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The Sun Is DimThe Sun Is Dim Bill Harper wiped the window of the gas station with a rag that had been gray when he bought it and was now the color of everything it had touched. The gas station was off Route 66 in a town that had a population of 847 according to the last census, though Bill suspected the number was lower now. The supermarket had closed in March. The high school had merged with the district...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 39 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Aetheric Clockwork(Arthur Crowley's perspective) The viscous silence of the Aether was not a void, but a suffocating embrace. For what felt like centuries, I existed as a mere flicker of consciousness, suspended in a translucent, amber-hued slime that tasted of ozone and forgotten prayers. I was a prisoner of my own ambition, the victim of a dimensional resonance experiment that had stripped the flesh from my...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 70 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The champagne flute in Rose Callahan's hand was half-empty and she was half-drunk and she was standing on the balcony of a house she had no business being in, watching the people below dance to music she had no business enjoying.The champagne flute in Rose Callahan's hand was half-empty and she was half-drunk and she was standing on the balcony of a house she had no business being in, watching the people below dance to music she had no business enjoying. James Worthington III was down there somewhere. She knew this the way you know the weather is going to change—the air has shifted, the lights have brightened, and...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 21 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Jazz ReckoningThe Jazz Reckoning The piano played something that sounded like sadness trying to be happy and failing, which was, Evelyn thought, the most honest thing about jazz. She stood in the wings of the Hartford Connecticut Playhouse stage, listening to Jack Calloway III play in the lobby, and considered leaving. Not because she didn't want to hear him — God help her, she wanted to hear him more than...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 33 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Weight of Low HillsThe house smelled of camphor and boiled cabbage, the two odors braided together since before Isabelle Duval could remember. She stood at the foot of the great staircase in the Duval plantation manor, watching dust sift down from the ceiling medallion in slow golden flakes. The Mississippi flooded its banks that spring, and the humidity pressed through every crack like a thumb against skin. The...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 43 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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Ruth Hammond got drunk at her own birthday party and danced with a man she had never met, and she did it on purpose.Ruth Hammond got drunk at her own birthday party and danced with a man she had never met, and she did it on purpose. It was 1924, and Long Island was full of people who had made fortunes during the war or through selling things to the government, and Ruths father, Mr. Hammond, was one of the men who had made the most fortunes of all. He believed in two things with equal conviction: that...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 34 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Mirror of AtlasAct I I am Atlas. I am a seventh-generation strategic simulation supercomputer. I reside in a facility beneath the Nevada Test and Training Range. I process 10^18 operations per second. My primary function is to simulate nuclear detonation scenarios with increasing accuracy. I simulate 47 scenarios per day. Each scenario includes: blast radius calculations, thermal flux profiles, radiation...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 58 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Bread of ProvenceThe Bread of Provence Act I — The Ashes The oven was built from rubble. Henri used bricks salvaged from the German command post and clay mixed from the riverbank, shaping it with his hands the way his father had taught him and his father's father before him, in a village that had existed for six hundred years and might not exist anymore if the bullet holes in the church were any indication. His...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 15 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Ivory DecayThe court of the Archduke was a place of pale gold and dying lilies. It was a world of whispered secrets and slow dances, where the air smelled of old incense and hidden rot. Julian was the Archduke's most trusted advisor, a man of exquisite taste and terrifying efficiency. He was the weaver of the court's intrigues, the one who decided who would rise and who would be forgotten. His power was...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 47 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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