The troll is closing fast, and I leap a pile of rubble to slow it down as I swing my Bottomless Bag™ around and begin to rummage. Why do I pick up so much crap? I toss a big rock over my shoulder, then a half-rotten leather belt, a bundle of cloth, and—is that a thigh bone? The troll roars, and I curse the lack of pockets or nifty dividers. Empty potion bottle. Fishing rod. The troll nearly has me. I reach deep, finally coming up… with a rusty fork. If I survive this encounter, I plan to sue.

Author’s Note: Or, you know, stop putting so much crap in my purse. Either or.

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An Occupy Reality protester has been arrested for assault at a URMind VR suite. The victim, Asher Delgado, had been jacked in for 87 hours when protester Corbin Fricke paid for a station in his dual occupancy pod, then cracked open a physical, paper book. Delgado, who has severe asthma, was reportedly enjoying a game of Pool With Friends when he complained of dizziness and vanished from the simulation. Doctors say that dust from the book likely triggered the near-fatal episode. When asked to comment, Frick said, “VR is not an escape from the real. Wake up!” Charges are pending.

Author’s Note: Go outside, sometimes…

Categories: Dionne Obeso, Fiction | 1 Comment »

I always said I would go to any length to avoid my ex, but falling into a wormhole wasn’t what I’d had in mind…

I emerged shaken, surprised, and alive. I was even more surprised six seconds later, when the radio lit up.

“Strange vessel, you are in violation of the Artikan Dominion. Cut your engines and prepare to be boarded.”

“Shit.” My fingers worked the controls, desperate to turn around, but the wormhole was sealed and long-gone. I sighed as I heard the clang of their tow device on my hull. Maybe I should have just let Nathan talk.

Author’s Note: This story came to me in the form of the first line. I just played from there.

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It was the perfect heist. We planned every detail, finding the frequency of the casino’s shield grid, tuning the ship’s emitters to slide right through—we got door cards, passcodes, and schedules. I was the inside woman, slipping through their security loops like a ghost, the nanochip behind my eye directing me as I crept toward the server room.

It was a matter of moments to make the credit transfer, and then I was out, racing ahead of the automated alert system and onto the roof. My so-called fiancé, the pilot, was already cruising away. It was the perfect heist.

Author’s Note: It’s alright to admire someone else’s cleverness, even when it comes at your own expense.

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