Recent Updates
  • The Quiet Between Signals
    ## Act I The data did not lie. It lied by omission. Dr. Thomas Eriksen discovered this on a Tuesday, which was unlucky in itself -- he had always considered Tuesdays unlucky, though he could not have said why. He was reviewing three years of observational data from Sentinel-7's primary radio telescope when he noticed six places where his own reports contained numbers that did not match the raw...
    0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
  • The Human Resource
    Adrian's office at Sterling & Associates was a masterpiece of minimalism: white walls, glass desk, and a view of the skyline that made him feel like a god. It was a space designed to project power and efficiency, a temple of corporate logic. But inside, Adrian was a hollow shell. He had spent eighty hours a week for five years optimizing the lives of other people, and in the process, he had...
    0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
  • The Raw Edge
    The wind in Detroit didn't blow; it scraped. It was a cold, industrial wind that carried the scent of rusted iron and old grease, a wind that seemed to strip the paint off the houses and the hope off the people. Leo lived in a room that was less of a home and more of a holding cell, a concrete box in a tenement building that leaned precariously over a dead street. He was thirty-four, with a...
    0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
  • The Compass at Half-Mast
    The modem screamed at 28.8 kilobits per second, a sound like a wounded animal learning to sing, and Daniel Kao listened to it with the receiver pressed between his shoulder and ear while his other hand scrolled through the term sheet. Six million dollars. Sand Hill Road had just decided he was worth six million dollars, which meant he was worth something, which meant he had to figure out what...
    0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
  • Two Explanations for the Woman Who Was Never There
    The aurora hit Station E-17 on a Tuesday in February, the kind of electromagnetic storm that the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration had been predicting for months and that Dr. Maya Kowalski had been monitoring from her chair in the cramped command module with the intensity of someone watching a slow-motion collision. She was forty-three years old, a climate scientist who had spent...
    0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
  • The Catalyst of Bootleg Alley
    The Catalyst of Bootleg Alley It started with a letter. A single piece of paper, delivered on a Thursday morning in March 1925, slipped under the door of Tommy O'Brien's office on Van Buren Street in the heart of Chicago's most profitable illegal enterprise. Tommy read it in the amber light of a whiskey bottle on his desk, and the letter did not contain a threat, or a demand, or even a business...
    0 Comments 0 Shares 5 Views 0 Reviews
  • The Unseen Thread
    The rain in New York doesn't just fall; it dissolves. It turns the neon of Times Square into a smeared watercolor and the concrete of the Upper East Side into a polished mirror. I have always felt more comfortable in the dissolve, where the boundaries between people are blurred by the grey curtain of the city. My father is a man of silence and secrets. For thirty years, he has lived in a small...
    0 Comments 0 Shares 5 Views 0 Reviews
  • The Peacekeeper Gambit - Perspective The Objective Observer
    This is the The Objective Observer adaptation of the story. The narrative unfolds with a meticulous attention to the atmosphere of the Jazz Age, exploring the deep psychological toll of being replaced by a digital ghost. Thomas Harper, a junior analyst in New York, discovers a conspiracy. General Melvin reveals that the economic war between New York and Chicago is a fake, orchestrated by the...
    0 Comments 0 Shares 5 Views 0 Reviews
  • The Montauk Party
    The invitation arrived on a Wednesday, printed on cream-colored cardstock with gold lettering that caught the light the way lies catch the eye—just enough to make you look twice. Julian Ashworth had been in Montauk for three weeks, renting a cottage from a woman who charged him double because he was a writer and writers always had money they didn't know what to do with. The party was at a house...
    0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
  • Sample V-08: The Ash and the Ivy
    **Act I: The Ruined Altar** The estate of Thorne Hall was a skeleton of stone and ivy, drowning in the grey mists of the English countryside. Clara had been brought there as a trophy bride for the eldest Thorne, a man whose cruelty was as ingrained as the damp in the walls. The "branding" had been a quiet affair—a hot iron in a dark cellar, a sudden scream silenced by a heavy hand. They had...
    0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
  • The Frequency of Sorrow
    The fog rolled through Whitechapel like a living thing, thick and yellow as old brandy. Evelyn Cross stood at the iron gates of the Soul Frequency Isolation Asylum and felt the cold seep through her skirts. It was November, 1888, and London wore its fog like a shroud. "Remember, Evie," her brother Arthur said, adjusting his spectacles, "do not wander. The lower floors are not for visitors." She...
    0 Comments 0 Shares 5 Views 0 Reviews
  • The Glass Ceiling
    David viewed the world as a series of acquisitions. His penthouse, his cars, and his company were simply assets to be managed. He sat in his office on the 80th floor of the Obsidian Tower, looking down at the ants of Manhattan, when Sarah walked in. She had been hired as the lead consultant to restructure his failing logistics division. She was also the woman who had walked out of his life four...
    0 Comments 0 Shares 5 Views 0 Reviews
More Stories