Genres: Aliens, Classic S-F, Space
(Excerpt)
The world we now occupy is red, fourth from its sun, and extreme in its temperature. The atmosphere is lethal. Without our shelters we would die. But we will not be here long. Already the attack-cylinders, loaded with machinery and the weapons of destruction, stand ready in the firing tubes. Soon I shall be sending you thoughts from the third planet.
I have loved you.
Recorded at Balticon 43, May 23, 2009
Read by:
Joe – Jared Axelrod (of The Voice of Free Planet X),
Maddie – J.R. Blackwell (of Voices of Tomorrow)
The Farm – Evo Terra and Sheila Dee (of Evo at 11, et al.)
Brenda the Barkeep – Dee Reed (of Nobilis Erotica),
Wendy the Rat – Laura Burns,
Art the Boy Toy – John Cmar,
Bob the Dog – Earl Newton (of Stranger Things),
Narrator – Stephen Eley
Special Thanks To:
Paul Fischer (of The Balticon Podcast) for instigating and organizing
Nobilis Reed (of Nobilis Erotica) for engineering
“Buggerit, I don’t have time for this,” Joe muttered. The stable waiting for the small herd of cloned spidercows cluttering up the north paddock was still knee-deep in manure, and the tractor seat wasn’t getting any warmer while he shivered out here waiting for Maddie to come and sort this thing out. It wasn’t a big herd, but it was as big as his land and his labour could manage – the big biofabricator in the shed could assemble mammalian livestock faster than he could feed them up and sell them with an honest HAND-RAISED NOT VAT-GROWN label.
“What do you want with us?” he yelled up at the gently buzzing farm.
“Brains, fresh brains for baby Jesus,” crooned the farm in a warm contralto, startling Joe half out of his skin. “Buy my brains!” Half a dozen disturbing cauliflower shapes poked suggestively out of the farms’ back then retracted again, coyly.
“Don’t want no brains around here,” Joe said stubbornly, his fingers whitening on the stock of the shotgun. “Don’t want your kind round here, neither. Go away.”
Rated R. Contains profanity, and real and simulated persons behaving badly.
Featured Site:
Playing for Keeps
“Fenneman?”
The studio audience laughed loudly, as it always did when Groucho turned, in mock desperation or annoyance, to his long-suffering, hopelessly square announcer. Groucho’s voice slightly increased in pitch whenever he said Fenneman’s name, as if he were just at the edge of losing his celebrated cool. This half-squawk had been funny in the stateroom scene of A Night at the Opera (“Steward! Steward!”), and it was still funny on You Bet Your Life twenty-five years later. He was a pro, Groucho was, and I did right by him; I modulated that pitch myself.
Rated PG. Parental guidance suggested for violence and ennui.
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Referenced Sites:
Jared Axelrod’s Commissions
We are somewhere among the tallest mountains of the world. When we arrived, I was locked away in a cargo hold, so I don’t know exactly where. Our home is a small, drafty castle and a separate laboratory. Dr. Octavio had the locals construct the lab before he tested the new death ray on their village. There’s very little left there. In my little bit of spare time, I try to bury the bodies and collect anything useful to the doctor’s experiment.
My primary duties consist of keeping the castle’s furnace running and clearing the never-ending snow from the path between the two buildings. Sometimes, it falls too fast for my slow treads and shovel attachment to keep up with and I find myself half-buried in the snow. It is horrible on my gears when this happens, but I use heavyweight oil now and it helps.
It is one of the few benefits of my metal frame that I appreciate. Life in this contraption is like being wrapped in swaddling clothes. I wonder if I would feel anything if my casing caught on fire? I need to ask the doctor when he isn’t in one of his moods.
Referenced Sites:
U.S.S. Mariner
Senses Five Press
“I read an interesting forum post last night,” my electric toothbrush told me over its low burr.
“Thiff ouff thew be thood,” I said through my mouth of foam.
“It was!” he replied. “Using readily available components, Monkeymonkey turned his Intellibrush into a milk frother.”
I spit into the sink and set my toothbrush in its white ceramic charger. “What would I do with a milk frother?”
“Make cappucinos,” my toothbrush said, with a hint of resignation, as I rinsed and spit again.
“I don’t drink cappucinos,” I said.
“You could start!”
Rated R. Contains partial nudity, some language, petty crime, and a few gods’ names taken in vain.
The doors whooshed open and the Goddess Kali strode up to the counter. She stopped in front of him, grinning wickedly. Straight platinum-blonde hair spilled down over her shoulders and high bare breasts, contrasting with her inky black skin. Jeremy noticed a necklace of tiny, perfectly-formed ceramic skulls hung around her neck.
“Hi, Jeremy.”
“‘Lo, Suzy.”
The Goddess Kali’s eyes flashed red with anger. “Don’t call me that!” Behind her, a whole pantheon wandered the aisles, looking for late-night snacks.
Rated PG. Contains violence, chemical warfare, and heavy moral themes.
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The world we now occupy is red, fourth from its sun, and extreme in its temperature. The atmosphere is lethal. Without our shelters we would die. But we will not be here long. Already the attack-cylinders, loaded with machinery and the weapons of destruction, stand ready in the firing tubes. Soon I shall be sending you thoughts from the third planet.
I have loved you.