Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Fiction.
AI Interrupted
Kristin loves AI. Ever since AI became a thing, she has been on the phone or using it on her laptop, uploading photos and stories to her social media. It’s like it was made for her. It’s brilliant and perfect in her eyes. She can escape the daily grind of high school and other trivial matters thanks to AI. She spends her days creating things like an image of a goat eating at a diner with a monkey as a waiter. She proudly shows it to all her friends. Her friends seem to love the wild ideas she comes up with. They even insert their own ideas at times. Anytime there’s a new assignment due, she is thrilled because it’s an excuse to improve her AI technique.
By Meredith McLarty2 days ago in Fiction
On The Way To Work
I sidestepped another man walking down the street. Again, taking no care in the world to watch his surroundings - if I was as distracted and nonchalant as he, I’d likely have already been hit by a car. He’s lucky people see him, notice his presence. I don’t get that. Most of us don’t.
By Maddy Haywood2 days ago in Fiction
The Warrior Who Forgot Victory. AI-Generated.
The soldier did not know his name. He knew this was not always the case. Somewhere in the architecture of his mind there existed a room where his name had once lived — a room he could locate by feel, the way you know where furniture stands in a dark house — but the room was empty now, swept clean, and had been for longer than he could calculate, because calculating required memory and memory was precisely what he was running out of.
By Cordelia Vance2 days ago in Fiction
The Man Who Couldn't Boil Water. AI-Generated.
Carlo Benedetti had exactly three culinary skills. He could boil water — usually. He could open a can of tomatoes without injuring himself — mostly. And he could, when the circumstances were sufficiently desperate, produce a plate of scrambled eggs that was edible in the same way that a Tuesday afternoon in February is technically a day: technically correct, bringing no one any particular joy.
By Cordelia Vance2 days ago in Fiction
The Phonograph of Hollow Souls. AI-Generated.
The dead, Edmund Voss had come to believe, were simply a matter of frequency. He arrived at this conclusion not through any mystical awakening or feverish religious crisis, but through the careful, methodical application of scientific reasoning — the same reasoning that had earned him a modest reputation among London's emerging class of acoustic engineers and a less modest reputation among its society gossips, who found a bachelor of forty-three with wax-stained fingers and an apartment full of recording cylinders somewhat difficult to seat at dinner parties.
By Alpha Cortex2 days ago in Fiction
