELESS: Antiques & Vintage Goods. I could practically feel the time portal pulse with hope, though I’d shoved the former deep within my bag and the latter deep within my soul.
Read it now
“Wake up!” a man barks through a respirator mask as he raps his baton across the window my head rests against.
I stretch open my drugged eyelids and meet an unrecognizable world. I’m waking up to falling ash and a crimson sky.
“It’s the
Zoot pulled the brim of his pilfered bucket hat down to hide his scaled skin and amphibious features. The overcoat he’d procured hid his olive-green flight suit. Thankfully, the black tentacles running down the back of his head imitated the hair of the native creatures, but his disguise was hardly complete.
Read it now
“I’ve got it!” Marc waved off the left fielder and pursued the fly ball.
But his synthetic body, like his physical one in years past, had its weaknesses. As the baseball’s path took it past the sun, Marc’s eyelids closed to keep his vision sensors from burning out, and he lost track of it.
“Mister, um…” Brushing a stray brunette lock from my eyes, I squint at the top section of the form on my clipboard. “I hope I’m pronouncing this right. Is it Uberloorde?”
Bare scalp glistening under the fluorescents of my cramped office, he adjusts
I peered down the prison ward’s empty hallway—shiny and sterilized like everything else in the Domand Empire. “All right, I’m here.” My whisper echoed off the metal walls. “Which cell is Colton’s?”
Alexander’s tinny voice crackled in my earpiece. “B-5.”
On my first day as chief fundraiser for Minifauna Tech, a hamster-sized hippo bit the heels off my favorite pumps. Although their genetically engineered animals are small, crafted to fit shrinking natural habitats, they aren’t tame.
That’s why I insisted on teleconferencing the next meeting. Everyone, including
“Stella, you’re clearly the creative type.” The smiling digital man flowed along the wall screens as Stella walked home. “So, check out StoryTeller Pro 5.0! With just a few prompts…”
She looked down to escape the relentless advertisement, but this street had freaking
“Come on!” I tug C4t3rp1ll3r’s arm as footsteps thud down the corridor from both directions. “If you escaped that video game only to be killed before I learn your real name, I’ll never forgive you. Even though you saved Alice.”
Saving my little sister won’t
Rachel sat up with a groan and instinctively glanced at the holotransponder on her wrist. No signal. Groggily, she activated the recording feature to scan her surroundings.
“This is Science Officer Rachel Birmingham. I’ve teleported to Saecula’s surface, but something went wrong. I was knocked
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