Letter From The Editor - Issue 63 - June 2018

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Issue 62
Stories
Failing Constructs
by Alter S. Reiss
Pinedaughter's Grove
by Ville Meriläinen
The Robots Karamazov
by Marie Vibbert
For a Rich Man to Enter
by Susan Forest
IGMS Audio
InterGalactic Medicine Show Interviews
Vintage Fiction
A Crash Course in Fate
by Eric James Stone
Bonus Material

Writing Fantasy

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The Stars beneath the Leaves
    by Joshua Ogden

The Stars beneath the Leaves
Artwork by Rhiannon R.S.

The Robot, who hadn't decided on a name for himself just yet, was in orbit over a Time Shadow of the planet Earth of the year 300 SA, just before she collapsed on herself and everything that lived on her.

It was remarkably still, floating in the calm of space before it happened.

The sun shone down on the clear blue whiteness of the planet, shining spectacularly behind and around it, sending waves of light splashing over the sides and dripping wonderfully on the Robot. It pleased him to look at it, though it certainly was much more than just pleasing. The Robot was still having a difficult time understanding and naming the things he was feeling, for the ability to feel was a new addition to this being who was only meant to be a purely mechanical and unfeeling thing.

A Being, he thought.

The Robot looked at the Earth (which wasn't really there, a memory from years before then) and knew that he had a soul, and that the Earth herself did too, and that there were trillions of souls contained there, even though the people who lived there had surrendered them partially to the terrible war that caused the end of all of it.

The Earth was inside the Robot. He had gone through the Shadows of Time to make sure everything important was there, recorded and remembered, though not saved in their physical form. The Robot didn't have the technology to truly go through time. He could only see things as they happened. Time was constant and forever, however tragic it was.

Whether the soul of the Robot was the Earth or merely a consequence of seeing the beauty she carried, the Robot didn't know. But the fact that he had one, in some way because of her and her beauty, made him love her and made him filled with near complete joy.

The Robot watched in floating serenity. It truly is beautiful, he thought simply.

Then the sun broke its way through the Earth, taking her neck between its infected jaws and twisting violently, and she was all gone in a moment, in less time than should have ever been allowed.

Only I am beautiful now, thought the Robot. The memories he held of beautiful things were all that was left of the soul of the Earth.

He carried that unequivocated weight fueled by disgusting tragedy and terrifying hope through a warp that brought him towards a planet settled by people from Earth.

The Robot hoped that he might be able to lessen his load there.

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