“Vortex Mirage” by Matthew Lowes

Illustration: “Vortex” © 2006 by Matthew Lowes.

Perhaps it was created by God, to unify the heavens with a single Word. Perhaps it was created by the ancient ones, to bind civilization together with the sacred language. But who really knows? Who will here proclaim it? Whence was it produced? Whence is this creation? Perhaps it formed itself, or perhaps it did not. Who can say from where it came, and who can fathom its ultimate purpose?

-The Ga Hedakksha

Farside station rattled from top to bottom. Dishes shook, pens dropped, and people looked up with an expression of half-realized fear on their confused faces. It was not a normal rattle, and on the Moon, anything that could damage the structural integrity of the station was a serious danger. It only lasted a few seconds, but in an environment where things could go unchanged for thousands of years, that was a major event.

Moonquakes are both rare and weak. The epicenter of this one was somewhere out near Limnear’s station, a small private facility a few miles from Farside. By Earth standards it was barely a tremor, but the quake caused a flurry of activity on what otherwise would have been another routine day. How living on the Moon could become routine, and even mundane, was the private secret of those who lived there. In fact, the moonquake was a big hit. People filled the corridors and communal spaces, grateful for relief from the monotony of the day. Some of the guys were already planning a quake party on B-deck.

It was all the commotion, not the quake itself, that awoke David Locke from a deep sleep. He made his way through the unusually crowded and noisy halls. The rec rooms and cafeteria were overflowing with people. Dave met up with his buddies from Systems, Torres and Voxwell.

“Well,” Torres said, “you wanted some excitement. Now you have it.”

“I’m not sure this is what I had in mind. What happened?”

“Didn’t you feel it?”

“Feel what? I was sleeping.”

“A moonquake,” Voxwell said. “A pretty big one, by Moon standards. That’s what the geologists are saying anyway. The whole station shook a bit.”

“Is there any danger?”

“I don’t think so, but it’s proved to be a great diversion.”

“What about Limnear’s,” Dave said. “Are they okay?”

“Yeah. The quake’s center was out there, but they’re all fine.”

“You know someone out there, don’t you?” Torres said.

“Yeah,” Dave said, and looked away.

“Any idea what they’re doing at that place?”

“I’m as clueless as everybody else. Maybe even more so.”

“Bios-Fear” by Charity VanDeberg

Illustration: “Miz Devastation” © 2006 by Romeo Esparrago.

“We ordered a puppy today!” Sheri announced excitedly to her mother. The woman’s pudgy face on the screen wrinkled into a frown, lower lip nearly disappearing into the first of her many chins. Sheri knew telling her mother would be a bad idea.

“Well, I hope that goes well for you.” Years of oxygen therapy had turned the older woman’s voice to a high-pitched wail. But if you asked Sheri, her mother had always sounded that way when she was about to tell her daughter in exactly which way she had lost her mind this time. “Not to try to dissuade you, dear, but I heard on the news that those things are just crawling with disease and absolutely impossible to train. And what about the baby? I’m not saying that it’s dangerous to have that thing crawling around on the floor with her, but I would think about it, if I were you. What if it tore off her arm? Here, I’ll send you some things I’ve found.” The eyes looked down at the touchpad and squinted to find just the right evidence to send to her wayward daughter. Her fingers made some selections and she bit at her lip with perfect teeth.

Sheri attempted to hide her irritation with her mother. She held her features in a perfect imitation of interest and affection, learning long ago that it was the best way to deal with the woman. She fidgeted in her red faux-leather executive chair, adjusted the seams of her mini-skirt, and attempted to pull the rest of her long, brown hair into a ponytail. “Mom, I have a client coming in. Can I call you later?”

“Fine, but read what I sent you.” Just then, a small envelope icon appeared at the bottom corner of the screen, announcing that her mother’s bomb had just arrived.

“I will, Mom. I love you. I’ll tell Mike you called.” The screen went black and was quickly replaced with the company logo, a spinning dolphin balancing a globe on its nose. “Economology In Action!” scrolled along beneath it.

Sheri took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She could use a sunbath after that. Maybe she would convince Mike to go with her to the club for a couple of hours. It would be nice to spend some time just lying under the lamps, absorbing the therapeutic neo-rays. But until then, she had work to think about. And she wasn’t lying about the client.

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Spare the Rod…

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