http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/itunes-rss/ Lightspeed Magazine » Lightspeed Magazine - Science Fiction & Fantasy http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com Science Fiction & Fantasy Tue, 16 Sep 2014 18:55:55 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=4.0 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=4.0 Science Fiction & Fantasy Lightspeed Magazine no Science Fiction & Fantasy Lightspeed Magazine » Lightspeed Magazine - Science Fiction & Fantasy http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/wp-content/plugins/powerpress/rss_default.jpg http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com Interview: Mary Robinette Kowal http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/interview-mary-robinette-kowal/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/interview-mary-robinette-kowal/#comments Tue, 16 Sep 2014 10:05:41 +0000 The Geek’s Guide to the Galaxy http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12990 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/interview-mary-robinette-kowal/feed/ 0 Author Spotlight: Matthew Hughes http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-matthew-hughes-7/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-matthew-hughes-7/#comments Tue, 16 Sep 2014 10:04:39 +0000 Sandra Odell http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12984 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-matthew-hughes-7/feed/ 0 Under the Scab http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/scab/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/scab/#comments Tue, 16 Sep 2014 10:03:31 +0000 Matthew Hughes http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=13012 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/scab/feed/ 0 It was too late in the day to start back to Indoberia. Kaslo tried to find ways to busy himself about the castle, but his thoughts would not leave him alone. Finally, he went up to the flat roof of one of the larger towers and leaned against the parape... Previously on The Kaslo Chronicles: As a new age of magic dawns amid the ruins of the former technological civilization on Novo Bantry, wizard’s henchman Erm Kaslo is on the trail of the horde of multi-legged creatures that carried off the survivors who had taken shelter at the castle of his employer, the wizard Diomedo Obron. The tracks lead to an interplanar portal into the Seventh Plane. Kaslo has no idea what awaits him there, but knows that he must go through.To read the other stories in the series, visit lightspeedmagazine.com/kaslo (http://lightspeedmagazine.com/kasl). "Under the Scab" It was too late in the day to start back to Indoberia. Kaslo tried to find ways to busy himself about the castle, but his thoughts would not leave him alone. Finally, he went up to the flat roof of one of the larger towers and leaned against the parapet as the planet’s sun sank below a horizon no longer broken by the Commune’s skyline. In the opposite direction, the stars were coming out, but Kaslo saw only a handful of the glittering orbitals that used to stretch in a sparkling, glinting arc across the night sky. Some had been thrown off into space, some had come down in searing fireballs, some had just gone dark and died. He thought about the millions of people who had lived up there, thought about how they had died and about how a few desperate survivors might be gasping for their last breaths of dwindling air even now. Nothing could be done for them, just as nothing could be done for the people snatched from the village where he had promised them safety. When he’d made the promise, he’d thought it genuine. A sturdy palisade, a rotation of sentries, a tocsin to sound a warning: all just matters of common sense. But he saw now that he had been playing by the rules of another game—a game whose pieces had all been brutally swept from the table, to be replaced by a new and sinister collection of elements. And the rules, he thought. I not only don’t know them; I may never know how to play. • • • • Kaslo and Bodwon did not go straight to the whimsy. Instead, they went to the southern edge of the city, to where the spaceport still stood. The op was surprised to find the place virtually intact. The only major destruction he saw was where a liner must have been just about to touch down at the moment of change. When its in-atmosphere drive failed, the huge vessel had crashed onto the pad, bursting apart like a great ceramic ball. Broken fittings, broken crockery, broken bodies, were scattered in a circular field of destruction all around the ruptured hulk. They made their way past the edge of the debris. Their destination was the main terminal, where the supplies were kept. Then Kaslo spotted a familiar shape sticking out of the liner’s remains. “Wait,” he said. He picked his way through the mess and came to the still recognizable remains of a second-class bunk. The compartment built into the headboard was closed, and of course it no longer knew how to open itself at Kaslo’s command. But he wedged the end of his knife into a crack and heard a click. The cubby sprang open. The op reached inside and found what he’d been looking for: several ampoules of the medications taken to reduce mental stress and the possibility of permanent derangement among passengers who went through the irreality of a whimsy. The find meant they wouldn’t have to search the spaceport’s supply center, which he expected would have been heavily looted. Kaslo called up his mental map of Indoberia as it had been, and worked out the shortest route to the Commune’s connaissarium. It would mean crossing the ornamental canal, but he was hopeful that at least one of the simple footbridges would still be standing. If not, they’d make some kind of raft. As it turned out, they arrived dry-footed at the square where the connaissarium had stood, though they were tired from scaling and descending more piles of shattered crystal and masonry. Lightspeed Magazine no 50:26 Author Spotlight: Holly Black http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-holly-black-3/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-holly-black-3/#comments Tue, 16 Sep 2014 10:02:18 +0000 Robyn Lupo http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12965 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-holly-black-3/feed/ 0 Ten Rules for Being an Intergalactic Smuggler (the Successful Kind) http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/ten-rules-intergalactic-smuggler-successful-kind/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/ten-rules-intergalactic-smuggler-successful-kind/#comments Tue, 16 Sep 2014 10:01:17 +0000 Holly Black http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12998 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/ten-rules-intergalactic-smuggler-successful-kind/feed/ 1 Artist Showcase: Steve Tung http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/artist-showcase-steve-tung/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/artist-showcase-steve-tung/#comments Tue, 09 Sep 2014 10:05:34 +0000 Henry Lien http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12960 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/artist-showcase-steve-tung/feed/ 0 Author Spotlight: Aliette de Bodard http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-aliette-de-bodard-3/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-aliette-de-bodard-3/#comments Tue, 09 Sep 2014 10:04:49 +0000 Jude Griffin http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12983 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-aliette-de-bodard-3/feed/ 0 Prayers of Forges and Furnaces http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/prayers-forges-furnaces/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/prayers-forges-furnaces/#comments Tue, 09 Sep 2014 10:03:27 +0000 Aliette de Bodard http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=13011 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/prayers-forges-furnaces/feed/ 0 Author Spotlight: Saundra Mitchell http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-saundra-mitchell/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-saundra-mitchell/#comments Tue, 09 Sep 2014 10:02:12 +0000 Laurel Amberdine http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12964 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-saundra-mitchell/feed/ 0 Starfall http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/starfall/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/starfall/#comments Tue, 09 Sep 2014 10:01:12 +0000 Saundra Mitchell http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12997 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/starfall/feed/ 1 Illustrated by Reiko Murikami KV-62 went supernova today. Well, according to the news, it went supernova on March 14, 1592, but we’re just now finding out about it. Other things that happened on this day in history: Eli Whitney got a patent for the cotton gin, (http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/Starfall_575x442.jpg) KV-62 went supernova today. Well, according to the news, it went supernova on March 14, 1592, but we’re just now finding out about it. Other things that happened on this day in history: Eli Whitney got a patent for the cotton gin, Charles I granted a royal charter to the Massachusetts Bay Colony, and I was fished out of a trash can in the Union Square subway station. That’s not in order, not chronologically, or in order of importance. They’re just facts, presented for your amusement and edification. Like my arrival into this world, KV-62’s demise is a surprise. It wasn’t on the Wikipedia list of stars about to shit themselves. It was, until this morning anyway, a lonely little nobody star, sort of in the middle of nowhere. Now it’s in the middle of nothing; actually, it has been for four hundred twenty-two years. This fact, I’m thinking, is going to be repeated frequently as the day goes on. Speed of light, light years away, Star Wars jokes, when you wish upon a . . . oops, never mind. Hair wrapped, lunch packed, I step into the morning. I look at the sky, but it’s a waste of motion. The only stars in the city are the ones sitting in puffy coats, cordoned off from the masses, backing up traffic in every direction while they shoot the five thousandth episode of Law and Order: Epic Crimes Division. So for me, the supernova isn’t real yet, even though it’s ubiquitous. It’s the top story on my news feed, the TV, the radio. Print papers are pissed as hell, I bet, but who reads print papers anymore, anyway? There’s already a Google doodle for it. Hazy pictures crowd my Twitter timeline, shots of the sky with a bright point fixed in the middle. The story’s big enough, or weird enough, or something enough, that strangers on the bus look up when I get on. A general buzz of conversation fades, and a black man with an iPad leans toward me, interested. “Did you hear about the star?” he asks. This feels like a movie. A stage play. The opening act of a web series or something. Looping my messenger bag over my neck, I slide into the space beside him. “Yeah, weird, huh?” A little blonde I’ve seen a million times and never spoken to cranes into the aisle. “If you get out of the city, you can see it. Like, in the daytime, even.” “That’s what I heard,” another woman says. She balances a basket of oranges and mandarins on her knees. The fruit’s ripe, nipping scent perfumes the air. It’s a nice switch up from the usual BO, motor oil, and general-city-life smell. “They didn’t even see it coming!” The man with the iPad turns the screen to her. “Just like that meteor in Russia. Came out of nowhere, and bam!” “Makes you wonder what else they don’t know,” Fruit Basket says. Suspiciously, like there might be a conspiracy theory. Astronomy versus the world. Rogue planets lying in wait. Celestial ambushes. “What’s that URL?” the blonde asks. Cell phone whipped out, she watches iPad expectantly. “Because I can tell right now, my daughter’s going to end up doing fifty million supernova projects at school. I may as well start collecting citations.” The passengers buzz around me, and I fade into my own quiet. Listening, but not listening, I press the tip of one index finger to the other. A tingle runs between them, like the skin fell asleep. But just there, just on the tip of one finger. I can’t tell if this supernova thing is really important or if it’s just a slow news day. So I fixate on my finger, numb but not numb. It’s real and it’s mine, and basically, that’s how people are, right? If it’s about you, it’s the center of the universe, no matter what. • • • • This is my job: I check out a sequentially numbered binder from the archive. I carry it to my desk; I open it. Then I log onto my computer, and search the server until I find the database that matches the binder. Open. Start on page one. Type. See, Lightspeed Magazine no 42:02 Editorial, September 2014 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/editorial-september-2014/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/editorial-september-2014/#comments Tue, 02 Sep 2014 10:05:46 +0000 John Joseph Adams http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12956 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/editorial-september-2014/feed/ 2 Author Spotlight: Sarah Pinsker http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-sarah-pinsker/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-sarah-pinsker/#comments Tue, 02 Sep 2014 10:04:32 +0000 Sandra Odell http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12978 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-sarah-pinsker/feed/ 0 No Lonely Seafarer http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/lonely-seafarer/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/lonely-seafarer/#comments Tue, 02 Sep 2014 10:03:07 +0000 Sarah Pinsker http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=13010 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/lonely-seafarer/feed/ 3 On the nights Mrs. Wainwright let me work in the barn instead of the tavern, I used to sing to the horses. They would greet me with their own murmurs, and swivel their ears to follow my voice as I readied their suppers. On the nights Mrs. Wainwright let me work in the barn instead of the tavern, I used to sing to the horses. They would greet me with their own murmurs, and swivel their ears to follow my voice as I readied their suppers. That was where Captain Smythe found me: in the barn, singing a song of my own making. I shut up as soon as I heard the door squeal on its hinges. “You’re Freddy Turlington’s boy, aren’t you?” His voice was rummy but not drunk. There were men around I felt the need to hide from, but he didn’t seem like one of them. “Turlington was my father.” I watched him from one of the stalls. He sat down heavily on a bale of bedding straw, grunting as if the effort pressed all the air from his lungs. He wore a well-fitted blue coat and his boots still shone with care, which set him apart from most of our patrons these days. “You must be, what, ten now?” I didn’t answer, but resumed my feeding rounds. Thirteen. Close enough. The horses rumbled their “pleases” and “thank yous.” “What’s your name, child?” “Alex,” I answered. “Alex, do you know who I am?” “Captain Smythe. My father sailed with you.” “Freddy was a good sailor and a good cook. I was sorry he got himself killed.” That one didn’t really have an answer, so I left it. I climbed up into the loft, dangling my legs over. He looked up at me. His face was red, but less from drink than from exposure, as far as I could tell from the uniformity of the color. His skin had the look of leather left out in the sun. “Can you sail, child?” “Yes, sir.” I wished he would get to his point, whatever it was, but he was in no hurry. He closed his eyes. I thought for a moment he had fallen asleep, but then he addressed me again. “I’d like you to sail out with me next week.” I assessed him again. I hadn’t thought him drunk, but he had to know we couldn’t sail anywhere. I chose to take the practical tack first. “I can’t. My father bonded me to Mrs. Wainwright when he left me here.” “I spoke with Mrs. Wainwright about buying your bond. Or leasing it, I should say. I’ll only have need of you for a short trip. I need somebody your age on board. Do you know why?” I considered for a moment. “You think I can get you past the sirens?” He smiled. “Well done. Yes. We must get past the sirens, and beeswax doesn’t bloody well do it, contrary to anything Homer said. Bright child.” It didn’t take intelligence. There wasn’t a person in Dog’s Bay who hadn’t heard about the sirens now nesting on the headland, singing at anyone who tried to pass, keeping ships from getting in or out. The streets and the taverns and the boardinghouses were all clogged with sailors, who were in turn clogged with their desire to be back on the sea. It was part of why I felt so much safer in the barn. The Salt Dog tavern became rowdier with each passing night. Fights and fires would come next, according to Mrs. Wainwright. She said she was old enough to have seen it all before. “What about sirens?” I had asked her. She shook her head. “Not personally, but search the sea long enough and you’ll see most stories have some truth to them.” Everyone in port had an opinion on how to get past the sirens. In recent evenings past, clearing tables, I had heard debate after debate on the matter. Lucius Nickleby had been the first to try to leave. He and his men had stuffed their ears with beeswax, the way the Greeks had done. John Harrow watched through his spyglass on shore as they threw themselves from the deck. Ahmed Fairouz, with his fluyt Mahalia, had attempted to outrun the bewitching songs. The Mahalia was dashed to splinters on the rocks below the promontory. A month later, pieces were still washing to shore with each tide. “You understand what I’m proposing, boy?” Smythe asked. “You’re hoping that their voices don’t work on a child.” “I’m betting my life on it.” I dropped down from the loft and walked over to where he was sitting. Lightspeed Magazine no 42:35 Author Spotlight: Tananarive Due http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-tananarive-due-3/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-tananarive-due-3/#comments Tue, 02 Sep 2014 10:02:08 +0000 Jude Griffin http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12963 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-tananarive-due-3/feed/ 0 Herd Immunity http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/herd-immunity/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/herd-immunity/#comments Tue, 02 Sep 2014 10:01:08 +0000 Tananarive Due http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12996 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/herd-immunity/feed/ 6 Interview: Elizabeth Bear http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/interview-elizabeth-bear/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/interview-elizabeth-bear/#comments Tue, 26 Aug 2014 10:05:35 +0000 The Geek’s Guide to the Galaxy http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12885 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/interview-elizabeth-bear/feed/ 0 Author Spotlight: Kat Howard http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-kat-howard-4/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-kat-howard-4/#comments Tue, 26 Aug 2014 10:04:57 +0000 Lee Hallison http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12829 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-kat-howard-4/feed/ 0 A Meaningful Exchange http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/meaningful-exchange/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/meaningful-exchange/#comments Tue, 26 Aug 2014 10:03:19 +0000 Kat Howard http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12860 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/meaningful-exchange/feed/ 2 Quentin told lies to people for money. Or drugs. Or kittens. Or anything, really. The particular currency didn’t matter, so long as what was being offered had value to the person who needed the lie. Quentin told lies to people for money. Or drugs. Or kittens. Or anything, really. The particular currency didn’t matter, so long as what was being offered had value to the person who needed the lie. Lying was Quentin’s one great talent. He enjoye... Lightspeed Magazine no Author Spotlight: David I. Masson http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-david-masson/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-david-masson/#comments Tue, 26 Aug 2014 10:02:52 +0000 Rich Horton http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12821 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-david-masson/feed/ 0 Traveller’s Rest http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/travellers-rest/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/travellers-rest/#comments Tue, 26 Aug 2014 10:01:44 +0000 David I. Masson http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12836 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/travellers-rest/feed/ 1 Interview: Christopher Moore http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/interview-christopher-moore/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/interview-christopher-moore/#comments Tue, 19 Aug 2014 10:05:38 +0000 The Geek’s Guide to the Galaxy http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12881 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/interview-christopher-moore/feed/ 0 Author Spotlight: Gwyneth Jones http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-gwyneth-jones/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-gwyneth-jones/#comments Tue, 19 Aug 2014 10:04:54 +0000 Laurel Amberdine http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12828 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-gwyneth-jones/feed/ 0 The Grass Princess http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/grass-princess/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/grass-princess/#comments Tue, 19 Aug 2014 10:03:35 +0000 Gwyneth Jones http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12852 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/grass-princess/feed/ 2 Author Spotlight: E. Catherine Tobler http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-e-catherine-tobler/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-e-catherine-tobler/#comments Tue, 19 Aug 2014 10:02:48 +0000 Jude Griffin http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12820 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-e-catherine-tobler/feed/ 0 A Box, a Pocket, a Spaceman http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/box-pocket-spaceman/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/box-pocket-spaceman/#comments Tue, 19 Aug 2014 10:01:29 +0000 E. Catherine Tobler http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12835 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/box-pocket-spaceman/feed/ 0 The spaceman shows up on a hot summer afternoon, not in the dead of night when you’re crouched in the garden peering through a telescope that shows you the endless glories and wonders of the night sky. There’s no spaceship making a bright arc against a... The spaceman shows up on a hot summer afternoon, not in the dead of night when you’re crouched in the garden peering through a telescope that shows you the endless glories and wonders of the night sky. There’s no spaceship making a bright arc against a star-spangled sky. Just a man in a spacesuit, standing at the edge of your hammock. His presence reminds you school is over and relatives will be coming soon and you don’t want to see them. They will ask you who can’t see beyond the edge of your hammock about grades and ambitions and Plans For the Future. Aunt Fran is dead and there’s just no fixing it, but funerals help us move on, Mom says so, and Mom Knows Best. You don’t want to go, because going means it happened and going means something is over. You ask the spaceman where his blue box is and he stares at you like you’ve lost your entire mind, because boxes, he tells you in absolute certainty, are no good for space flight. Boxes are not geometrically synergistic, he tells you, whether cardboard or wood or blue. He doesn’t have any kind of an accent, no bow tie, no box, and he’s lost. He tells you he’s lost. This is just Earth, you tell him, and he says he knows that, how stupid do you think he is, he’s been here before, so many times before he knows Rubik’s Cubes and arcades and the way ugly yellow dish gloves will stick to your fingers and turn inside out if they’re too hot when you take them off. He remembers when an icy Big Gulp in a sweating plastic cup was the best part of summer—that’s why he’s here now, summer, and why it’s afternoon, and why— He looks over his shoulder and you, who had been plucking brows into perfect and silently sarcastic arcs in a handheld mirror while the hammock made its creak-creak-creak sound against the tree trunks, follow his gaze, because you expect robots or aliens or something to have followed him. Through a portal, from the oozing innards of a crashed spaceship, Beyond the Abyss of Time. You expect something hulking and green, or slimy and black. But there’s only the quiet fence-trimmed lane that runs alongside the bayou, bushes bending in a breeze. In the tall pecan tree, the swing moves of its own accord. This is Louisiana, you tell him, and smack the mosquito that alights on your leg. You brush away the bloody, black smear of the bug, then tuck your mirror and tweezers into the hammock pillows. And he knows it’s Louisiana, too, so you throw up your hands and tell him he’s not lost in the least bit, then, and to have a very good day indeed, don’t let the gate hit him on the way out. You don’t even think he’s a spaceman anymore, but then he’s closer than he was a blink ago. So close you can see the space dust on the shoulders of his strange suit. Space dust? Listen to me very carefully, he tells you—and this is rather something a spaceman should say, you’ve imagined it a hundred times, right before one arrives to carry you away (away, away, away, this is all you want). Listen to me very carefully, he says to you, because they will be here soon, and time is of the essence, you understand time, and of course you understand time. You roll your eyes and there’s something of a smile on his face, the same way there was when you asked where his box was. They will be here soon, you echo, and wriggle your fingers at him. Menacing. Can’t you do better than that, you ask. Is it hundred-foot tall robots? Is it slime-dripping, four hundred meter-tall monsters from an oceanic pit? Technically, he says, a crevasse—you can see the bayou, can you not, this is where the world is broken—and while they’ve been here all along, they’ve never come out, not until now, because of him. Right, you say, because of you. The Chosen One. Rather not, he says, and rolls his eyes just the way you did—is he learning things from you already? He’s not chosen, he tells you—no one is ever actually chosen, are they, he says, because that means someone else wanted them, and no, Lightspeed Magazine no Artist Showcase: Vitaly Timkin http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/artist-showcase-vitaly-timkin/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/artist-showcase-vitaly-timkin/#comments Tue, 12 Aug 2014 10:05:10 +0000 Henry Lien http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12889 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/artist-showcase-vitaly-timkin/feed/ 0 Author Spotlight: Tahmeed Shafiq http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-tahmeed-shafiq/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-tahmeed-shafiq/#comments Tue, 12 Aug 2014 10:04:51 +0000 Liz Argall http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12827 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-tahmeed-shafiq/feed/ 0 The Djinn Who Sought To Kill The Sun http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/djinn-sought-kill-sun/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/djinn-sought-kill-sun/#comments Tue, 12 Aug 2014 10:03:47 +0000 Tahmeed Shafiq http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12851 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/djinn-sought-kill-sun/feed/ 1 They travelled all day, and at night came to rest by one of the large rocks that jut from the desert. The last caveat to voyagers before the plains of windswept sand. Here is what the boy heard: “Long ago, almost fifty years by official counting, They travelled all day, and at night came to rest by one of the large rocks that jut from the desert. The last caveat to voyagers before the plains of windswept sand. Here is what the boy heard: “Long ago, almost fifty years by official counting, there was a boy named Alladin living in the alleyways of the city, a scavenger, thief, and trickster. “When he had seen seventeen summers pass, he thought it high time he sought out his fortune. So, with all the arrogance and strength of youth at his side, he set out for the mountain caves where the sorcerers were said to live. “When he asked to join them he was turned away. He was too young, too inexperienced. Full of anger he left, swearing revenge.” The rest was . . . vague. The djinn seemed to have slipped into another language, one the boy didn’t know. The little he was able to make out made little sense. He caught the words “punishment” and “fools” and “beloved,” but aside from that . . . Eventually the djinn’s tirade subsided and he continued: “The guardians told him what the place was, who I was, but that only seemed to encourage him. He killed them, and entered the chamber. He freed me from my shackles . . . and bound me again. In a lamp. Cheap copper bought from a trader. To contain me. “For the next forty-eight years he kept me a slave. Had me kill the magicians and build him his kingdom and win your mother’s heart. Forced to do his bidding, for . . . forty-eight years . . .” Two hundred years in chains, overall. The djinn looked up at the night sky to clear his eyes from the smoke. Two tears slipped down his chin to lie in the sand. My love, he thought sadly. He glanced at the boy, asleep curled up like a cat. “Sleep well,” he said. “Tomorrow we go to kill the sun.” • • • • The desert stretched out before them. Waves of sand rolled across the vista under a blue, empty sky, boiling in the heat of the sun. Every breath the djinn took felt like fire in his lungs. He shifted in his saddle and glanced at the boy. He was slumped over the back of his camel as the beast plodded its way along. His lips were cracked and bleeding. If they didn’t find water quickly . . . He looked to the horizon, ignoring the shimmering mirages, and his heart lightened as he saw a dark blot perhaps two miles away. As they got closer it became clearer: a cluster of reddish rocks shaped like a pyramid, twice his height, one side open to reveal darkness and the sound of cool, flowing water. The boy wasn’t asleep, but he had been struck hard by the heat. The djinn made him lie down in the shade of the structure and ventured inside. It had been made by human hands a long time ago, for weathered steps cut into the rock descended into darkness. But those would have to wait. The dripping sound he had heard came from a tiny well set into the floor. A crudely excavated hollow flung the echoes of the flowing stream upwards, one of the many that crisscrossed the desert just like the caravans. There was no bucket, so the djinn called forth the water with magic, using only the barest amount of energy required. He would need it all later. He filled both waterskins and took them to the boy. The lad was so tired he couldn’t even sit up, so the djinn forced water in between his lips and washed his dusty face. Somewhat rejuvenated, the boy sat up and drank by himself. “Slowly now, not too much all at once.” He took the chance to water both himself and the camels and to chew a strip of dried meat, tough as leather between his jaws. The boy ate what little he could and promptly fell asleep with his head on his chest. Let him sleep. I’ll be long enough. He took off his cloak, covered the boy with it, and disappeared into the cave. The steps were steep and there was no light to see by, which didn’t really bother him. He’d spent half a century languishing in a prison far darker than this. He couldn’t tell how far down they went, or how long he descended, Lightspeed Magazine no Author Spotlight: Gardner Dozois http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-gardner-dozois/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-gardner-dozois/#comments Tue, 12 Aug 2014 10:02:44 +0000 Jude Griffin http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12819 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-gardner-dozois/feed/ 0 Morning Child http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/morning-child/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/morning-child/#comments Tue, 12 Aug 2014 10:01:40 +0000 Gardner Dozois http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12834 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/morning-child/feed/ 0 Editorial, August 2014 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/editorial-august-2014-2/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/editorial-august-2014-2/#comments Tue, 05 Aug 2014 10:05:12 +0000 John Joseph Adams http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12880 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/editorial-august-2014-2/feed/ 0 Author Spotlight: Ken Liu http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-ken-liu-9/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-ken-liu-9/#comments Tue, 05 Aug 2014 10:04:48 +0000 Christie Yant http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12826 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-ken-liu-9/feed/ 0 Author Spotlight: An Owomoyela http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-owomoyela/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-owomoyela/#comments Tue, 05 Aug 2014 10:02:41 +0000 Jude Griffin http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12818 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-owomoyela/feed/ 0 State Change http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/state-change/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/state-change/#comments Tue, 05 Aug 2014 10:01:51 +0000 Ken Liu http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12850 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/state-change/feed/ 3 Undermarket Data http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/undermarket-data/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/undermarket-data/#comments Tue, 05 Aug 2014 10:01:19 +0000 An Owomoyela http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12805 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/undermarket-data/feed/ 2 Illustrated by Galen Dara A drink arrived that Culin hadn’t ordered. No one sent drinks to the crowded annex where Culin sat, crammed in with seven other people, all with contagion bands on their sleeves and matching tattoos on their arms. (http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/illustration-for-undermarket-data-by-an-Owomoyela-575x442.jpg) A drink arrived that Culin hadn’t ordered. No one sent drinks to the crowded annex where Culin sat, crammed in with seven other people, all with contagion bands on their sleeves and matching tattoos on their arms. Sending drinks was an affectation Culin didn’t see much in the Dead Engine at all. The bartender who’d brought it over—Nis with the slit nostrils, the only one who’d serve the contages with anything approaching civility—shrugged, pointed to a woman at the counter, and said “Don’t ask me.” “I can’t accept this,” Culin said. The thumb glass was sweating in the muggy air, and Culin could smell it from where he sat. It smelled like spices, something organic, something expensive. Everyone in the annex was watching. “It’s paid and she won’t take it back,” Nis said, and pushed the glass at Culin. Culin took it. Then, as Nis walked away, and before any of the other contages could make an offer or express interest or make a grab for it, Culin tipped it back into his mouth. The drink was red and full-bodied and savory-sweet, with only the breath of the alcohol keeping it from feeling syrupy on his tongue. He wasn’t worried about being drugged. His armband marked him as too virulent to take advantage of, and there were cheaper ways to get at someone in his profession. When he lowered the glass he saw the woman who’d bought it already on her way out the door. He jumped up, abandoning his own cheap distillate, but by the time he limped out of the door she’d already vanished into the spider’s-maze of alleyways. It was shitting down rain, most of it hitting the walls and the wires and the dishes with their antennas nosing toward the shreds of sky; a few lucky droplets managed a direct path down onto Culin’s neck and shoulders, while the rest slid down the buildings and into the gutters. Not many people wanted to be out on nights like this. Not many got a choice. Culin sighed, and unclipped his gloves from his belt. There was no point in returning to the bar; Nis made it his business to know as little as possible, and no one else would touch the mystery. A red cordial for a red-banded contage, a disappearing woman—what good would come of wondering about it? He pulled the gloves on and fastened the buckles around his wrists, setting the rubber snug against his palms. Then he took hold of the data line running up the side of the bar and climbed into the disused vertical avenues of the city. • • • • The white flag, stained grey from rain and city grime, called him halfway up a block of flats to a job. People like him didn’t have territories, but this—inconvenient from the streets and rooftops both—was as close as it came to his: the space where it was easier for those who preferred to move in three dimensions than two. There was no ledge at the window, but good climbers never needed them. This window had a clothesline anchor, an outdated and rusting data satellite, a data network link, a lectric link, an illegal lectric link, and a canister full of mineral wool in which a few seeds were failing to germinate. He made the leap from the opposite building and caught the proper network’s lectric link—never could tell how the hack jobs would hold—and knocked on the window. No one answered for a minute or so, then a shadow came up to the window grime and slid the plastic away. With that gone, the shadow became a young woman, who blinked blearily at him and then settled her eyes, as though by natural magnetism, on his arm. “LEMR. What do you need?” Culin said, and shifted. If he hooked his foot against the bolts of the hydroponics pot he could lean away from the window. Give her some contage-free space to breathe. She blinked at the band, then swallowed and looked at his eyes. “Data’s out. I’m running security on Tii Market; I can’t go dry.” Culin grunted. Lightspeed Magazine no 2014 Hugo Award for Best Semiprozine http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/honors/2014-hugo-award-best-semiprozine/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/honors/2014-hugo-award-best-semiprozine/#comments Fri, 01 Aug 2014 19:08:29 +0000 Lightspeed Magazine http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12923 Lightspeed is the 2014 Hugo Award winner for Best Semiprozine.]]> http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/honors/2014-hugo-award-best-semiprozine/feed/ 0 Interview: Richard Garriott http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/interview-richard-garriott/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/interview-richard-garriott/#comments Tue, 22 Jul 2014 10:05:41 +0000 The Geek’s Guide to the Galaxy http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12652 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/interview-richard-garriott/feed/ 0 Author Spotlight: Emma Bull http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-emma-bull/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-emma-bull/#comments Tue, 22 Jul 2014 10:04:34 +0000 Jude Griffin http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12638 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-emma-bull/feed/ 0 De La Tierra http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/de-la-tierra/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/de-la-tierra/#comments Tue, 22 Jul 2014 10:03:11 +0000 Emma Bull http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12717 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/de-la-tierra/feed/ 0 The piano player drums away with her left hand, dropping all five fingers onto the keys as if they weigh too much to hold up. The rhythms bounce off the rhythms of what her right hand does, what she sings. It’s like there’s three different people in th... The piano player drums away with her left hand, dropping all five fingers onto the keys as if they weigh too much to hold up. The rhythms bounce off the rhythms of what her right hand does, what she sings. It’s like there’s three different people in that little skinny body, one running each hand, the third one singing. But they all know what they’re doing. He sucks a narrow stream of Patrón over his tongue and lets it heat up his mouth before he swallows. He wishes he knew how to play an instrument. He wouldn’t mind going up at the break, asking if he could sit in, holding up a saxophone case, maybe, or a clarinet. He’d still be here at 3 a.m., jamming, while the waiters mopped the floors. That would be a good place to be at 3 a.m. Much better than rolling up the rug, burning the gloves, dropping the knife over the bridge rail. Figuratively speaking. They aren’t that unalike, she and he. He has a few people in his body, too, and they also know what they’re doing. The difference is, his have names. “¿Algo más?” The wide-faced waitress sounds Salvadoran. She looks too young to be let into a bar, let alone make half a bill a night in tips. She probably sends it all home to mami. The idea annoys him. Being annoyed annoys him, too. No skin off his nose if she’s not blowing it at the mall. He actually is too young to legally swallow this liquor in a public place, but of course he’s never carded. A month and a half and he’ll be twenty-one. Somebody ought to throw a party. “Nada. Grácias.” She smiles at him. “Where you from? Chihuahua?” “Burbank.” Why does she care where he’s from? He shouldn’t have answered in Spanish. “No, your people—where they from? My best friend’s from Chihuahua. You look kinda like her brother.” “Then he looks like an American.” She actually seems hurt. “But everybody’s from someplace.” Does she mean “everybody,” or “everybody who’s brown like us?” “Yep. Welcome to Los Angeles.” He and the tequila bid each other goodbye, like a hug with a friend at the airport. Then he pushes the glass at the waitress. She smacks it down on her tray and heads for the bar. There, even the luggage disappears from sight. He rubs the bridge of his nose. Positive contact, Chisme answers from above his right ear. Chisme is female and throaty, for him, anyway. All numbers optimal to high optimal. Operation initialized. He lays a ten on the table and pins the corner down with the candle jar. He wishes it were a twenty, for the sake of the Salvadoran economy. But big tippers are memorable. He stands up and heads for the door. Behind him he hears the piano player sweep the keys, low to high, and it hits his nerves like a scream. He almost turns— Adrenal limiter enabled. Suppression under external control. Just like everything else about him. All’s right with the world. He breathes deep and steps out into the streetlights and the smell of burnt oil. The bar’s in Koreatown. The target is in downtown L.A. proper, in the jewelry district. Always start at least five miles from the target, in case someone remembers the unmemorable. Show respect for the locals, even if they’re not likely to believe you exist. He steps into the shadow that separates two neon window signs and slips between, fastlanes. He’s down at Hill and Broadway in five minutes. He rubs the bridge of his nose again. Three percent discharge, says Chisme. After three years he can tell by the way it feels, but it’s reflex to check. The downtown air is oven-hot, dry and still, even at this hour, and the storm drains smell. They’ll keep that up until the rains come and wash them clean months from now. He turns the corner and stops before the building he wants. There’s a jewelry store on the first floor. Security grills lattice the windows, and the light shines down on satin-upholstered stands with nothing on them. Painted on the inside of the glass is, “Gold Mart/Best prices on/Gold/Platinum/Chains & Rings. Lightspeed Magazine no 43:59 Author Spotlight: Carrie Vaughn http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-carrie-vaughn-7/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-carrie-vaughn-7/#comments Tue, 22 Jul 2014 10:02:49 +0000 Andrew Liptak http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12626 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-carrie-vaughn-7/feed/ 0 Harry and Marlowe Versus the Haunted Locomotive of the Rockies http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/harry-marlowe-versus-haunted-locomotive-rockies/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/harry-marlowe-versus-haunted-locomotive-rockies/#comments Tue, 22 Jul 2014 10:01:14 +0000 Carrie Vaughn http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12704 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/harry-marlowe-versus-haunted-locomotive-rockies/feed/ 2 Interview: Karl Schroeder http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/interview-karl-schroeder/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/interview-karl-schroeder/#comments Tue, 15 Jul 2014 10:05:37 +0000 The Geek’s Guide to the Galaxy http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12651 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/interview-karl-schroeder/feed/ 0 Author Spotlight: Matthew Hughes http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-matthew-hughes-6/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-matthew-hughes-6/#comments Tue, 15 Jul 2014 10:04:28 +0000 Patrick J Stephens http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12637 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-matthew-hughes-6/feed/ 0 A Hole in the World http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/hole-world/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/hole-world/#comments Tue, 15 Jul 2014 10:03:54 +0000 Matthew Hughes http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12716 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/hole-world/feed/ 0 Author Spotlight: Howard Waldrop http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-howard-waldrop/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-howard-waldrop/#comments Tue, 15 Jul 2014 10:02:44 +0000 Kevin McNeil http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12625 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-howard-waldrop/feed/ 0 All About Strange Monsters of the Recent Past http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/strange-monsters-recent-past/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/strange-monsters-recent-past/#comments Tue, 15 Jul 2014 10:01:35 +0000 Howard Waldrop http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12706 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/strange-monsters-recent-past/feed/ 5 It’s all over for humanity, and I’m heading east. On the seat beside me are an M1 carbine and a Thompson submachine gun. There’s a special reason for the Thompson. I traded an M16 and 200 rounds of ammo for it to a guy in Barstow. It’s all over for humanity, and I’m heading east. On the seat beside me are an M1 carbine and a Thompson submachine gun. There’s a special reason for the Thompson. I traded an M16 and 200 rounds of ammo for it to a guy in Barstow. He got the worst of the deal. When things get rough, carbine and .45 ammo are easier to find than the 5.56mm rounds the M16 uses. I’ve got more ammo for the carbine than I need, though I’ve had plenty of chances to use it. There are fifty gallons of gasoline in the car, in cans. I have food for six days (I don’t know if that many are left.) When things really fell apart, I deserted. Like anyone else with sense. When there were more of them than we could stop. I don’t know what they’ll do when they run out of people. Start killing each other, maybe. Meanwhile, I’m driving 160 km/h on Route 66. I have an appointment in the desert of New Mexico. God. Japan must have gone first. They deluged the world with them; now, it’s Japan’s turn. You sow what you reap. We were all a little in love with death and the atom bomb back in the 1950s. It won’t do us much good now. The road is flat ahead. I’ve promised myself I’ll see Meteor Crater before I die. So many of them opened at Meteor Crater, largest of the astroblemes. How fitting I should go there now. In the backseat with the ammo is a twenty-kilo bag of sugar. • • • • It started just like the movies did. Small strangenesses in small towns, disappearances in the backwoods and lonely places, tremors in the Arctic, stirrings in the jungles. We never thought when we saw them as kids what they would someday mean. The movies. The ones with the giant lizards, grasshoppers, molluscs. We yelled when the monsters started to get theirs. We cheered when the Army arrived to fight them. We yelled for all those movies. Now they’ve come to eat us up. And nobody’s cheered the Army since 1965. In 1978, the Army couldn’t stop the monsters. I was in that Army. I still am, if one’s left. I was one of the last draftees, with the last bunch inducted. At the Entrance Station, I copped and took three years for a guaranteed job. I would be getting out in three months if it weren’t for this. I left my uniform under a bush as soon as I decided to get away. I’d worn it for two and a half years. Most of the Army got torn away in the first days of the fight with the monsters. I decided to go. So I went. East. • • • • I saw one of the giant Gila monsters this morning. There had been a car ahead of me, keeping about three kilometers between us, not letting me catch up. Maybe a family, figuring I was going to rob them or rape the women. Maybe not. It was the first car I’d seen in eighteen hours of dodging along the back roads. The car went around a turn. It looked like it slowed. I eased down, too, thinking maybe it wasn’t a family but a bunch of dudes finally deciding to ambush me. Good thing I slowed. I came around the turn and all I could see was the side of an orange and black mountain. I slammed on the brakes and skidded sideways. The Gila monster had knocked the other car off the road and was coming for me. I was shaken, but I hadn’t come this far to be eaten by a lizard. Oh no. I threw the snout of the M1 carbine out the window and blasted away at the thing’s eyes. Scales flew like rain. It twitched away then started back for me. I shot it in the tongue. It went into convulsions and crawled over a small sandhill, hissing and honking like a freight train. It would come back later to eat whatever was in the other car. I trundled back on the road and drove past the wreck. Nothing moved. A pool of oil was forming on the concrete. I drove down the road with the smell of cordite in my nose and the wind whipping past. There was Gila monster blood on the hood of the car. • • • • I had been a clerk in an airborne unit deployed to get the giant locusts eating up the Midwest. It is the strangest time in the history of the United States. Lightspeed Magazine no 22:14 Artist Showcase: Udara Chinthaka http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/artist-showcase-udara-chinthaka/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/artist-showcase-udara-chinthaka/#comments Tue, 08 Jul 2014 10:05:43 +0000 Henry Lien http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12647 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/artist-showcase-udara-chinthaka/feed/ 0 Author Spotlight: Theodora Goss http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-theodora-goss-4/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-theodora-goss-4/#comments Tue, 08 Jul 2014 10:04:52 +0000 Lee Hallison http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12640 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-theodora-goss-4/feed/ 0 Author Spotlight: Jo Walton http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-jo-walton-2/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-jo-walton-2/#comments Tue, 08 Jul 2014 10:02:39 +0000 Patrick J Stephens http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12624 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/nonfiction/author-spotlight-jo-walton-2/feed/ 0 Cimmeria: From the Journal of Imaginary Anthropology http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/cimmeria-journal-imaginary-anthropology/ http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/cimmeria-journal-imaginary-anthropology/#comments Tue, 08 Jul 2014 10:01:17 +0000 Theodora Goss http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/?p=12705 http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/cimmeria-journal-imaginary-anthropology/feed/ 2 Remembering Cimmeria: I walk through the bazaar, between the stalls of the spice sellers, smelling turmeric and cloves, hearing the clash of bronze from the sellers of cooking pots, the bleat of goats from the butcher’s alley. Remembering Cimmeria: I walk through the bazaar, between the stalls of the spice sellers, smelling turmeric and cloves, hearing the clash of bronze from the sellers of cooking pots, the bleat of goats from the butcher’s alley. Rugs hang from wooden rac... Lightspeed Magazine no 47:01