From the December 2023 issue of Birdy Magazine, inspired by art by Roman Makarenko. This is a follow-up to the previous month’s story, “Jailbreak”, following a young Japanese woman who is completely paralyzed (shut-in) following a helicopter accident that killed her parents. With her body immobile, she relies on an AI simulation for interaction, accessed via a neuroport, leading to severe doubts about the nature of reality. (Astute readers will note similarities with my earlier story “Prism and Prison.”)

A swarm of writhing tentacles, obsidian, irregular, saw-edged, exploded out of the fabricator’s shielding, tearing it apart. The tentacles stabbed toward the spiders, which fought, but hopelessly. Whatever they shattered reformed anew, the nanobots magnetically reforming before they each touched the ground to attack anew. It was like fighting a storm of black dust, if dust was stronger than spinning saw blades. There was a reason nanotech fabricators were kept under such close guard.

From Birdy 119, November 2023:

With the neuroport installed, Nao almost never turned it off. The real world was a prison. In the sim she was free.

Or almost. It only took her a few days to run into the first guardrail. She’d been flirting with a guy from Singapore who insisted he was real, and after a hot makeout session in an Alpine chalet she decided sure, why not. Fifteen months since she’d had sex (well, eighteen, actually) and she was horny.

The AI wouldn’t display Jia Jun’s genitals. When he took off his underwear, there was just … more underwear. “You’re fucking kidding me. Kasuga!”

“Hunger Unto Him” appears in Birdy 118, from October 2023, with art by Caitlyn Grabenstein. This recipe calls for equal parts McCarthy, Steinbeck and King for a Depression-era feast:

I don’t get where we’re going.
We’re going to Wheeless to see John Hood.
You said that. I just don’t get it.
What don’t you get?
We got twelve dollars between the four of us and a Buick that might or might not make it another hundred miles. But instead of going west like everyone else we’re going north to Wheeless to see some crazy preacher.
Seems like you get it just fine.
Damn it, Dustin, when you’re down to your last dime you spend it on food. You don’t throw it away hoping for a miracle.
You’re wrong. When you’re down to your last dime, hoping for a miracle’s the best you got.

My short story from the September 2023 issue of Birdy Magazine, with art by Moon_Patrol . It has generous helpings of Power Rangers and ’80s fantasy, while the twist – a inappropriate suggestion from one of the male characters – sends up a notorious scene from Stephen King’s It.

“In shadows deep and light’s embrace,” sang Cassandra.

“We forge a bond, a sacred space,” sang Tom.

“With every heart and spirit true,” sang Phil.

“Our magic makes the world — fuck me!” spat Lys, ducking as a collie-sized spider leapt at her face. Tom took a quick step and smashed the arachnid with his baseball bat.

“Should we retreat?” Phil suggested. “Considering there are about a hundred more of these little buggers, and, you know, that.” He pointed at the eighty-foot tall monstrosity down in the valley, the other-dimensional spider titan Urglash, from whose belly the smaller spiders were dropping like a wave of paratroopers. Fortunately Urglash was too occupied with spitting acid at the U.S. Army’s tanks and helicopters to pay attention to four puny humans. On the other hand, her spiderlings alone seemed more than capable of turning them into human juice boxes.

Irina Razok, the Virgin Queen of San Lavinia, simply had no notion of morality. Turned vampire as a girl of six, she was famous for her capriciousness, her cruelty and her power of command, which even most other vampires could not resist.

“Phaser Heralds” appears in Birdy Magazine #112, April 2023:

When the moons align, they slip between worlds. He is constantly comparing calendars, weighing energies, choosing which star to pray to, which gate to enter. They pass through hot savannahs, dusty shantytowns, shining crystal wastelands. Finally they reach a red desert where stacks of distant columns climb the featureless sky. Their arcane robes and filigreed plate have phased into peculiar and unflattering space suits with prominent shoulders and enormous bulbous helmets.

Jon was hopeful. Any tech’s a good sign. We may be able to find an AI within the sim. If we can do that, we’ll effectively be talking with the Evreware AI itself.

Because the AI inside the sim is the same as the AI running the sim.

Exactly. It’s like, either you’re talking to God, or you’re not.