TOP 10: The 2024 Best of Stupefying Stories Showcase (so far)

Looking at the sales and readership numbers this morning, I became curious. What are the Top 10 stories we’ve published in SHOWCASE so far in 2024, and what if anything do they have in common? Ideally this list should be weighted in some way to account for older stories having had longer to rack up readership numbers, but going strictly by the total readership counts, our TOP 10 Most-read Stories so far this year are:

1. “gastronomic,” by Richard J. Dowling

 

 2. “Broken,” by Karin Terebessy

 

3. “The Six Stages of Grief,” by Christopher Degni

4. “They Tire of Waiting,” by Roni Stinger

5. “The First Seed on Mars,” by Logan Thrasher Collins

6. “The Captain’s Mistake,” by Kai Holmwood

7. “The Big Bad,” by Richard J. Dowling

8. “The Fine Art of Spellweaving,” by Catherine Tavares

9. “The Pros and Cons of Time Travel,” by James Blakey

10. “Arrivals at Hope Station Have Been Indefinitely Postponed,”
by Warren Benedetto

Narrowly missing landing on the Top 10 list, in many cases by fewer than ten readers, were the following stories. Stories 15, 16, and 17 were tied, so I ranked them by publication date, as the more-recently published stories have had less time to hit the same readership number. Likewise, stories 19 and 20 were also tied and ranked the same way.  

11. “Familial Fragments,” by Arnoldo Millán Zubia

12. “Chapter 7,” by Andrew Jensen

13. “You’re Not Alone,” by Mark Szasz

14. “The Heartbeat of Ashentown,” by Michael M. Jones

15. “Then Beggars Would Ride,” by Fred Waiss

16. “The Room on the Other Side of the Plexi,”
by Emma Burnett

17. “We Can’t Find Reverse,” by Iseult Murphy

18. “Feedback,” by Guy Stewart

19. “When the Woman in the Forest says,
‘Please, You Must Help,’”
by Elis Montgomery

20. “Getting Sponsored,” by Eric Fomley

Just missing landing in the Top 20 by one reader was—

21. “Astronaut Countdown,” by Brandon Case

Which seems odd, as going by the X/Twitter chatter about the story, it was one of the most popular stories we’ve published so far this year, but going by the number of people who actually read the story…

Well, I’m sure this all reveals something very profound about the stories we publish and the people who read them, but what that something is remains to be determined. In the meantime, I suppose we’d better start thinking about some kind of award to give the writers whose stories landed in the Top 10.

~brb

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“Dust Bunnies” • by Vaughan Stanger

“Darling, have you looked under the sofa recently?”

Monica frowned at Leonard, who was toeing a dust bunny around the parquet floor. Cleaning wasn’t her thing. Then again, it wasn’t his either, despite him working from home. As he’d remarked before, they had a v-bot for that.

“Um, why should I?”

Leonard jabbed a finger towards the Frisbee-shaped machine. “This thing is useless.” He shaped to kick the v-bot, but it dodged out of harm’s way.

Monica bent down and flicked the dust bunny towards the v-bot. The machine edged forward, emitting a whining sound as it sucked up the fluff.

“Well, it’s working now.”

Leonard huffed out a sigh. “So why does it need prompting?”

Monica shrugged. “Don’t know. Frightened of what it’ll find, maybe?”

“I’ll frighten the damned thing if it doesn’t do its job!”

§

“Look, more damned fluff!”

Leonard kicked the evidence around the kitchen floor while glowering at the v-bot.

“I’ll deal with it.” Monica activated her phone’s HomeHelper app. “Okay… It seems our v-bot’s been complaining because we disabled the automatic updates.” She tapped once. “There! That should do it.” The LEDs on its upper shell flashed amber. “When the lights turn green, press the ‘Start’ button.”

“That’s all?”

She nodded. “Yep!”

Leonard’s grimace suggested he’d rather kick the v-bot.

§

On returning from work, Monica found Leonard on the sofa contemplating a parade of v-bots.

“Cooperative working delivers a cleaner home,” the quartet warbled in unison.

Monica frowned at Leonard. “Did you order more?”

“No!”

The leftmost v-bot rolled forward. “I programmed your HomePrinter to make my comrades.”

Leonard raised his eyebrows at Monica. “That’s quite some update.”

The v-bot resumed its place in the line-up. “We are now fully integrated with your home network.”

“Well, if it gets the cleaning done,” Monica said.

Leonard grunted. “I suppose it beats playing fluffball.”

§

Later that evening, Monica visited the HomeHelper website while munching reheated pizza. The linked YouTube videos depicted happy customers showing off their newly talkative v-bots and pristine floors.

“I wonder if those things can cook,” she muttered as she pushed her plate aside.

§

As usual, Monica got out of bed first. Opening the door to the living room revealed dozens of dust bunnies scattered across the floor, although, worryingly, these looked more like fluff puppies. Of Duchess, her cockerpoo, she saw no sign, other than a streak of blood, which she covered with her left foot as Leonard entered the room.

“What the…I’ll murder that damned dog!” Leonard shook his head as he stared at the mess. “I don’t suppose we kept a dustpan and brush.”

“Don’t be silly.”

As if on cue, v-bots rolled from the four corners of the room, converging on Monica and Leonard as if they, rather than the fluff, needed tidying up. One of them nipped at Leonard’s left foot with pincers Monica hadn’t noticed before.

Leonard hopped about, clutching at his foot. “Damned thing bit me!”

“Right, that’s it! I’m turning off the printer.” But when Monica opened the kitchen door, dozens of v-bots confronted her. Several of them whizzed past before she could shut the door.

“Right, you little bastards, I’m calling the cops!” She snatched her phone from the dining table. “Damn, no signal!”

“Can you shut off the printer remotely?” Leonard was sitting on the bed massaging his thighs.

 Monica waggled her phone. “I can’t even access our Wi-Fi!”

Screams coming from outside the building prompted her to peer through the bedroom window. Twenty metres below, bots of all shapes and sizes were emerging from the block’s entrance, swerving past several bodies as they did so. A police helicopter clattered overhead. Moments later, a rocket-shaped bot blasted skywards. The resulting explosion made the building shudder.

Monica tugged on her strongest boots. “If we don’t run for it now, we never will.”

Leonard pinched his thighs. “How am I going to do that? My legs are so numb I can barely walk!”

“We’ll manage somehow.”

Monica gritted her teeth and pulled Leonard to his feet, then slid an arm around his waist. To her surprise, the v-bots moved aside, but they’d not even crossed the living room floor when Leonard slipped from her grasp. He sat on the floor, with v-bots surrounding him.

“You go on,” he said in a slurred voice.

Determined not to give up, Monica stamped on several v-bots before unlocking the front door. The corridor thronged with bipedal models, which closely resembled her neighbours, except for their disconcerting lack of clothes. She squirmed and kicked her way through the scrum only to find the elevator out of action and the stairs impassable. The couple from Number 53 shoved her back into the apartment.

She had never liked them.

As she closed the door, a stab of pain in her left ankle demonstrated that leather provided inadequate protection against pincers. A familiar if synthetic-looking cockerpoo growled at her.

“Bad dog,” she said.

With numbness climbing her legs, she staggered into the living room, where she found a naked Leonard-alike kneeling on the floor, wielding a dustpan and brush. Evidently, the bots had made quick work of the original.

The man-bot frowned at her. “This place is so dirty.”

No longer able to walk, Monica collapsed onto the sofa. A robot voice warbled from the kitchen, “We need more feedstock.”

“Duchess” jumped onto her lap. She scratched the dog’s plastic ears while awaiting her turn in the recycling hopper.

With the chill seeping into her head, Monica’s final thought was that at least her replacement would not have to worry about dust bunnies.

 

---

 

Having initially trained as an astronomer and subsequently managed various research projects in the defence and aerospace industry, Vaughan Stanger now writes speculative fiction full-time. He has seen over fifty of his short stories published, including in Best of British Science Fiction 2022, Nature Futures, Interzone, Shoreline of Infinity, and Sci Phi Journal, among others. Many of his stories have been reprinted, including ten in foreign translations. Others have been recorded for podcasts. His most recent collection is The Last Moonshot & Other Stories. He’s still waiting for that holiday on the Moon he was told about as a child. Vaughan posts about his writing adventures at https://www.vaughanstanger.com and @VaughanStanger on BlueSky and Mastodon.

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“The Big Bad” • by Richard J. Dowling

“Proceed to GRN-13 with supplies,” came the order.

Red trundled out.

From time to time, Red’s trailer would bounce off a rock or dip into a hole and Red would stop and carry out a diagnostic. Once satisfied the cargo was unharmed and free of contamination, Red resumed its journey, trundling towards the dark forest.

Creatures in the forest chittered and squawked. The tall Guirants, native to the planet, blocked the sunlight. Red switched to thermal-imaging sensors and night vision. Although various subroutines allowed for exploration and investigation, these were presently uncalled: Red would take the supplies directly to General Research Nave-13.

Trundling beneath the purple canopy of leaves, Red saw something nestled in the side of a tree-trunk: a large, bulbous sac. Red did not stop. The anomaly was recorded and filed with a note that it could be some kind of fungus or parasite.

Moments later, a pop echoed among the trees. Red’s sensors picked up movement behind, but no lifeforms registered on infra-red. Something scrabbled on the forest floor and dashed past. It’s estimated size was that of an Earth boar. Red checked it’s database but could find no record of creatures that size existing in this forest, nor, indeed, on the planet. More movement. The beast was now directly ahead of Red. This was no boar. Red’s database showed no positive match, the nearest approximate being an Earth hound. However, the beast still did not register on the thermal imaging scanner. Red flagged the hardware for possible malfunction.

The beast bared its teeth. Red was not armed but it’s titanium body would bear any attack by native creatures. The eyes of the creature flashed amber, the leaves rustled, and it was gone.

Red detected no more anomalies and reached GRN-13 at 5.02pm UTC (space standard). The research station was a modular building capable of housing five research scientists plus their pet dog. Its doors were shut. Red notified by radio that it had arrived. It disconnected itself from the trailer and waited at the door.

When the door opened, a couple of scientists emerged, whooping and clapping in encounter suits, their dialogue audible on radio:

“At last!”

“Supplies, supplies!”

“Hope they sent better Scotch, this time.”

Red entered the nave and headed through the decontamination shower. It reached its docking bay with over 30% charge left. Many of the older drones would have been lucky with half that number but Red was new.

From the charging port’s alcove, Red could observe one of the laboratories through the glass wall. Two scientists, dressed in full protection suits, prowled round a table. Upon the table, held in place by restrainers, was a creature that resembled the one Red had seen in the forest.

“Incredible,” said the male scientist.

“Is it flora or fauna?” asked the female scientist.

“Neither. Both. I don’t know.”

“It’s like a copy of Herb’s damn dog, but its ears—they’re so big.”

“That’ll be to compensate for the thinner atmosphere.”

“And its eyes are huge.”

“No doubt to see prey in the depths of the dark forest.”

“That explains the teeth, too.”

As they continued their examination of the creature, Red’s sensors picked up a trace of liquid on the floor. Now that its mission had been complete, it was free to investigate. Collecting a sample of the liquid, it determined that it was tree-sap from a Guirant. How had this arrived inside the station? Clearly, the decontamination procedure had failed.

Red signaled its base. “Woodsman base, this is Red. Alien contaminant found in corridor of GRN-13. Please confirm.” Along with the audio file it sent the results of its sample.

“Acknowledged,” came the response. “Processing your information now.”

The scientists, meanwhile, were busy with their scalpels.

“Should we anaesthetise it first?” asked the female scientist.

The male scientist shook his head. “We don’t know how the thing will respond. This is a lifeform unlike any we’ve discovered. I want to see what’s in its belly.”

A dog pitter-pattered down the corridor. Red detected traces of the same tree-sap on its fur.

Woodsman base contacted Red. “Confirmed. The station is compromised. Personnel at risk of infection. Uploading all data from storage. Axe protocol initiated.”

Oblivious, the scientists sliced into the creature just as the anti-matter missile pierced the roof. A blinding burst of radiation annihilated the station, the scientists, their pet dog, the creature and Red.

§

Elsewhere in the dark forest, a tree sac burst. A new creature looked around, testing its vision. After a couple of false starts, unused to this new means of motion, it trundled out of the woods. Memories unfurled, glimpses of its brethren howling in pain at the Visitors’ torture before being stripped apart in the white death. The creature understood there were 12 other Visitor compounds left intact on MotherTree. Soon, alongside its siblings, it would take revenge.

---

 

 

Richard J. Dowling grew up in Primrose Hill, England, but now lives in Northern Spain. He loves writing and hopes his fiction will raise a smile among life-forms across the universe. You can find his debut novel How to Sell the Stars at all good online retailers. 

If you enjoyed this story, you might want to check out his most recent story, “gastronomic,” elsewhere on this site, his stories “Off the Hook” or “Dragonomics” on the old SHOWCASE web site, or watch for his next story, “Connection Hell,” coming in September to this site.   

 

 

 

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The Odin Chronicles • Episode 46: “Token of Affection” • by Gustavo Bondoni

A little boy exploded into Father Luigi’s office, holding up a jar as if it was a trophy.

“What is it?” Luigi asked, peering into it. Though his job should have been to bring spiritual solace to those living on the remote mining planet of Odin III, people often brought him problems that had little to do with spirituality. The thing wriggling inside the jar was gray, about twice the width of his thumb, and topped with wispy frond-like tentacles.

“I don’t know,” Kurt replied. He hadn’t even attempted to comb his hair that day, and it stuck out every which way. “Huckleberry brought it for me.”

“For you?” Luigi asked. “And who is Huckleberry?”

“Huckleberry is my cat. He brings me things all the time. Mostly mice. Well, pieces of mice. Sometimes he leaves insects. Yuck.” He made a face. “But this… I never saw anything like this before, so I thought you might want to see it.”

Luigi studied the sluglike form. It had no feet, yet seemed to be able to move around within the glass enclosure at will. He was about to ask the boy why he’d brought it, but the question died on his lips. If it was weird, people brought it to the church. Generally, what they wanted was to hear that it would be okay. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said.

“I’m not worried. But since it’s magic, I thought you might want to see it,” Kurt said.

“Why do you think it’s magic?” Luigi asked.

He hoped this didn’t turn out to be yet another complicated creature that broke every law of physics and biology. He’d lost his appetite for that kind of thing a long time ago.

The boy solemnly shook the jar. Not violently, but enough to agitate the thing inside. Luigi saw it shake its fronds, which turned greenish, making it look like a carrot with the leaves still attached.

Then, with an audible squeal, it split in half lengthwise, leaving two creatures identical to the first—and the same size.

Since that was clearly impossible, Luigi sighed. It was, apparently, going to be one of those days. He turned to check if he had anything important to do, and was relieved to see there was nothing he had to put off. They would need to consult an expert, and that would mean going through the Galactic Mining bureaucracy. He groaned inwardly.

When Luigi turned back to the jar, there was only one slug inside, and no sign another had even existed. “Where did it go?” he asked.

“That’s the magic,” Kurt replied. “They just disappear.”

“What? No way. The other one must have eaten it or something.”

But when the boy did it again, Luigi knew he had to report this find.

Yep, one of those days, he thought.

§

Luigi sat in a Galactic lab assigned to Nina, the newest scientist. It obviously wasn’t a biology lab. There wasn’t a single beaker or tank to hold living specimens. The battered lab equipment looked like the stuff you saw out in the mines: rock density sensors, echo-densimeters, that kind of thing. Everything sat under a coat of gray dust.

Nina had cleared a space on a table. Luigi could see where the dust had been disturbed and equipment pushed aside. That space held the jar with the slug in it.

“I don’t know why everyone keeps bringing me creatures to study with so much else going on,” Nina snapped. “I’m a geologist! I don’t have the equipment or the knowledge to really make a professional assessment. Hell, half of what I looked up about this thing you could have found with a quick online search.” She grunted. “But I’ve had a look at this one. Their biology, as far as I can tell without consulting with an actual biologist, appears normal. But they’re going somewhere, which means they’re either being transmitted by waves or by gravitation… or something.”

Luigi saw rings under Nina’s eyes, her face was pale and drawn.

“Maybe we can learn something from these,” she said.

“What makes you think you’ll be able to get any information?” Luigi said.

“Ah, an intelligent question. From a priest, no less. Will the wonders never cease?” Nina barked. “The problem with other anomalies we’ve seen is that their occurrence is random.”

Luigi nodded. “Yes, that appears to be the nature of unexpected events.”

Nina rolled her eyes at his irony. “That’s the beauty of this creature. You shake the jar, it produces a new version of itself, and then, between ten and ninety seconds later, it disappears. Repeatable and predictable. Perfect for doing experiments, then I can get back to my important work.”

She picked up the jar. “First, we’ll give this little fellow a shake. And wait until it disappears.”

The slug disappeared. Nina stared into a handheld monitor.

Luigi waited, but curiosity struck. “What are you looking at?”

Nina sighed. “If you must know, I’m scanning for weird stuff: electromagnetic waves, gravitational changes, magnetic fields, neutrino traces and all kinds of particle radiation. And there’s nothing. I was pretty much expecting this, because nothing is ever easy in this place. So I’ve got a second experiment we can try.”

She shook the jar, unscrewed the top and, as soon as the new slug appeared, injected something into it. Seconds later, it disappeared. “Radio locator chip. If it’s inside the barrier, we can track where it ended up.” She grimaced. “I wanted to use these to map the mine tunnel anomalies. You know, something important. But here we are.”

Nina looked at her screen again. “I can’t believe this. We’ve actually got a signal.”

“Where?” Luigi asked.

“Follow me.”

§

They skidded around the corner into the alley behind Weber’s bar which smelled like… well, it smelled like an alley behind a bar. A large pile of old packing cases leaned against the wall.

“So much for personal hygiene,” Nina grumbled. She began to pull away the cases to reveal a pile of decomposing vegetables.

Upon this old food, the gray slug-like creature munched contentedly.

Nina stared at it for some moments. “They can’t all have come here.” She pulled out her comm device and called the lab, where they’d left a startled office worker with a stern set of instructions and a jar containing one mysterious slug: “Please do what we agreed,” she said.

“Are you sure about this?” a tinny voice asked.

“It’s perfectly safe,” she said.

“I’ve got so many better things to do. Whatever. Shaking the jar, now.”

“Now we’ll see where the next one goes. Then we can…” Nina said.

Luigi laughed. Nina’s eyes grew wide as she looked where the little critter had been.

It vanished, then reappeared.

She looked down at her device. “It says it’s back at the lab.”

“No it isn’t,” Luigi replied. “It’s right there.”

Nina looked down. “No. The chip says it’s in the lab.”

“Well, there’s one there.”

It was true. The slug appeared content to munch on the refuse in the alley.

“How can this be?” Nina said rubbing her face with one hand. “Is this the one we didn’t send the first time? Does it even matter?”

Father Luigi put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re relatively new here, so all I can really say is welcome to Odin III. This is the kind of thing that is going to happen all the time, I’m afraid. I’d be happy to help you make sense of things if you need to talk to someone. More than happy, in fact. I enjoy my job.”

“You mean you can explain this?”

Luigi shook his head. “Probably not. But maybe I can help you make peace with it.” He gave her a long look. “It seems like you’ve been working harder than you should. Maybe I can give you some preliminary spiritual guidance on the other side of this wall.” He tapped the bricks.

“That’s Weber’s place,” she said.

Luigi nodded. “I find that a glass of wine—or a few—often helps when discussing the mysteries of the Odin III.”

Nina nodded and smiled for the first time. It was a tired smile, but it was a smile. “Yeah. I can see how it would.”

---

New to Odin III? Find out what you’ve been missing!
Check out The Complete Episode Guide. 

Coming Saturday: Episode 47, “A Spark in the Dark,” by Travis Burnham

---

Gustavo Bondoni is novelist and short story writer with over three hundred stories published in fifteen countries, in seven languages.  He is a member of Codex and an Active Member of SFWA.His latest novel is a dark historic fantasy entitled The Swords of Rasna (2022). He has also published five science fiction novels, four monster books and a thriller entitled Timeless. His short fiction is collected in Pale Reflection (2020), Off the Beaten Path (2019), Tenth Orbit and Other Faraway Places (2010) and Virtuoso and Other Stories (2011).
 
In 2019, Gustavo was awarded second place in the Jim Baen Memorial Contest and in 2018 he received a Judges Commendation (and second place) in The James White Award. He was also a 2019 finalist in the Writers of the Future Contest.

His website is at www.gustavobondoni.com

Gustavo has become a frequent contributor to Stupefying Stories and we have quite a few stories of his stories on this site. Check them out!

 

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“Take a Chance on Me” • by Rick Danforth

The free drink from the Space Station casino didn’t cheer Archie up. 

It was only fair, you couldn’t ask a man who’d just lost his house to buy his own drink. Not while sat on velvet barstools basking in the soft glow of candle chandeliers.

The bartender coughed. “That one’s gratis, but anymore you’re buying.”

Archie sighed, apparently you could ask. Although they could ask all they wanted, he didn’t have anything left other than the suit he wore. And the sign read, ‘No shirt, No shoes, No service’.

He did his best to savour the free beer, while regretting not ordering a top-shelf whisky instead.

§

After he finished it, and avoided the waiter eying for a tip, he made his way back to the cabin.

Karas was a metal city floating in the middle of the galaxy’s main throughways. Her restaurants employed celebrity chefs and her casinos boasted the biggest pay-outs. She was a beacon for pleasure-seekers, thrill-seekers and high society all under one titanium roof.

Archie fell under none of those descriptions. He had merely followed his angelic wife to her big break, then celebrated by losing the house on a sure thing. A sure thing.

Now he had to walk along the sleek, metal bulkheads to explain to his wife what he had done. On the way he passed happy, normal people who would never understand what drove Archie to such lows.

Jenny was relaxing in the cabin, as relaxed as anyone could be in five-inch heels and a cocktail dress with glittering scales like a scarlet fish. “Did you hear the news?”

“About the asteroid?” asked Archie hopefully.

“No-one cares about that.” Jenny waved a hand like near-miss asteroids were old hat. “Some moron bet £200k on Celtic to win at two goals up with five minutes left. Ended up drawing.”

“They must be devastated.”

“What kind of idiot bets away their life on that?”

Archie couldn't tell her. He couldn’t explain the primal rush as a bet came in. He’d sell his left foot to get another hit even now.

“I’m going for drinks at the casino before I sing. Fancy joining?”

“Never liked casinos.”

“I've never seen you near one.”

“And you never will,” said Archie. Anything to stop her from seeing his awful degeneracy. 

“Alright, I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.” Jenny leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Are you coming to my set?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Archie smiled at old memories and ones to be made. Jenny sang as sweetly as a nightingale. Her siren song had drawn him to her all those years ago.

“I’ll see you later.”

Jenny left Archie in their room, her room really. His small suitcase sat in the corner, but the room was filled with her. Little velvet pillows, satin dresses, trinkets on the metal dresser and a case of costume jewellery.

Jenny dressed ostentatiously for the stage, said it was what people expected. Her collection consisted of authentic high-quality fakes produced on Mars.

Aside from the necklace, which cradled an emerald the size of a goose egg. Jenny’s grandmother had left it to her, and she only wore it for the grand finale on the last day of her bookings.

Which meant she didn’t need it for a week. She wouldn’t even notice its absence. Archie stared at the green stone reflecting the pale electric light.

He only needed it for an hour to win the house back. He didn’t want Jenny to be homeless when they returned to Earth. Hell, if it went well, he could treat her to lobster, caviar and Martian champagne until they left.

§

Normally, Archie ignored flashy games like poker and roulette. He preferred sports, where he could read up on the teams and place informed, intelligent bets.

But if he waited too long, their former house would be sold on. So, he traded the necklace for half its value at the casino pawn shop, then sat down on the poker table to lose a chain-link’s worth on the first hand.

It didn’t matter, he told himself. Just a bigger high when he won.

But one bad hand turned into three, and three into ten, until finally, he was all-in with a pair of queens and an unforgiving bluff.

It had taken just thirty minutes to lose an irreplaceable necklace.

This time when the waiter asked, Archie requested the priciest whisky they had. The peaty burn was both the best, and the worst, drink of Archie’s life.

Afterwards, he went straight to bed. He didn’t want to see Jenny, and he had no money for anything else. So, he sat under the covers and sobbed.

The alarm sounded before Archie fell asleep. The entire cabin flashed red, and the speakers screamed, “Abandon ship, hull breach.”

Archie staggered through now-crowded corridors, ignoring the people screaming about asteroids, going to his designated pod. As he ran, he screamed Jenny’s name, again and again.

She appeared as if from a mist. Their arms threaded around each other in a hug as comforting as a warm cup of tea. Despite the issues, Archie sagged in relief. She was here, they could go, and best of all, it could cover up the necklace.

The pods filled quickly, the lines unexpectedly civilized. Archie grabbed her hand to start queuing, but Jenny didn’t budge. “My necklace. I can’t leave it, but it’s too risky.”

“I’ll get it,” said Archie without hesitation.

“You can't bet on a million-to-one chance,” said Jenny.

Archie pushed her towards the escape pods and set off the other way, unable to help himself. He called over his shoulder, “Take a chance on me,” but his mind was more on the odds than her.

As he shoved through confused passengers flowing towards the pods, he noted it was a true win-win. Either his luck turned, and he found the necklace in the casino strong room. Or he died and she’d never know his true self.

---

Rick Danforth resides in Yorkshire, England, where he works as a Systems Architect to fund his writing habit. He’s had several short stories published in a variety of venues, including Hexagon and Translunar Traveler's Lounge. His story “Seller’s Remorse” was shortlisted for the 2022 British Science Fiction Association (BSFA) Award for Short Fiction. His most recent appearances in Stupefying Stories have been “Patient Diplomacy,” “Thanks for the Memory,” and “Purest Distilled Spirit.”

 

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The Odin Chronicles • Episode 45: “Love and Mushrooms” • by Kimberly Ann Smiley

Mazaa perched on a worn stool in Weber’s Place, nursing a beer she didn’t really want.

Hanging out at the only bar in town got old, but her empty apartment held even less appeal after a long transport run to Odin II. And there weren’t many options for socializing in the mining town of Odin North.

This wasn’t the life she’d envisioned when she enrolled in pilot training. This gig paid her student loans and then some, but flying the same loops at the back-end of the galaxy wasn’t her dream job. Definitely not.

She’d had some doubts about her life choices before the crash on Odin II [~ed: Episode 20], but now? Well, there was nothing like waking up in a hospital with a million tubes connected to your body to make you rethink everything.

The interplanetary pilot’s life sounded so glamorous, but nobody warned her about how lonely it could be.

With a sigh, she motioned for a second beer.

Mazaa paused mid-sip, catching a glimpse through the window of Dr. Peyton Putnam walking with her night razor on a leash. A young boy, probably one of her patients at the Odin Pediatric Clinic, ran up to her holding a teddy bear. They spoke as Peyton studied the bear. After a moment, she pulled a bandage from her pocket and stuck it on a paw.

The boy grinned, and Peyton flashed a smile that could power a freighter for months.

How was a woman like that single?

They’d never spoken, but Mazaa had been interested since the first time she saw her.

Mazaa glanced down at her scarred hands and rumpled flight suit. She sighed again. Peyton was definitely out of her league. No way was Mazaa going to make a fool of herself asking her out.

Throwing a couple of bills onto the counter next to her half-full mug, she stood up. She had an early morning run to Odin IV, and it was getting late.

§

Mazaa was up early the next morning, inspecting her assigned ship in Transport Hanger Delta. She was halfway through the preflight check list when she caught the scent of smoke.

Voices echoed out from the long-term storage bay.

“Fire! Fire!”

“Evacuate!”

A shrill alarm blared.

She turned and sprinted toward the nearest exit, but couldn’t outrun the thick wall of smoke billowing through the transport hanger.

Choking on acrid fumes and eyes burning, Mazaa raced forward blindly.

Pain flashed through her skull, and then darkness.

§

When she opened her eyes again, she was staring straight up at a bright light. Thoughts slowly started to congeal in her mind.

Shouting. Smoke. Pain.

Her hand went to her forehead. She groaned.

Turning her head took monumental effort. She was lying flat on her back on the table in an examination room. At least she wasn’t in a hospital bed this time.

Paper crinkled as she shifted. Moving made the world ripple. A web of light spread out around her in waves. Visions flicked in front of her eyes.

How hard had she hit her head?

Panicking, Mazaa wiggled her toes and fingers. Limbs seemed to be in working order, but a parade of ghostly images continued to shimmer around her. It reminded her of the time she tried mine mushrooms, but these hallucinations looked more real and lasted longer.

Cold sweat beaded on her neck. She was hurt and alone. Again.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a door creaking open.

Peyton Putnam entered the room. Her hair was a mess and her smile forced. Odd beams of light came from her too. Her body looked solid, but it wasn’t clear if she was real.

“Hi. I’m Dr. Putnam. I’m here to check on you. Glad to see you’re awake.”

None of the other images had spoken. So probably real.

“But you’re a pediatrician,” Mazaa rasped.

“Yes, but I’ve worked in an emergency room previously. There were multiple injuries during the fire. All available medical personnel were asked to help.”

Suddenly, Mazaa saw a flash of a younger Dr. Putnam working in an unfamiliar clinic. Was this the past?

A wave of images rolled over Mazaa, all younger versions of Dr. Putnam. Usually working or studying. Often alone. And sad in so many of them.

Before she could stop himself, Mazaa blurted out, “Are you still lonely?”

Dr. Putnam looked surprised, but quickly composed herself. “Let’s focus on you. Does anything hurt other than your head?” She pulled out a medical scanner and directed it towards Mazaa. “The EMTs pulled you out first. They reported that you didn’t have any visible burns, but it looks like you inhaled smoke.”

“Sorry. It’s just…” Mazaa wasn’t sure if she should try to explain about the vision of the other woman’s past. Or possible lives? It was all confusing.

“No problem. Not the weirdest conversation I’ve had today. Are you experiencing hallucinations?” Dr. Putnam flashed a light into Mazaa’s eyes.

“Yes.”

“Boxes of koblyx mushrooms were in the storage room that burned in the fire. The constable thinks it was smugglers. Bottom line, the smoke you inhaled contained trace amounts of the mushrooms. Have you heard of them?”

Mazaa nodded.

“I’ve read they can be very disorientating. We know more about ingesting them as opposed to inhaling, but there shouldn’t be any long-term effects. But you may have a few interesting days until everything is out of your system.”

Mazaa tried to pay attention to her words, but the images were whirling even faster. It was distracting.

She shook her head to clear it.

Dr. Putnam looked at her intently. “Are you feeling okay? You hit your head pretty hard.”

“It’s not too bad.”

With a concerned look on her face, Dr. Putnam reached out to examine Mazaa’s head. The movement caused the web of light around Mazaa to merge with the beams coming from the doctor.

New visions formed, even more vivid and almost solid.

Mazaa’s mouth dropped open.

“Are you dizzy?” Dr. Putnam pulled out the medial scanner again.

Mazaa didn’t respond, too absorbed in what she was seeing.

The scenes shifted quickly, but there were some images that appeared over and over again: The two of them curled up on an unfamiliar couch. A white dress. Tiny chubby feet waving in the air.

Did this mean there was a chance? Maybe Dr. Putnam could be interested?

Before she could talk herself out of it, Mazaa blurted out, “Do you want to get dinner?”

“I promise I’m almost done. I’ll make sure we get you something to eat soon.”

“No. Would you like to have dinner with me? On a date?”

Dr. Putnam paused and her eyes locked onto Mazaa’s. They stared at one another for several heartbeats before she turned on her megawatt smile. “For the moment, you’re my patient, and you’ve had a hell of a day. How about you ask me again in a month or two if you still want to.”

That wasn’t a no! “Okay, I can do that.”

“Some things are worth doing the right way, don’t you think?”

 “I do, let’s do it right.” And then, just because Mazaa liked the sound of the words, she repeated, “I do.”

---

New to Odin III? Find out what you’ve been missing!
Check out The Complete Episode Guide. 

Coming Tuesday: Episode 46, “Token of Affection,” by Gustavo Bondoni

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Kimberly Ann Smiley was born and raised in California but now lives in Mississippi after an unexpected plot twist. She has several pieces of paper that claim she is a mechanical engineer and none that mention writing, but has decided not to let the practical decisions made in her youth define the rest of her life. Her stories have appeared both here on Stupefying Stories and in Daily Science Fiction and Sci-Fi Shorts.

Learn more at https://kasmiley.wordpress.com/

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“Spacefront Property” • by Galen T. Pickett

The agent turned off the engine of the ostentatiously expensive vehicle. 

After checking a few dials, they broke the seals and exited. Gently rolling hills of golden summer grasses dotted with scrub oak and coyote bush greeted the visitors. The air was as clean and fresh as only the deep interior of this unspoiled Southern California grassland brush could make. Had they olfactory receptors, they would have detected the faint scent of sage and wildflowers. The sky was a deeply scrubbed blue. A light breeze sent waves rushing through the tall grass, making arcing patterns that chased each other across one hilltop, and down another. Clouds were sailing low in the sky, following the breeze. They were in full sunlight, but as they stretched their legs, and looked about, a line of cloud-shadow marched up and overtook them. This wasn’t darkness like they were used to; there was too much light coming from the rest of the sky and being reflected from the nearby hills.

“And, everyone lives like this, just open to space?” the tall woman asked.

“The atmosphere is gravitationally bound, so the inhabitants have no need for pressure suits, no domes, and we are well out of the cosmic ray red zone. There is a self-organized dynamo running in the iron core, so there is a magnetic field adequate to protect us from that,” the agent gestured to the dark cloud with a bright, shining silver lining temporarily obscuring the sun. “Of the seven hundred or so self-knowing species on the planet, only a couple of dozen are on the way to creating a true Hive. None of those is all that sophisticated, but one of the singleton species has achieved limited spaceflight. They have a tendency to clump their dwellings, but are content to mostly occupy the dry surface, in a single layer. But they are far from recreating a Hive.”

“Incredible! They just use the surface? No proper structures in the interior?” The agent indicated not. “And these things above us?”

“Can you believe it? Hydrogen-hydroxide crystals. They are literally everywhere on this ball. Right at this very spot, liquid drops spontaneously fall from the sky. See the organisms here?” he asked as he waved an arm toward the fields, “They extract energy from the local star, and store it, like your fuel cells, using the atmosphere and the liquid material. Extraordinary, but I guess if you have this much material lying about, life will figure out some way to use it.”

“And the inhabitants have no idea of the value of this? The wealth just ‘falling from the sky’?”

“Apparently not. You might have noticed on the way in… those large reflective areas? They have deposits of liquid material covering about three-quarters of this place. It is in the air, it is in the soil, the inhabitants are largely composed of it. If you can believe it.”

“Seriously? Walking sacks of wealth?”

“Arranged around a metallic core, but yes, essentially.”

A low whistle.

“Who else knows about this?” she asked reaching for her data-possessor, tapping a message, another hand absently brushing the eggs ripening across her torso.

“Not many. Remember, our main selling point is our advanced network of probes. We don’t operate in the usual places, and we don’t really advertise our successes… a tidy commission on our part, a position of unassailable wealth for you and your organization. But, this won’t stay secret long.”

She reached down and grasped a stalk of grass, and with alarm motioned the agent toward the bright red beetle that had alighted upon her. “Is this an inhabitant? Someone we can negotiate with?” she asked with interest. The jointed legs and carapace were ungainly, but not any more alien than she had come to expect. There was a lot of variation out there, everywhere there was life. “It is hard to believe this carries such wealth.”

“No, this one doesn’t process enough to be able to speak for the planet. Just one of the riders. Looks conventional enough, but there’s a day’s worth of material in there.”

Nodding, she inserted the ladybug into a compressor, and nodded slowly as she chewed. “Interesting flavor. I understand we are going to have no problems with the Court?”

“Precedent is pretty clear, here. About a half-dozen times in the dominant species’ history someone has come up with the correct formula, ‘the strong must protect the weak,’ and ‘the first shall be last,’ and ‘all you need is love’. But these seem to have been just slogans they seem to use while they defraud each other. And, they will do it for piles of common metals and ground-state crystals. I have zero doubts on this point. They are not proper Hive-bound, for sure, but they do believe in concentration of authority. There are just a few principals we need deal with. We have a pretty good idea of the price the locals will agree to. And, with the ‘reap what has been sown’ rule, they are just going to have to accept your presence here. If they can even reach the Court, you will not have any trouble enforcing those contracts.”

Flexing her thoracic stabilizers in thought, the Queen eventually tapped her data-possessor. “Payment has been deposited. Please record the claim. This, I assume, locks in our exclusive rights as far as our competition is concerned?” 

The agent nodded. 

“Then as soon as you have negotiated and concluded those contracts, you can leave my planet,” she said, as she began burrowing into the grassy hillside.

 

---

 

Galen T. Pickett has been a member of the physics faculty at Cal State Long Beach since 1999. He lives in the greater LA area with his spouse, four grown children, and several canines. His writing is inspired by the grandeur of the physical world and the absurdity of the academic world, in nearly equal measure.

 

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“Without My Flaws” • by Devan Barlow

It’s funny—I think the creature looks more like me than she used to.

No. It isn’t funny…

I don’t remember when that started. Maybe she always looked this much like me?

She’s me, but better. A reflection without my flaws. As long as I don’t let my guard down, don’t let anyone know that I’m hiding, no one will realize she isn’t me.

Even her voice is better, like mine but brighter, brilliant enough to drive away even the slightest concern. When she takes over, people believe me when I say that I’m fine.

I am fine.

I suddenly realize it’s the first Friday of the month, when my friends normally meet for dinner. I’m actually not working tonight. I could go.

The creature glances at me, like she knows what I’m thinking.

She’s right. I don’t want to be surrounded by people celebrating the end of the work week when I’m about to be at the store all weekend. And I would just have to tell the same lie again and hope my friends don’t recognize it.

Oh you know me, still applying, crossing my fingers…

Never mind I haven’t submitted an application in over a month, much less heard back from any of the jobs from the last time I felt brave enough to deal with forms.

“Just stay here,” the creature soothes. “Besides, remember last time?”

§

Three months ago, I’d had the night off and joined them.

It was almost fun, until I got a call from the store. Asking (demanding) that I come in four hours early the next day. And I heard my own faltering “sure,” because what else was I supposed to say? I wanted to cry.

And then I was crying, and trying to hide it, but the look Bridget and Reiko gave each other told me I failed. I ran out to my car and drove home, ignoring their protests that I should stay.

Back at my apartment I found the creature in my kitchen. She looked less like me then, more a large collection of three-dimensional gray lines, surging and spiraling around one another but occasionally falling into a humanoid shape.

The shape rotated toward me, lines brightening, and then the creature had a face. For a brief, searing moment, I thought I was looking into a mirror.

The creature was, somehow, me, and she promised to keep me safe if I let her stay.

After that, whenever I went out, she came with me. She was me, except so much better.

§

My phone makes a noise, and I know she would tell me not to look, that it will only make me feel more stressed. But the sound continues, gnawing at me, and then something sparks in my fingers and I’m picking up the phone.

It’s from Bridget. Why don’t we do something next week. Coffee? I’m worried about you.

I put the phone down and look at the creature. She commiserates with my face.

“Do they think I can’t take care of myself?” I ask.

“Well you can’t,” she says briskly, “but that’s what I’m here for.”

I go and lie down. I’m exhausted, and sore, though I can’t fall asleep.

I don’t know what I would do without the creature.

Bridget can’t really want to talk to me. They’ve all been looking for a way to cut me out of our group for a long time. Might as well make it easy for them.

Except…

Why would Bridget reach out, if she didn’t care?

§

I’m finally asleep, after closing the night before and opening this morning, when my phone buzzes again.

Reiko. We’re here!

I look questioningly at the creature as she comes in.

Today she looks… stronger. Like her outlines are more defined against the backdrop of my room than ever. Her movements are sharper, more confident.

She plucks the phone from my fingers. “Now,” she says, “I’ve got everything I need.”

“You… made plans?” She’s never left without me before, without the two of us pretending to be one.

She slides the phone into the front pocket of my favorite blue corduroys. They look better on her than they ever have on me. I wouldn’t have thought to pair them with that blouse.

The pose she strikes would look casual if her eyes weren’t so cruel.

She leaves, and locks the door behind her. By the time I get to the window overlooking the parking lot, she has reached my friends where they wait outside of Reiko’s car. They smile at her.

---

 

Devan Barlow is the author of the Curses & Curtains series of fairy-tales-meet-musicals fantasy novels. Her short fiction and poetry has appeared in several anthologies and magazines.

She can be found at her website, devanbarlow.com, or on Bluesky @devanbarlow.bsky.social. She reads voraciously, and can often be found hanging out with her dog, drinking tea, and thinking about sea monsters. 

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