Flower, Mercy, Needle, Chain by Yoon Ha Lee | Lightspeed Magazine - 0 views
2 B R 0 2 B by Kurt Vonnegut - 0 views
Seeing by Genevieve Valentine - 0 views
Semiramis by Genevieve Valentine (audio) - 0 views
Semiramis by Genevieve Valentine - 0 views
Escape Pod - 0 views
A Militant Peace by David Klecha and Tobias S. Buckell (audio) - 0 views
Staying Behind by Ken Liu (audio) - 0 views
A Militant Peace by David Klecha and Tobias S. Buckell - 0 views
EP314: Movement : Escape Pod - 0 views
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Words are such fleeting, indefinite things. They slip through the spaces between my thoughts and are lost.
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Other people do not see the shoes the same way I do. They see only the faded satin, battered so much that it has grown threadbare, and the rough wood of the toe box where it juts through the gaps. They do not see how the worn leather has matched itself to the shape of my foot. They do not know what it is like to dance in shoes that feel like a part of your body.
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I begin to warm my muscles, keenly aware of the paths the shadows trace along the walls as sunset fades into darkness. When I have finished the last of my pliésand jetés, stars glimmer through the colored glass of the windows, dizzying me with their progress. I am hurtling through space, part of a solar system flung towards the outer rim of its galaxy. It is difficult to breathe.
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Signals in the Deep by Greg Mellor - 0 views
Signals in the Deep by Greg Mellor (audio) - 0 views
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"Signals in the Deep"
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read by Kate Baker
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by Greg Mellor
EP247: Bridesicle : Escape Pod - 0 views
PodCastle » PodCastle 106: Little Gods - 0 views
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“I wish I could be a little goddess of cinnamon,”
Bridesicle.pdf - 0 views
EP239: A Programmatic Approach to Perfect Happiness : Escape Pod - 0 views
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My step-daughter Wynter, who is regrettably prejudiced against robots and those who love us, comes floating through the door in a metaphorical cloud of glitter instead of her customary figurative cloud of gloom. She enters the kitchen, rises up on the toes of her black spike-heeled boots, wraps her leather-braceleted arms around my neck, and places a kiss on my cheek, leaving behind a smear of black lipstick on my artificial skin and a whiff of white make-up in my artificial nose. "Hi Kirby," she says, voice all bubbles and light, when normally she would never deign to utter my personal designation. "Is Moms around? Haven't talked to her in a million." I know right away that Wynter has been infected.
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