You’ve probably seen countless links already to “The Dying Fall“, J G Ballard’s last short story, as published in The Guardian over the weekend.
What you might not have seen (and for which we can thank Warren Ellis for spreading) is that, while “The Dying Fall” is indeed Ballard’s last known piece of short fiction, The Guardian haven’t plucked it from the papers left on his desk in his last days; it was in fact originally published in long-running UK sf magazine Interzone in 1996.
I can’t tell you how proud I am to be introducing a story by Tim Pratt at Futurismic. Seriously; this isn’t a man short of professional venues for his wide-ranging fictional output, but he tells us he’s been keen to sell us a story for some time now, and “A Programmatic Approach to Perfect Happiness” rang Chris’s editorial bell in just the right way. It’s something a little different to our usual house style: a little Gonzo, a little retro, but all Tim Pratt. I hope you enjoy it!
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.
I carefully lay my spatula aside. “Your mother is… indisposed.”
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever makes you two happy.” She flounces off toward her bedroom, the black-painted shadowy forbidden portion of our home that my wife April calls “the tumor.”
I go to our bedroom door, push it open gently, and say, “Darling, your post-coital brunch is ready, and I believe Wynter has been infected by the H7P4 strain.”
A groan emerges from the pile of blankets, straps, and oddly-angled cushions that constitutes our bed. “Oh, god. Which one is that again?”
“The one that makes you happy,” I say, and close the door on April’s sardonic laughter. Continue reading NEW FICTION: A PROGRAMMATIC APPROACH TO PERFECT HAPPINESS by Tim Pratt
This month’s fresh fiction at Futurismic is another examination of the ways small and alarmingly plausible advances in science and medicine might affect people’s lives in the near future. This time out, Philip Brewer delivers a dark and touching take on the classic love triangle in “An Education of Scars”. Let us know what you thought in the comments – and enjoy!
I was just two steps from escaping the party by slipping out onto the terrace when I spotted Hostess and Investment Banker Pickering watching me. She didn’t say anything, but her expression of reproach stopped me. I ducked my head.
“Oh, stop it, Peter,” she said. “I invited you to the party to cheer you up, not make you miserable.”
I did my best to look happy.
Hostess Pickering sighed. “Is there anybody here you actually want to talk to? I’ll introduce you.”
I looked around.
The floor was a shimmering sea green. Forty or fifty people drifted back and forth in couples and small groups. Outside it was night, but the terrace was lit just enough to keep the windows from turning into mirrors.
“Peter? I’m not going to introduce you to the terrace.”
I snapped my head back and looked again at the people.
Then I saw a woman. Continue reading NEW FICTION: AN EDUCATION OF SCARS by Philip Brewer
We’ve published a lot of wild and gonzo stuff at Futurismic in recent months, but we wouldn’t want you to make the mistake that’s all we like. And here’s an example: “Erasing the Map” by Marissa Lingen, which is subtle, quietly assertive, and handled perfectly.
Its thesis: If you could have traumatic memories surgically removed, would you take the risk of losing some of the memories you treasure? Read first, then make your mind up and tell us in the comments!
There was this one time, in college. I was arguing politics with this girl. Young Republican type. She had the blonde bob and the baby blue sweater, the whole works. I’d even seen her wear penny loafers. I liked her anyway. We were arguing about gun control, and I said there was absolutely no feeling in the world worse than killing another person.
I think if it had been another circumstance, another time, she would have responded by reaming me out about all the things she could think of that were worse. But it was a party. Maybe she thought I was cute. So instead, she batted those contact-lens-blue eyes at me and said, “And how many people have you killed?”
I said, “Just the one.”
It was the wrong answer, I knew, and the flirting look went off like a switch. But it was the only answer I could give. After she stared at me for a minute, I said, “It was an accident. I was ten years old.” She still didn’t say anything, so I said, “His name was Anthony, and he was my best friend.” Continue reading NEW FICTION: ERASING THE MAP by Marissa Lingen
Via Ken Macleod, Pippa Goldsmith of the genomics forum has launched a competition for short stories concerning genetics themes:
Can we truly control our behaviour and exercise free will if our genetic makeup influences our behaviour and the choices we make in life?
Can we blame crime on genes? Who should hold information about our genes? Who should have access to it? What should be the priority, public safety or personal freedoms?
Can an understanding of genes help feed people in developing countries? Do the advantages outweigh the risks?
Max 3000 words, closing data 31st March, £500 first prize – check it out.