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Etherea Magazine #17
Etherea Magazine, #17. A collection of wonderful speculative fiction, from authors around the globe.
Where It Rains in Colour is reviewed by Katie McIvor
Artist’s Showcase – Kirsty Greenwood
Space Travel is Pretty Boring, Actually – by Jane Brown
Yep, still the same super-scintillating scenery of BIG BLACK NOTHINGNESS outside, as we travelled even further from my old school, my old friends, my old life. I could probably paint the ship’s windows black and not even notice a difference. Space road trips truly suck.
Countless Civilizations Rise and Fall – by Eric Wampler
Would she watch? Countless Civilizations knew human beings sometimes held their breath in anticipation, but breathing was one thing the Augmented Benefits Act framers had not considered.
I Don’t Regret Killing My Boyfriend – by aelily
After I killed my boyfriend, I put his body in the basement, where he vanished into the stone walls and transformed into a shadow.
Every Time the Circus Comes to Town – by Fred Coppersmith
Every time the circus comes to town, someone dies…
Weft and Warp – by Hûw Steer
Here, in the bizarre tangling of luminescent threads that was the Weft, physical reality was nothing but a series of impressions, gravity wells deforming the weave of the universe – as were the masses that slid through the Warp, ships and stranger things besides.
Wallpaper, Dense with Rosebuds – by Kris Bowser
“He doesn’t look a day over forty, and if all he can do is complain, he should stop unnaturally extending his life span.” She glared at the package in my hand, as if accusing it. “Wouldn’t it be nice to do something useful with that room he’s in?”
The Fruits of a Prostitute’s Labor – by John Oakes
His clients were men, more often than not. Joseph would stand at the street corner and wait as they watched him from their cars. It was easy to tell who wanted him…
This Too Shall Pass – by Bob McHugh
“Stop there, traveler,” Gargon commanded. She looked like a human in the usual ways: red hair atop her head and nowhere else; spongy fingers that burned in the sun and pruned in the water; legs three times his size with one-third of the leaping ability. He wondered how humans survived anything.
Our Fate, Told in Photons – by K.W. Colyard
If you believed in luck, you might have said we were fortunate. After all, it was only good timing that allowed us both to survive. Had we come along at any other era, in any other place, our family would have buried Casto and found some way to be content with me—stocky, hairy, flat-faced, flat-chested me.
Coiffeur Seven – by Kiran Kaur Saini
I can’t speak for other branches, but as the first autonomous branch of the Limbic Interface, I’m proud to say that the HairForce Systems Coiffeur network can out-style any overworked minder who just wants to get the task over with.
The Eight Hundred Legs Of The Rio-Niterói Bridge – by Renan Bernardo
Perhaps a fisherman saw a hand waving desperately for help in the water? How could she be sure without staring into the glazed, distant eyes of a deceased husband? After those days, I convinced myself I’d never look at pictures of the bridge under construction again…
The One That is All – by Mike Adamson
The members of the council, drawn from across the worlds of the Middle Stars, both the human colonies and those of several races with whom we maintained a vigorous and productive exchange, were grave-faced…