Gemma Green boarded her Moving Across Time machine and set the date to June 1, 1893. “Ready, MAT?” she asked, giving the dashboard of her circular vehicle a pat.
A robotic voice responded, “Ready. When. You Are.”
Gemma sat back in the captain’s chair and
“Madam Centurion MXVII,” the construct intelligence within my gauntlet greets me with its musical, yet mechanical voice.
From my vantage on the precipice of Vox Emperii Inc.’s neon-glowing glass skyscraper, I can overlook nearly all of Rome. “Good evening, Antikythera Moda.”
Ping, pang, ping, pung, pang…
He cringed as his eardrums buzzed from the musical assault. “Man, I don’t think anyone could have made a worse music box. This thing must be broken.” Bobby leaned forward and put the wind-up music box between
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
The XO-76 Mindwarp “Bookmobile” touched down on page 89 of Charles Dickens’s Best Stories (Hanover House, 1959) with its usual finesse, which is to say that all the bit characters who watched it crash into an unluckily placed fruit stand
Read it now
Some people count their blessings. Ebenezer Scrooge preferred to count his money, and that’s exactly what he was doing as quitting time approached on Christmas Eve.
He’d programmed the holo-projector to display his wealth in a variety of ways—as thousand-dollar bills strewn on a king-sized bed, as bars of gold, or in today’s selected fashion, as stacks of Canadian two-dollar coins.
“You’re saying if we don’t stop Dorian from activating these paradox portals, then the entire multiverse will collide into one timeline and destroy reality?” Phezz asked, his bushy tail flicking.
Miriel turned to the squirrel-like Xintixa. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“What would that accomplish?” Harmony’s implanted short-term memory processor spoke for the young girl, imbuing her with a British accent.
There’s a child missing. A boy.
From time itself.
That’s what Luke said.
“Children don’t just vanish,” I told him, sitting at my kitchen table sipping coffee.
“Actually, they do, and may the Earl Grey be with you,” he replied, while looking with confusion at my coffee cup. “Waffles have do you?”
This is—what do the humans call it? —Heaven, Therrus thought. I can be myself and still be around the humans and all the great stuff!
The convention hall teemed with humans, many of them dressed up as various characters from the Earthan sci-fi media Therrus
Earth Station 23
The temperature systems hummed.
I tapped my knuckles against my palm, trying to think, but getting nothing but tightness in my chest and throat.
Stinging in my eyes.
Therrus had told me once that tears, fascinatingly, were the universal expression of grief… Human, Civaran, Klibian…
That didn’t help right now.
Luke’s six-fingered hand trembled as he poured foamed milk with precision into the inky black liquid—each muscle begging to be the first to perform the long-awaited act. He had only read about making an espresso macchiato in his Human Studies courses, but now he was here on Earth, hiding his Civaran hand beneath caffeine-resistant gloves,
Read it now
Dorian staggered as he dropped unceremoniously from the portal. With one hand, he clutched at the strap of the leather portrait tube slung on his back, ensuring that its precious cargo survived the trip. With his other, he gripped the scroll containing the spell that brought him to this place.
Read it now
Recent Comments