Featured Artist – Jacob Charles Dietz

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Name: Jacob Charles Dietz

Age: 38

Country of residence: USA

Hobbies: When I’m not creating new artwork, I like to explore the road less travelled. Armed with a camera or two, I make my way down the streets people tell you to stay away from, as well as wandering out into the desert to see what I can find. Strange? While most people choose to photograph well-known landmarks, I lean toward abandoned cars, vandalized buildings, and mortuary refuse.

What was the motivation / story behind the featured piece? Serenity (Coming by Jacob Charles DietzStorm) is obviously a piece that’s based in Joss Whedon’s Firefly/Serenity universe, so I really wanted to capture the space cowboy/desolate frontier vibe that worked so well in both the series and the movie. I had the Ballad of Serenity looping in my head the whole time I was working on it, so hopefully that comes across as people view Mal standing on the brink as his ever-reliable iron horse patiently waits. “Take my love. Take my land. Take me where I cannot stand. I don’t care, I’m still free. You can’t take the sky from me…”

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Jennifer Pasco: Burka and Bikini – Steven H. Newton

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Jennifer Pasco: Burka and Bikini

by Steven H. Newton

Jennifer Pasco took her last dose of medicine, threw a bikini and a burka into her backpack, and left her tiny council flat to pick up a refill on her way to the beach. She crowded into the Number Seven bus to Grantham Station, splurging on two strips of highly spiced, unidentifiable meat sold by the Turkish family operating the brazier on the upper deck. Her appetite had rebounded since the last round of chemo; when she was hungry, she ate.

From Grantham she short-hopped to London via Dedicated Transport. More shanties adhered to the walls of Grand Central than six weeks ago; the smell of unwashed bodies, the buzzing of the flies, and the yip-yip-yip of the beggars was nearly overwhelming. Jennifer kept her eyes fixed on the entrance arch where Bobbies in riot gear held open a corridor for travelers. Continue reading

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The Worker Prince – Chapter Five (part two) – Bryan Thomas Schmidt

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The Worker Prince – Chapter Five (part two)

by Bryan Thomas Schmidt

Emotion exploded off Calla’s face. Her eyes lit up and her smile was blinding. She hugged Lura again and swung her around like they were dancing. “Davi? After all these years?”

Lura nodded as Davi extended his hand. Calla laughed and embraced him with passion. “If you think your Aunt Calla will settle for a handshake after twenty-one years, you are quite mistaken.”

“Is Aron in?” Lura asked as she watched them, amused.

Calla released Davi and motioned with her head toward the corridor. “Of course. He’s in the study. Come.” She led them into the house and down a long corridor, which seemed endless—not at all what Davi had expected from a worker’s home. Continue reading

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The Worker Prince – Chapter Five (part one) – Bryan Thomas Schmidt

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The Worker Prince – Chapter Five (part one)

by Bryan Thomas Schmidt

Before he’d finished reading the report, Xalivar’s head already throbbed. Manaen had tactfully disappeared. The little rat reads my dispatches, he noted with displeasure. I should have known. Maybe it’s time to find a new major domo.

After all he had done for Davi, this is how his nephew repaid him—betrayal. It hadn’t been easy to get the Council to ignore the murder of a soldier. Xalivar had explained the circumstances to the members a few at a time in private, and all agreed it was bad for both the Royal Family and the Alliance to proceed with the charges. The few who were reluctant had been convinced with careful reminders of their own families’ secrets. Now, here Davi was, trying to undo everything with one fell swoop!

What is the boy thinking, taking a leave without my permission? I am not just his uncle! I am High Lord Councilor! I should have never allowed Miri to raise the boy herself. I should have stepped in the moment I settled on Davi as my heir. This would not be happening if the boy had a proper sense of his responsibility to the Alliance and his place in it. Continue reading

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Captain Clone – Deborah Walker

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Captain Clone

by Deborah Walker

I worked all night trying to find a quicker, less expensive cure. The colourful boxes of anti-viral agents, tailored bacteria, and antibiotics littered the work surface. In the corner of the sick bay, the radiation lamp flickered blood-coloured light over a tray of discarded Petri dishes.

As the night wore on, my treatments became increasingly experimental. I tried the wilder, alien technologies. I placed the smooth mites of the Pincer world onto the faces of the crew in the hope that the burrowing insects would seek out and consume the infection. I pounded strange aromatic herbs. I concocted desperate combinations.

Until, at last, I found myself chanting. In the sterile lights of the sick bay, I sang a half-remembered prayer to Shimra. I chanted the rituals over the sick women. The words sounded hollow to my ears. Why would the Healing God Shimra hear an unbeliever? Continue reading

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