Podcast appearances and mentions of nicky drayden

Jenn and guest Kelly Jensen dig into what horror is and isn't, the Summer Scares program, recommendations, and what even is happening with this ACOTAR adaptation. Subscribe to the podcast via RSS, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. To get even more SF/F news and recs, sign up for our Swords and Spaceships newsletter! 2024 is the tenth year of the Read Harder Challenge! Join us as we make our way through 24 tasks meant to expand our reading horizons and diversify our TBRs. To get book recommendations for each task, sign up for the Read Harder newsletter. We'll also keep you informed about other cool reading challenges, readathons, and more across the bookish internet. If you become a paid subscriber, you get even more recommendations plus community features, where you can connect with a community of passionate, like-minded readers in a cozy and supportive corner of the internet. Visit bookriot.com/readharder to sign up. This content contains affiliate links. When you buy through these links, we may earn an affiliate commission. News A Court of Thorns and Roses Is ... Not? ... Cancelled [Collider] Books Discussed Summer Scares Jackal by Erin E. Adams Such Sharp Teeth by Rachel Harrison This Thing Between Us by Gus Moreno All These Bodies by Kendare Blake Dead Flip by Sara Farizan #MurderTrending by Gretchen McNeil Ophie's Ghosts by Justina Ireland The Nest by Kenneth Oppel My Aunt Is A Monster by Reimena Yee Our Hideous Progeny by C.E. McGill (cw: animal experimentation & cruelty, homophobia, violence against women, loss of a child) Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba, Vol. 1, Koyoharu Gotouge with John Werry (Translator), Stan!, Adam Grano, Mike Montesa, John Hunt, Symbiosis novellas by Nicky Drayden (cw: body horror) The White Guy Dies First edited by Terry J. Benton-Walker (7/16) Clown in a Cornfield by Adam Cesare The Black Girl Survives in This One edited by Desiree S. Evans and Saraceia J. Fennell (4/2) Chlorine by Jade Song Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

We say goodbye and good luck to Gabriel, one of our book friends who has been with the Port Moody Public Library for the last year. Thank you for all the book (and video game) recommendations, Gabriel. Books mentioned on this episode: Bioshock: Rapture by John Shirley, Aristotle and Dante Dive into the Waters of the World by Benjamin Alire Sáenz, Vicious by V.E. Schwab, Minecraft: The Dragon by Nicky Drayden, and Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner. --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/keepitfictional/message

A struggling college student gains new perspective on her studies from her classmate, who's come to study from another planet. Find more of the author's work at www.nickydrayden.com.

Let's talk science fiction! Continuing with my “Where to Start” series, this episode is on where to start reading sci-fi. I'm joined by YouTubers Angela from the Literature Science Alliance and Tori Morrow. For exclusive bonus content and early access to episodes, consider joining the Chapter 3 Podcast Patreon   Looking for a book mentioned in the episode? Check here! *Note that all links are affiliate links from which we earn a commission to support the podcast Books from On My Radar segment: A Dark and Starless Forest by Sarah Holowell: https://amzn.to/3nmf0ur It All Comes Back to You by Farah Naz Rishi: https://amzn.to/38ZaLfO White Smoke by Tiffany D. Jackson: https://amzn.to/3k0Q8Xa Under the Whispering Door by TJ Klune: https://amzn.to/3E8dQZm City of Thieves by Alex London: https://amzn.to/2X8mdUm First Light by Casey Berger: https://amzn.to/2Xcqo1j No Gods, No Monsters by Cadwell Turnbull: https://amzn.to/3C1mK9q Destroyer of Light by Jennifer Marie Brisset: https://amzn.to/3l6cFkA Elder Race by Adrian Tchaikovsky: https://amzn.to/3hleIQJ Cytonic by Brandon Sanderson: https://amzn.to/3txf77w Other Books/Authors Mentioned His Dark Materials by Phillip Pullman: https://amzn.to/2XbwYVG Remote Control by Nnedi Okorafor: https://amzn.to/2X8b2KO The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins: https://amzn.to/38Xr0dC The Uglies by Scott Westerfeld: https://amzn.to/3ntSCz8 The Giver by Lois Lowry: https://amzn.to/3niUDyg Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card: https://amzn.to/3E4jJ9X The Foundation Series by Isaac Asimov: https://amzn.to/3BUWI7w The Replicas series by Marilyn Kaye: https://amzn.to/3E64Ns8 Myst series: https://amzn.to/3tzUbNk Stories of Your Life and Others by Ted Chiang: https://amzn.to/3BWY01Z Do You Dream of Terra-Two by Temi Oh: https://amzn.to/3tvTJiU Exhalation by Ted Chiang: https://amzn.to/3hmax7d Kindred by Octavia Butler: https://amzn.to/2YMHp2A Expanse series by James S.A. Corey: https://amzn.to/3yYS4Dx The Martian by Andy Weir: https://amzn.to/3niPg29 World War Z by Max Brooks: https://amzn.to/3twoKTP Jurassic Park by Michael Crighton: https://amzn.to/2XiaJgO Dune by Frank Herbert: https://amzn.to/3yYsA9r The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells: https://amzn.to/2X5erdm Binti by Nnedi Okorafor: https://amzn.to/2YMRCvV The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet by Becky Chambers: https://amzn.to/3jWd4GR A Psalm for the Wild Built by Becky Chambers: https://amzn.to/3A3UeDd We Are Satellites by Sarah Pinsker: https://amzn.to/3lgJfQC Sleeping Giants by Sylvain Neuvel: https://amzn.to/3z3jJ6i An Absolutely Remarkable Thing by Hank Green: https://amzn.to/2VvTub4 Hyperion by Dan Simmons: https://amzn.to/3hl5zrt Ninefox Gambit by Yoon Ha Lee: https://amzn.to/38Xua0Y To Be Taught if Fortunate by Becky Chambers: https://amzn.to/3nnFZWC The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin: https://amzn.to/3EgHxrs Escaping Exodus by Nicky Drayden: https://amzn.to/3Aefu9m The Prey of Gods by Nicky Drayden: https://amzn.to/3E0s1jj A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine: https://amzn.to/2XggWtR Catfishing on Catnet by Naomi Kritzer: https://amzn.to/3E78rSf This Mortal Coil by Emily Suvada: https://amzn.to/3hmoYbf The Stand by Stephen King: https://amzn.to/3k0k45x Nyxia by Scott Reintgen: https://amzn.to/3k2ds6Y The Fold by Peter Clines: https://amzn.to/38UDXEO The Goddess in the Machine by Lora Beth Johnson: https://amzn.to/3k2y0fe Midnight Robber by Nalo Hopkinson: https://amzn.to/390Agxv Scythe by Neal Schusterman: https://amzn.to/3C2e2re The Best of All Possible Worlds by Karen Lord: https://amzn.to/3hlCufq Ice Planet Barbarians by Ruby Dixon: https://amzn.to/3z26jb1 Winter's Orbit by Everina Maxwell: https://amzn.to/3E9HRrG Exit West by Mohsin Hamid: https://amzn.to/3nlnVw9 Elysium by Jennifer Marie Brissett: https://amzn.to/3tuouVm This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone: https://amzn.to/2YBEGsA Bone Shard Daughter by Andrea Stewart: https://amzn.to/3z2WLfR   Follow us on Instagram, Twitter and TikTok @Chapter3Podcast and you can also find Bethany talking about books on YouTube @BeautifullyBookishBethany. You can now find episodes on YouTube https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCy6yRiktWbWRAFpByrVk-kg Interested in early access to episodes, private Discord channels and other perks? Consider joining the Chapter 3 Patreon! Or join our public Discord. A new episode will be available to download in two weeks!  This episode was recorded using a Blue Yeti USB condenser microphone kit: https://amzn.to/342dnqx

Spoiler Free Book Review. The Prey Of Gods - Nicky Drayden - Harper Voyager - 2017. The first book I will discuss in this podcast is The Prey of Gods by Nicky Drayden. As I mentioned in the previous episode; the book gives me the best of both worlds when it comes to the African literary experience, an African American author and a book set in Africa. Nicky Drayden is a system analyst, a girl who codes, and the novel is set in a future version of South Africa, where robots, renewable energy, and genetic engineering are commonplace, we also explore the cultural and tribal traditions that are thousands of years old, and old beliefs of deities that live among us and sorcery that is well hidden in everyday life. I will try my best as spoiler-free as I can. Any details I mention are already present online as book reviews or goodreads comments etc. Good Reads page  Nicky Drayden‘s website  Brenoch Adams

This week, Patrick and Tracy welcome Nicky Drayden, author of ESCAPING EXODUS! About ESCAPING EXODUS: Earth is a distant memory. Habitable extrasolar planets are still out of reach. For generations, humanity has been clinging to survival by establishing colonies within enormous vacuum-breathing space beasts and mining their resources to the point of depletion. Rash, dreamy, […] The post Episode 483-With Nicky Drayden appeared first on The Functional Nerds.

Nine parents, baby beasts, and Kelechi didn't read the book; the Book Babes (we're back to four) review Escaping Exodus by Nicky Drayden.

In this episode of Fiction Fans your hosts can't stop talking about “The Prey of Gods” by Nicky Drayden, with both a spoiler-free overview and an in-depth discussion. The episode also includes: Sara’s struggle with The Wheel of Time Slog, the start of Lilly’s The Witcher adventures, and an attempt to pick their top ten books. Music provided by Audio Library Plus: “Travel With Us” by Vendredi and “Sérénade à Notre Dame de Paris” by Amarià.

Amanda and Jenn give their current favorite cozy reads across genres in this week’s episode of Get Booked. Subscribe to the podcast via RSS, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or Stitcher. This post contains affiliate links. When you buy through these links, Book Riot may earn a commission. Books Discussed The Storied Life of AJ Fikry by Gabrielle Zevin A Bad Day for Sunshine by Darynda Jones (tw: rape) Evvie Drake Starts Over by Linda Holmes All the Wild Hungers by Karen Babine (cw: cancer treatment, fertility and pregnancy issues) The True Queen by Zen Cho (Sorcerer Royal #2) Safe As Houses by Marie Helene Bertino Serena Singh Flips the Script by Sonya Lalli (tw: domestic violence) Persephone Station by Stina Leicht Brilliant Life of Eudora Honeysett by Annie Lyons (tw: suicide) Prey of Gods by Nicky Drayden (cw: reference to sexual assault, harm to children) Ocean Light by Nalini Singh (cw: description of panic attacks, reference to child abuse, abductions) Two Dark Moons by Avi Silver See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

In this episode, I’m joined by Nicky Drayden, author of ESCAPING EXODUS, and its new sequel, SYMBIOSIS. This sci-fi duology explores a human civilization built entirely inside colossal, space-faring beasts. The impetuous young Seska Kayleigh is a child of privilege and heir to the matriarchal throne of her people. As their recently relocated colony carves out a new city from the guts of their living host, Seska teeters between duty and scandal, engaging in romance with a girl from a lower caste. Sturdy beastworker Adalla would spend her days laboring in the very heart of the beast, a dangerous and important job. But she’s also Seska’s best friend. The young women’s burgeoning romance threatens both their social standings and their lives in the strict and cruel hierarchy of their society. When their ill-advised adventures uncover alarming secrets about the nature of their home, Seska and Adalla find themselves caught up in political machinations, family double-crosses, and lower caste uprisings. Can their love survive revolution and their own selfish choices? And how will their revelations reshape their world? ESCAPING EXODUS is wildly imaginative space opera  and is available now. The sequel, ESCAPING EXODUS: SYMBIOSIS, arrives on February 23rd from Harper Voyager: Amazon Bookshop Barnes & Noble Books-a-Million IndieBound » Some of these are affiliate links. Using them supports the channel, at no additional cost to you! Whenever possible, though, I encourage you to purchase from your local bookstores. ABOUT NICKY DRAYDEN Nicky Drayden is a Systems Analyst who dabbles in prose when she’s not buried in code. She resides in Austin, Texas where being weird is highly encouraged, if not required. Her award-winning novel THE PREY OF GODS is set in a futuristic South Africa brimming with demigods, robots, and hallucinogenic hijinks, and with her new novel ESCAPING EXODUS, she’ll be taking her weirdness off-world to a civilization living inside the gut of moon-sized space beast. FOLLOW NICKY DRAYDEN Website Twitter Instagram Amazon Profile Goodreads ABOUT ESCAPING EXODUS Earth is a distant memory. Habitable extrasolar planets are still out of reach. For generations, humanity has been clinging to survival by establishing colonies within enormous vacuum-breathing space beasts and mining their resources to the point of depletion. Rash, dreamy, and unconventional, Seske Kaleigh should be preparing for her future role as clan leader, but her people have just culled their latest beast, and she’s eager to find the cause of the violent tremors plaguing their new home. Defying social barriers, Seske teams up with her best friend, a beast worker, and ventures into restricted areas for answers to end the mounting fear and rumors. Instead, they discover grim truths about the price of life in the void. Then, Seske is unexpectedly thrust into the role of clan matriarch, responsible for thousands of lives in a harsh universe where a single mistake can be fatal. Her claim to the throne is challenged by a rival determined to overthrow her and take control—her intelligent, cunning, and confident sister. Seske may not be a born leader like her sister, yet her unorthodox outlook and incorruptible idealism may be what the clan needs to save themselves and their world. ABOUT ESCAPING EXODUS: SYMBIOSIS Nearly a thousand years removed from Earth, the remnants of humanity cling to existence inside giant, space faring creatures known as the Zenzee. Abused and exploited by humans for generations, these majestic animals nearly went extinct, but under the command of its newly minted ruler, Doka Kaleigh, life in the Parados I has flourished. Thanks to careful oversight and sacrifice by all of its crew, they are now on the brink of utopia, and yet Doka’s rivals feel threatened by that success. The Senate allowed Doka to lead their people believing he’d fail spectacularly—a disaster that would cement the legitimacy of their long-standing matriarchy. Despite vocal opposition and blatant attacks on his authority, Doka has continued to handle his position with grace and intelligence; he knows a single misstep means disaster. When a cataclysmic event on another Zenzee world forces Doka and his people to accept thousands of refugees, a culture clash erupts, revealing secrets from the past that could endanger their future. For Doka, the stakes are bigger and more personal than ever before—and could cost him his reign and his heart. He has fallen for the one woman he is forbidden to love: his wife, Seske. Doka and Seske must work closely together to sway the other Zenzee worlds to stop their cycles of destruction. But when they stumble upon a discovery that can transform their world, they know they must prepare to fight a battle where there can be no winners, only survivors.

What are the challenges of writing and publishing the first novel, your second book or your third book? With the collection of writers on this podcast from a Zoom event sponsored by KAZI Book on June 13, 2020, we discussed novels in the political thriller, crime fiction, science fiction/fantasy genres, and a short story collection. We explored not only the themes of their most recently published books, but their unique journeys in writing and publishing them. Meng Jin, author of the novel LITTLE GODS, and Richard Santos, author of the novel TRUST ME, just published their debut novels in 2020. For Rion Amilcar-Scott, his short story collection THE WORLD DOESN'T REQUIRE YOU, published in 2019, was his second book. And for science fiction/fantasy writer Nicky Drayden, ESCAPING EXODUS, published in 2019, was her third book.

What are the challenges of writing and publishing the first novel, your second book or your third book? With the collection of writers on this podcast from a Zoom event sponsored by KAZI Book on June 13, 2020, we discussed novels in the political thriller, crime fiction, science fiction/fantasy genres, and a short story collection. We explored not only the themes of their most recently published books, but their unique journeys in writing and publishing them. Meng Jin, author of the novel LITTLE GODS, and Richard Santos, author of the novel TRUST ME, just published their debut novels in 2020. For Rion Amilcar-Scott, his short story collection THE WORLD DOESN’T REQUIRE YOU, published in 2019, was his second book. And for science fiction/fantasy writer Nicky Drayden, ESCAPING EXODUS, published in 2019, was her third book.

Corene, Fiona, Liz, Sadie, and Virginia suggest graphic novels, mystery, science fiction, and fantasy books by black authors. Books mentioned in this episode: March by John Lewis and Andrew Aydin, Hollywood Homicide by Kellye Garrett, The Prey of Gods by Nicky Drayden, A Blade So Black by L.L. McKinney, and Check, Please by Ngozi Ukazu. --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/keepitfictional/message

Spoiler Free Book Review. The Prey Of Gods - Nicky Drayden - Harper Voyager - 2017. The first book I will discuss in this podcast is The Prey of Gods by Nicky Drayden. As I mentioned in the previous episode; the book gives me the best of both worlds when it comes to the African literary experience, an African American author and a book set in Africa. Nicky Drayden is a system analyst, a girl who codes, and the novel is set in a future version of South Africa, where robots, renewable energy, and genetic engineering are commonplace, we also explore the cultural and tribal traditions that are thousands of years old, and old beliefs of deities that live among us and sorcery that is well hidden in everyday life. I will try my best as spoiler-free as I can. Any details I mention are already present online as book reviews or goodreads comments etc. Good Reads page Nicky Drayden‘s website Brenoch Adams

This week, Jenn discusses two books that evoke a sense of wonder. This episode is sponsored by TBR: Tailored Book Recommendations, Book Riot’s personalized reading recommendation service, which now has gifting! Subscribe to the podcast via RSS here, Apple Podcasts here, Spotify here. The show can also be found on Stitcher here. To get even more SF/F news and recs, sign up for our Swords and Spaceships newsletter! Books Discussed: Dragons in a Bag by Zeta Elliott The Prey of Gods by Nicky Drayden (tw: child abuse, sexual assault)

Robots: service ‘bots, human-robot interaction, emotions, software architectureRecommendation: Take a break from reading dark, ponderous sci-fi and enjoy a sci-fi/fantasy hybrid that has as many memorable characters and funny scenes as Avengers: Infinity Wars. And remember to be nice to robots!

The Robotics Through Science Fiction podcast returns! Today we're joined by the wonderful Nicky Drayden

It's our last episode of 2019, which means it's time to look back at what has ultimately been a tumultuous year for the Vorthos community. Starting with Guilds of Ravnica, we take in every release since then (except War of the Spark: Forsaken, which we talked about last week) and evaluate how the year as a whole has gone. See you in 2020, Planeswalkers! If you enjoy The Vorthos Cast, consider supporting us on Patreon at www.patreon.com/thevorthoscast! 02:41 – We're Off for Two Weeks! 03:50 – We have a Theros: Beyond Death Preview on January 2nd! 04:35 – No Theros: Beyond Death Story Link: https://magic.wizards.com/en/articles/archive/feature/theros-beyond-death-story-cards-2019-12-16 Link: https://www.coolstuffinc.com/a/carythomasbarkett-12182019-the-state-of-magic-story-2019 14:04 – Nicky Drayden's Ravnica Stories Link: https://magic.wizards.com/en/story 20:13 – Guildmaster's Guide to Ravnica 23:19 – Children of the Nameless by Brandon Sanderson 25:49 – IDW's Chandra #1-4 by Vita Ayala Illus. Harvey Tolibao Link: https://www.comixology.com/Magic-The-Gathering-Chandra/comics-series/123281 29:46 – The Art of Magic: The Gathering – Ravnica by James Wyatt 32:54 – War of the Spark: Ravnica by Greg Weisman 38:07 – The Gathering Storm by Django Wexler Link: https://mtg.gamepedia.com/The_Gathering_Storm 41:49 – The Wildered Quest by Kate Elliott 46:33 – 2019 Overall 53:30 – Final Thoughts

On this episode of #QueerWOC, Money and Nikeeta are back from an unplanned break caused by white supremacist attacks at Syracuse University. We're both fine, but Kent gotta resign! We discuss fiction that inspires us to dream of other worlds, the #NotAgainSU movement and THE General Body, and being asked questions about hygiene on dates... because it wouldn't be Money's dating life without the weird! Where to find us: IG & Twitter - @queerwocpod FB - https://www.facebook.com/QueerWOCpod/ Tumblr - www.QueerWOC.com Listen to us on Soundcloud, Stitcher, Castbox, PocketCasts Contribute to QueerWOC via CashApp: $QueerWOCPod Become a Patron: https://www.patreon.com/queerwocpod Love us out loud by doing The R’s: Rate, Review, Request, Repost, Retweet, and Reply! Use the hashtag #QueerWOC to talk all things the podcast Send us an email or submit your Curved Chronicles: QueerWOCpod@gmail.com QueerWOC of the Week: 00:05:54 *Robyn Crawford Dr. Edna https://www.thenation.com/article/debt-is-holding-black-americans-hostage/ https://decolonizationinaction.com/ Community Contributors: 00:15:21 Shoutout to the New Patrons Liali, Space, and LG Smalltown Shout outs: Greenbrae, CA; East Lansing, MI; and Bloomington, IN Shout to Missy for all of the amazing topic ideas (b/c lord knows we need ‘em) Email from Howie. Info on the Nap Ministry: https://thenapministry.wordpress.com/?fbclid=IwAR1f18kdJdFZWJ2FYs6oRu7RjgmFCItRSQ4EEx4ZZF3T2C1xxRZkpCCMaCs https://www.facebook.com/Thenapministry/ Mental Moment with Money 00:22:36 Money gives some fiction suggestions that will help you imagine another world! The Simplest Equation by Nicky Drayden https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/stitcher/levar-burton-reads/e/63173750 Sula by Toni Morrison Bitch Planet by Kelly Sue DeConnick Black Girl Love by Anondra Kat Williams Word 00:37:37 #NotAgainSU We discuss our history organizing against Kent's white supremacist campus climate at Syracuse University, and the wins the current undergrands have achieved through #NotAgainSU Topic: 01:30:57 Life updates. Nikeeta is in love with her job and her bae. Money... is tired! Curved Chronicle: 01:53:07 Is asking about personal hygiene typical for dating or is it a fat girl thing?

In her third novel, ESCAPING EXODUS, Nicky Drayden has set it in deep space, in which the fate of humanity rests on the slender shoulders of an idealistic and untested young woman—a blend of science fiction, dark humor, and magical realism.

A struggling college student gains new perspective on her studies from her classmate, who's come to study from another planet. This story was first published in Space and Time Magazine.  This episode is sponsored by The Great Courses (www.thegreatcoursesplus.com/LEVAR) and Native (www.nativedeodorant.com code: LEVAR).

Episode 194 of the Unspoken Realms podcast, featuring The Ascension of Reza by Nicky Drayden. The Ascension of Reza is the fifth story written for Ravnica Allegiance and focuses on the Azorius Senate To support Unspoken Realms, visit the Patreon page.  

Episode 193 of the Unspoken Realms podcast, featuring The Ledger of Hidden Fortunes by Nicky Drayden. The Ledger of Hidden Fortunes is the fourth story written for Ravnica Allegiance and focuses on the Orzhov Syndicate. To support Unspoken Realms, visit the Patreon page.  

In this episode, Nicky Drayden and Helen Ellis talk about books that captured their attention in big ways. This episode is sponsored by William Shakespeare’s Get Thee Back to the Future! and William Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Mean Girls by Ian Doescher. You can subscribe to Recommended in Apple Podcasts, Google Play, or in your podcast player of choice. The show can also be found on Stitcher here. A transcript of this episode is available here. Books Discussed: Temper by Nicky Drayden Nigerians in Space by Deji Bryce Olukotun After the Flare by Deji Bryce Olukotun Southern Lady Code by Helen Ellis Wifey by Judy Blume Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret by Judy Blume Forever by Judy Blume Lace by Shirley Conran The Other Side of Midnight by Sidney Sheldon Hollywood Wives by Jackie Collins The Lord Won’t Mind by Gordon Merrick

Episode 192 of the Unspoken Realms podcast, featuring The Principles of Unnatural Selection by Nicky Drayden. The Principles of Unnatural Selection is the third story written for Ravnica Allegiance and focuses on the Simic Combine. To support Unspoken Realms, visit the Patreon page.

Episode 191 of the Unspoken Realms podcast, featuring Rage of the Unsung by Nicky Drayden. Rage of the Unsung is the second story written for Ravnica Allegiance and focuses on the Gruul Clans. To support Unspoken Realms, visit the Patreon page.

Episode 190 of the Unspoken Realms podcast, featuring The Illusions of Child's Play by Nicky Drayden. The Illusions of Child's Play is the first story written for Ravnica Allegiance and focuses on The Cult of Rakdos. To support Unspoken Realms, visit the Patreon page.

Set in the far future where technology is not as prevalent and the technology that does exist, is lethal. Fina goes through great lengths to express her love for her husband until secrets revealed. A Stitch in Space-Time by Nicky Drayden can be found at DailyScienceFiction.com.Follow us atSoundcloud | Soundcloud.com/talesfromablackuniverseFacebook |Facebook.com/TalesfromablackuniverseTumblr |talesfromablackuniverse.tumblr.comTwitter| @TalesFromABlackUHelp keep the mic on at:Patreon.com/talesfromablackuniverseSupport the show (http://patreon.com/talesfromablackuniverse)

Content warning: This podcast may not be suitable to audiences of good taste. The 'Goyfs discuss the Azorius story by Nicky Drayden. This week's sponsor is Innovation Jam. Give the ‘Goyfs +1/+1 by using their affiliate link on Card Kingdom: www.CardKingdom.com/loregoyfs And become a ‘Goyf on Patreon: www.patreon.com/Loregoyfs Thank you, Yosh of Dangerous Audio, for editing.

Pteramander says trans rights! Grats to Autumn Burchett for winning the Mythic Championship. Since we recorded this episode before their historic victory, instead we are talking about Nicky Drayden's Orzhov story. This week's sponsor is Kaya Karate. Give the ‘Goyfs +1/+1 by using their affiliate link on Card Kingdom: www.CardKingdom.com/loregoyfs And become a ‘Goyf on Patreon: www.patreon.com/Loregoyfs Thank you, Yosh of Dangerous Audio, for editing.

Break free of your incubation sac, saddle up your Hydroid Krasis, and listen to this week's Simic episode featuring the Magic story by Nicky Drayden. This week's sponsor is Simic Shore. Sigh. Give the ‘Goyfs +1/+1 by using their affiliate link on Card Kingdom: www.CardKingdom.com/loregoyfs And become a ‘Goyf on Patreon: www.patreon.com/Loregoyfs Thank you, Yosh of Dangerous Audio, for editing.

Magic Story is finally back with Nicky Drayden's take on the Ravnica Allegiance guilds. This week we're covering the Rakdos story, catching up on listener questions, and reminding you about our new tier on Patreon that lets you listen to our recordings live on Thursdays at 7:00pm EST! If you enjoy The Vorthos Cast, consider supporting us on Patreon at www.patreon.com/thevorthoscast! 02:33 – Listener Question: Finished the Web Fiction. What to Read Next? Link: https://www.mtgsalvation.com/forums/magic-fundamentals/magic-storyline/649232-magic-storyline-resources-the-stories-and-lore-are 06:49 – Listener Question: Any Info about Ravnican Deities/Holidays? Link: https://magic.wizards.com/en/articles/archive/feature/wake-call-2006-02-22 11:38 – Listener Question: How Does the Ravnican Calendar Work? 15:18 – Magic Story: The Illusions of Child's Play Link: https://magic.wizards.com/en/articles/archive/magic-story/illusions-childs-play-2019-01-23 29:50 – Story Discussion and Speculation 37:10 – Final Thoughts

Dance with the death clowns, laugh at the powerful, and scream the truths no one wants to hear. Join the 'Goyfs for this Rakdos week. We begin with Nicky Drayden's latest Magic Story: THE ILLUSIONS OF CHILD'S PLAY. After a few words from our sponsor, Spiffy's Aftershow Cleaning, we return to talk about the Cult proper. Give the ‘Goyfs +1/+1 by using their affiliate link on Card Kingdom: www.CardKingdom.com/loregoyfs And become a ‘Goyf on Patreon: www.patreon.com/Loregoyfs Thank you, Yosh of Dangerous Audio, for editing.

The 'Goyfs interview Nicky Drayden, speculative fiction author and writer of the guild stories for Guilds of Ravnica and Ravnica Allegiance. She answers serious questions on writing craft, the inclusion of micro-aggression, and also whether she would prefer to fight fight 100 duck-sized Nicol Bolases or one Nicol-Bolas-sized duck. After the interview, the 'Goyfs reveal their podcasting plan for the episodes bridging the upcoming story desert with maximum flavor and fun. Give the ‘Goyfs +1/+1 by using their affiliate link on Card Kingdom: www.CardKingdom.com/loregoyfs And become a ‘Goyf on Patreon: www.patreon.com/Loregoyfs Thank you, Yosh of Dangerous Audio, for editing.

The 'Goyfs sit round a big card table, tuck their extra playmats under their chins, and dig into an extra heaping of Selesnya story by Nicky Drayden. In part two, the Green goobers share all they're thankful for in Magic. This episode is sponsored by Smalley's Wurmopedic. Give the ‘Goyfs +1/+1 by using their affiliate link on Card Kingdom: www.CardKingdom.com/loregoyfs And become a ‘Goyf on Patreon: www.patreon.com/Loregoyfs Thank you, Yosh of Dangerous Audio, for editing.

The ‘Goyfs gab about the grisly glory of Death's Precious Moments by Nicky Drayden and how it's really a Project Runway: Golgari. In the second segment, the ‘Goyfs give a how-to about becoming a lich. And, honestly, aren't liches just misunderstood? Then they talk about the new flavor of the boxtoppers of UMA, which stands for Ultimate Masters and has nothing to do with Uma Thurman. NOTHING, YOU FOOLS! This episode is sponsored by Mushroom of the Month. Give the ‘Goyfs +1/+1 by using their affiliate link on Card Kingdom: www.CardKingdom.com/loregoyfs And become a ‘Goyf on Patreon: www.patreon.com/Loregoyfs Thank you, Yosh of Dangerous Audio, for editing.

Join the 'Goyfs in a retelling of Clans and Legions by Nicky Drayden, or: Halo and Horns, a buddy cop drama between one up-and-coming minotaur and a down-on-her-luck angel. In the second part, the 'Goyfs admit which Magic cards scare them---which cardboard shuffles their nerves the wrong way--which foils causes their psyches to warp. This week's episode is sponsored by Legionnaire's Appliances. Give the ‘Goyfs +1/+1 by using their affiliate link on Card Kingdom: www.CardKingdom.com/loregoyfs And become a ‘Goyf on Patreon: www.patreon.com/Loregoyfs

Nothing says true love like selective memory loss. Join the 'Goyfs this week in our reenactment of Nicky Drayden's Magic Story Under Cover of Fog. Our returning sponsor for this episode is House Dimir. We have nothing bad to say about that guild. Nope. Definitely not. Great people. Well dressed, too. Great coats. Put a few gold coins in Michelle's Chalice: https://thechalice.causevox.com/michelle-rapp Give the ‘Goyfs +1/+1 by using their affiliate link on Card Kingdom: www.CardKingdom.com/loregoyfs And become a ‘Goyf on Patreon: www.patreon.com/Loregoyfs

A special episode of Unspoken Realms...sort of. This episode features Under the Cover of Fog by Nicky Drayden - the first story written for Guilds of Ravnica. The Guilds of Ravnica stories are similar to the Gatecrash stories I've been recording recently - instead of being the main storyline, they're slice-of-life glimpses into Ravnica. At the start of the episode you'll hear I'm stepping back from recording the new Magic stories; the story in this episode is instead read by Carolyn Page, who has been recording a podcast similar to Unspoken Realms for the past year. If you enjoy her work, subscribe to her podcast and let her know! In my intro I also mention the other long-running Magic Story podcast, Voice of All. It's a very different style than the simple audiobook format I prefer - more audio drama/radio play - but one you might enjoy as well.  Thank you so much for listening and all your encouragement over the years. 

Steve and Blake talk about Magic Story with our most recent writers, Cassandra Khaw and Nicky Drayden.

Amanda and Jenn discuss light nonfiction, novels in verse, thrillers, and more in this week's episode of Get Booked. This episode is sponsored by Temper by Nicky Drayden and Book Riot Insiders.   Feedback:   The Translator's Invisibility: A History of Translation by Lawrence Venuti The Translator by Nina Schuyler   Questions:   1. I typically read fantasy/science fiction books, but I have recently been trying to branch out. So recently, I read Cork-Dork by Bianca Bosker, which I found both charming and informative. Can you recommend similar nonfiction books? When I say similar I don't necessarily mean the topic, but rather in style. I loved the experience of a light non-fiction book where I felt I was joining the author in their immersive learning process about a particular topic. I am not looking for anything that is emotionally heavy, but rather something that sparks the desire to learn about something new. Thank you, --Jessica   2. Hello Amanda and Jenn! (And possibly, Liberty and/or Rebecca!) I'm writing to request help with birthday gifts for my niece and nephew. They have birthdays in early September. 1) NIECE - She will be 6. She likes books but doesn't reach for them herself. If I'm reading a book out loud, she drops what she's doing and will come sit by me to listen to the story. She has an older sister who is a bookworm, and she feels left out if anyone talks about books and she can't join in. She has started learning to read and will sound out letters with her parents or me. But she is self-conscious about it and hasn't really learned to enjoy a story yet because of that. Despite these difficulties, she is a great little girl - so curious about the world! She is very quick at math, loves riddles, and is very extroverted. She loves to wear matching accessories with her dresses. She once told me that her most favorite thing in the world is to eat dinner every day with her family. 2) NEPHEW - He will be 4. He loves to be read to. He especially likes picture books with a good dose of facts with fiction, e.g. Pop's Bridge (his favorite). I would like to buy him another picture book about famous bridges. No car/train/plane/construction/emergency vehicle books, please. He has all of them and insists that he's moving on from that phase of life (we have our doubts based on observations but haven't said anything either way). Hope this request isn't too long! Thanks for your help! --Sel   3. Hello Ladies, I am curious if you could recommend any novels told in verse? I have recently read and enjoyed The Watch that Ends the Night and Long Way Down (which was excellent on audio as read by Jason Reynolds himself). When I was younger and much angstier, I also read and enjoyed several Ellen Hopkins books which, upon reflection, are in line with what I want in regards to form, but not content. Aside from avoiding exploitative melodrama, I don’t have any particular topics or genres in mind for this request. The Poet X is already on my list. Thank you for the show, which always keeps my TBR way too long! --April   4. Hello! I tend to read a lot of "literary" fiction, but I love a page-turning psychological thriller every now and then. Unfortunately, all the thrillers I read seem to be by white (usually British, but sometimes American) women. Can you please recommend some twisty thrillers by people of color (still women, if possible!)? Just to clarify, I have read and enjoyed authors including Attica Locke and Sujata Massey, but I'm looking for more of a pure thriller (along the lines of B.A. Paris, Clare Mackintosh, etc.) - something fun and easy to read, not a cerebral mystery. I know you addressed a similar question for mysteries a few weeks ago, which really helped my TBR, but still didn't quite hit my thriller fix. Thanks! --Megan   5. My sister loved The Heart's Invisible Furies by John Boyne and she is pining for another long drawn out depressing story (my take ;)). She also loves East of Eden and The Awakening. Thanks! --Maggie   6. I'm a fairly recent romance reader, and I have a few go-to authors (Courtney Milan, Tessa Dare, Rose Lerner, Alyssa Cole, Alisha Rai come to mind immediately). I've recently been reading Courtney Milan's Worth series, and Alisha Rai's Forbidden Hearts series. I love them both, and the thing that has drawn me in the most isn't so much the romantic relationships, but the family dynamics, secrets, and intrigues. I'm especially a sucker for reunion scenes with lost or estranged family members. Do you know of other romance series that center around families with similar themes? If it wasn't clear from my list of authors, I have a strong preference for romance with a feminist bent. Any romance subgenre is good. --Leslie   7. Most of the time I prefer more “serious” novels, but when I’m in a reading slump (or just exhausted from a heavy book), I like to pick up quick indulgent reads to get me back on track. The last few times this has happened, I’ve picked books like Kiera Cass’s The Selection series and Jillian Dodd’s Spy Girl series. Unfortunately, both have kind of let me down—I love the premises: strong female lead, escapist settings, some political conspiracy, sort of wish fulfillment-y in that a “regular” girl ends up hanging out with royalty, etc. However, I feel like these books miss so many opportunities to really be amazing: the girls get so caught up in the romances that the political intrigue gets put on the back burner (though I don’t mind some romance!), they are very white/heteronormative, and the lead (especially in The Selection) doesn’t have much of a growth arc even though the story totally sets up the possibility. Can you recommend some similar but, uh, better options? Doesn’t have to be YA (maybe that’s part of my problem) or series but should be something I can read in only a few sittings! Thanks! --Carol   Books Discussed: Trail of Lightning by Rebecca Roanhorse Changeless by Gail Carriger The Earth Moved by Amy Stewart I Contain Multitudes by Ed Yong Here to There and Me To You by Cheryl Keely Zita the Spacegirl by Ben Hatke Inside Out and Back Again by Thanhha Lai Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson The Lost Ones by Sheena Kamal Yesterday by Felicia Yap Pachinko by Min Jin Lee Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi Sweet Tea and Sympathy (Southern Eclectic #1) by Molly Harper It Takes Two to Tumble (Seducing the Sedgwicks #1) by Cat Sebastian Forest of a Thousand Lanterns by Julie C. Dao The Bone Witch by Rin Chupeco

We discuss The Prey of Gods by Nicky Drayden and the first volume of the rebooted Young Avengers, Style > Substance. Then we chat with Martha Wells, author of one of our favorite novellas of 2017, All Systems Red. 🐝You can read a transcript of this episode! 🐝 Feedback & Updates; 01:16 Smugglivus 2017 The […] The post Fangirl Happy Hour, Episode #105 – Gods & Monsters appeared first on Fangirl Happy Hour.

Chaos, crap, and community, oh my! Paul is joined by Elizabeth Fitzgerald, the newest member of the Skiffy and Fanty Team, to talk to the wonderful Cat Rambo, Nicky Drayden, and C.B. Lee about National Novel Writing Month! The group discuss their experiences with NaNoWriMo, including how they first got involved, what processes they use […]

In today's episode of Signal Boost, Nicky Drayden (a debut author!) joins Stina (in her debut as host!) to talk about the crazy genre mash-up, The Prey of Gods, the journey to becoming a debut author, and how she's working on a pipeline to encourage Black speculative fiction writers through ArmadilloCon. Then, Jen is joined […]

  Episode 38 is part of the Spring 2017 issue! Read ahead by picking up your copy here: http://www.glittership.com/buy/     She Shines Like a Moon by Pear Nuallak   It's cold in London but you glow with warmth. You travel limbless and limned from your core, throat crossed with black silk just as it was in your first days. Yes, you were naked then, washed clean in monsoons, dried by storm winds. When was the last time your sly hunt was wreathed in rice flowers? Do you recall how dtaan-tree fronds stroked your secret self as you rose, star-bound?   Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip episode 40 for May 23, 2017. This is your host, Keffy, and I'm super excited to be sharing these stories with you.   Today we have two reprints, "She Shines Like A Moon" by Pear Nuallak and "The Simplest Equation" by Nicky Drayden.   Pear Nuallak is a writer and illustrator whose work has appeared in Interfictions, Unlikely Academia, and The Future Fire. Born in London and raised by Bangkokian artists, they studied History of Art jointly at SOAS and UCL, specializing in Thai art. Thai and British recipes appear semi-regularly on their food blog, The Furious Pear Pie, and they have an upcoming illustration this summer in Lackington's magazine. Nicky Drayden is a Systems Analyst who dabbles in prose when she's not buried in code. She resides in Austin, Texas where being weird is highly encouraged, if not required. Her debut novel The Prey of Gods is forthcoming from Harper Voyager this summer, set in a futuristic South Africa brimming with demigods, robots, and hallucinogenic hijinks. She Shines Like a Moon by Pear Nuallak   It's cold in London but you glow with warmth. You travel limbless and limned from your core, throat crossed with black silk just as it was in your first days. Yes, you were naked then, washed clean in monsoons, dried by storm winds. When was the last time your sly hunt was wreathed in rice flowers? Do you recall how dtaan-tree fronds stroked your secret self as you rose, star-bound? Now your London home shivers you into clothes. A length of black at your neck doesn't suffice; you add to old habits—night journeys sensibly hatted, the frank, coiled shapes below your neck wrapped in silk layered with batting and wool, each piece hand-made by the wearer herself. No other clothier would believe your particular sensitivities; only krasue know krasue. (You make a fine new flying outfit each season. You like having things, you're the lord and lady of things.) London's cross-hatched with forgotten waterways, the Krungthep of the Occident, murky and decadent. The Heath hides the Fleet in its hills, earth over arteries water-fat; it surfaces as a rivulet, gleams and whispers and winks knuckle high in leaf-lined silt before it talks away, louder and deeper into the festering heart of the city, but you drink it here, the source. The tumulus field brings food best savoured like an egg with bael-sap yolk—slowly, thoughtfully, the red of it so rich on your tongue after eating bland pale without. In the viaduct pond you dump his fixie and clean your face. After the meal you play with foxes. Your city friends have great thumping tails, on hind legs they yelp delightedly. (When you first heard sharp cries in the hills you thought it was another krasue. Foxes came instead, sniffed you wonderingly, ears flicking. You didn't find each other appetising in the least. Their company is brief, precious: city foxes live a year each.) You peer into the Hollow Oak. When you were new here you asked your first fox friend, lovely old Chalk Scrag, if this was their den. No, friend, no—my burrow smells like forest all dark and close, she says. This smells like witch. One day I will show you the best smells of my home, yes, yes, but not that witch tree, no; that is hers to show. You wonder if she's shy. You think about whether she's a person who also knows what it's like to be apart from others. Under the bark and earth there's always the smell of black tea and sugared fruit, sometimes cake, sometimes curry. That one's never come out, says Liquorice Grin, who counts Chalk Scrag as eightieth great-grandparent. She is busy. Leaves us gifts, but never comes out to play with us like you do, friend. Four score years you've hunted here and no corner of Heath is unexplored but this. (You're shy, too.) Before setting off home, you linger by the Oak as you always do. She is shy, she is busy, but you can ask. So for a change, tonight you say, “Your home smells wonderful,” into the hollow. Your eerie heart beats strong as you fly home. Strong teeth and supple tongue open the night-hatch to your flat. You shed your flying clothes and look at yourself on the bed; in your own light you consider the soft limbs, the clean red hollow between your shoulders. What are you truly hungry for? You enfold your secret self with a body that accepts you neatly and completely. The black silk remains at your throat. It is good to lay your head on the pillow. In the morning your longer self stretches her limbs, washes, thinks about being 'she' as she pulls on a turquoise jumper, so good on skin the colour of tamarind flesh, a long skirt in pig's blood, Malvolio tights, black boots laced up. Before a mirror she wanders her hands over the pleasing stubble on the back and sides of her head, dressing the length on top into a sleek pompadour. (Your grandmothers' hairstyle is now subculture fashionable but you wear it anyway, you're the age of two grandmothers together and want to remember what you had.) The morning walk to the cafe brings smells from the flats: running water and clean skin, burnt toast, bacon fat sizzling, hot dusty radiators. There's strange comfort in witnessing others' routines. Coffee is taken quickly before the man with a rough-haired jack comes for his—tame dogs never like you, the cafe's too small for a scene. For two decades you've been teaching. You like interaction structured around things you know and love, boundaries defined. Every 5 years you make yourself move; you enjoy this while you can. Knitting today. To make the cowl you've planned, students discard needles and knit like this: thick yarn knotted onto wrists, loops drawn over fists, wool on skin, weaving on flesh. Your students' concentration is your delight; it staves the hunger somewhat. Once you tended silkworms and cotton bolls, had a great loom under the belly of your stilt house; your family once wore the fabric you grew, span, wove. Now it's only you, the narrowness of your single self. (But the cowls will warm your students, so this will do.) That evening returns you to your alma mater. Female Abjection and the Monstrous Feminine in Thai Cinema, the email said. Open to all. It's sure to be diverting. You've not yet been to the Bloomsbury buildings—when you studied languages, it was the School of Oriental Studies at 2 Finsbury Circus and you were a man hatted and trousered, as it sometimes suits your fancy. The institution's re-invented itself: cosmopolitan, international, politically active, inclusive.  (Coy about its hand in training Empire: to control a people you know their tongues, their hearts.) You sit and are lectured on a self Othered through others' eyes.  Except for one Thai man, the lecturer cites theorists and academics like her, white and Western. She says, “There are no feminists in Thailand—Thai women don't really identify as feminists; it's just not done. People talk about South-East Asian women having power and ownership, but…” she shrugs. (It's never occurred to the lecturer to ask what a Thai woman thinks of herself, let alone a krasue's view of her own condition.) You think of spitting in her tea. Wouldn't make much difference to the taste; your lips are primed. But her words will survive a thousand years: she's adding to the sum of human knowledge. She doesn't need your curse—no, it wouldn't make much difference at all. There is loyalty, still, though you've been here so long and it's your countrywomen who fear you most, who have always kept their distance from you, who would reject and destroy and silence you instantly if they knew your tastes. But you were made by them. You are their monster. It's hard to believe others would believe you. The hunger you've mastered, mostly, but grieving anger and loneliness thunders through your whole interior. You suck your teeth and go home, fill yourself with sweet warm rice. A collection on your kitchen shelves: rice scraped white, rice left red or brown or black, rice so delicious wives forget husbands. (Is it good or bad you've only found husband-forgetting rice? Perhaps men are more easily forgotten by wives. You've no inclination for husbands: the sum of your knowledge on this subject is that they're common.) Once your fork and spoon are closed, an invitation appears, curling hand tracing bright in the air: You are invited to A Midnight Cake Tasting for the delight of the Witch Ambrosia at the Hollow Oak, Hampstead Heath You hesitate, chewing your lip. Perhaps she's only inviting you out of kindness, politeness, obligation. Perhaps she won't be there. Perhaps this is a trick. But she's asked, and you accept. You go as yourself, your honest, smallest self. When the clock strikes the hour you hover, unsure. “Come in, love, I've been waiting so long,” says Ambrosia. The witch leads you in, steps winding like shell chambers into the earth. Her home smells like a home should, is full of things neatly kept, herbs bunched, cables sorted. In the lamp light you see her fine umber self dressed in a gown of fresh plum, face framed with raincloud hair in a thousand braids. You know at once she is splendid. “Oh, is that for me?” she says as you give her a rich saffron scarf. Thanks is a gentle touch to your cheek. The table is spread. Together you enjoy black rum cake and rose-bright sorrel, dark fruits wondrously spiced. You begin with, “I thought I'd say hello.” “So did I,” says Ambrosia, “it was about time.” “Will you come with me tonight?” (why are you so awkward, what could she possibly—) “I was thinking you'd never ask,” she smiles. Up above, Liquorice Grin says, Ah, you've brought a new lovely friend. You dance together, fox fur coppered in ghost light. Ambrosia shines like a moon. Your heart shouts. You are full up of her. The Simplest Equation by Nicky Drayden   I'm doodling in the margins of my Math 220 syllabus when she walks into the classroom like a shadow, like a nothing, like an oil slick with pigtails. She scans the empty seats in the most calculating manner and I shudder when she spots the one next to me. Her knees bend all the wrong ways in her jeans as she walks up my aisle, and her head is a near perfect ellipsoid that could've fallen out of any geometry primer. She sets her backpack on the floor between us, then maneuvers into the chair with the grace of a lame giraffe. "I hope I'm in the right place," she says as she finally settles—her English impeccable, though she exhales the words more than speaks them, typical of her kind. "Partial Differential Equations?" I nod, trying not to notice all those rows of tiny pointed white teeth crammed into her mouth, but then she smiles and it becomes impossible not to. I swallow hard, somehow managing to extend my hand. "I'm Mariah," I say, my eyes tracing along the brown of my skin until it intersects the blue-black of hers. "Kwalla," she says. "Two syllables. Not like the bear." I force a laugh. It comes out easier than expected. "Nice doodle," she says, looking at the squares and swirls and meandering lines. "Very symmetrical." "Mmm..." I purse my lips and cock my head, then with a single tap on the screen, I reset my syllabus to its virginal form. She's not the first Ahkellan I've met. There are a couple hundred here on campus. They come to Stanford when they can't get into Vrinchor Academy or Byshe, or any of the other prestigious schools in their system. Bring us your next best brightest, has become our new school motto. Yale, Harvard, and the other Ivy League schools split a couple dozen Ahkellans between them, but California's consistent temperatures are much more appealing to a race that goes into involuntary stasis when the weather dips below forty-three degrees. After brief introductions, Professor Gopal drones on about semilinear equations. I listen and take notes attentively, afraid to let anything slip past me. I used to love math. Now it's the bane of my existence, always more of the same lifeless problems. But I've got too many credits and too little money to think about changing majors now. So I buckle down and frequently pull all-nighters just to squeak by with Bs. I glance over at Kwalla who's busy solving problem sets on her notebook, two chapters ahead of the professor already. This class is probably a joke to her, just a way to rack up a few credits before applying for an interstellar transfer. But she seems pleasant enough, and none of the other Ahkellans I've met have ever shown anything that resembled a sense of humor, or an appreciation for art for that matter. "Hey," I whisper, keeping the resentment out of my voice. "You looking for a study partner?" Kwalla nods, then smiles at me again. I desperately resist the urge to protect my soft spots.   #   Every Tuesday and Thursday evening, we meet at Meyer Library, hustling through the stacks for table space among towers of old, dusty books. When my grades slip, we add another study session Saturday afternoons in her dorm room. It smells vaguely of sandalwood, and the paneled doors of her closet are neatly lined with posters of angst-ridden Ahkellans. Their slick, black faces are dour and their postures nonchalant—reminiscent of late twenty-first century brood bands, stuff my parents used to listen to. We sit cross-legged on her bed... well, I sit cross-legged, and she sits in some variation of the lotus position that teeters on an optical illusion with all those joints of hers. Our notebooks are spread out between us. Kwalla's explaining Fourier transforms to me for the third time, and we're both beyond frustrated. I try to listen, but my mind drifts, and before I know it I've created a doodle that spans half the page, covering the miniscule amount of calculations I'd started. Kwalla sees and makes a purring sound I've come to recognize as mild irritation. "Sorry," I grumble. I lean back against the wall and stare out the window at her prized lake view of Lagunita. Students horseplay on its shore, blue-gray water lapping at their ankles. They laugh, living life and enjoying the "college experience," while I'm cooped up in here, breathing stale circulated air and staring at integral curves until my eyes bleed. I heave a sigh. "Maybe I should drop the class. Drop out of college. Drop off the face of the Earth while I'm at it." Kwalla smirks. "You're depressed. Good." "Good?" I slam my notebook shut, turn away from her, and fume like a shuttle on its launch pad. Just when I was beginning to think she was a pretty decent person, or Ahkellan. Or whatever. "Yes, it means you're close to understanding the story of this equation. It's a classic tale of love and loss. It's meant to be depressing, yet beautiful at the same time." I roll my eyes as she resets to a clean page and starts the equation again. She works downward, shuffling constants and variables, swaying like a concert pianist. When she's done, a single tear trickles down her cheek. She glances up at me and notices that I'm crying, too. "You saw the story this time?" she asks with hopefulness in her voice. I slowly shake my head, more confused now than ever. "Not even close. I was just trying to figure out how to tell my parents that I've wasted their hard-earned money and the last two and a half years of my life. I hate math." Kwalla recoils as if my mathematical slur negates her very existence. "You shouldn't say things like that." "Give me a break," I say, rubbing my eyes. "I might not get your 'stories' but you don't get how incredibly hard this is for me. I wasn't born a genius like you, solving proofs while still in the womb." From the grit in my words, I expect Kwalla to ask me to leave, but instead she lays a spindly hand on my knee. "I've worked hard to get here, Mariah, but what you say is partially true. Math is our first language, and we crave it when we're born like you crave your mother's milk. It is our first friend. Our first love. Our first everything." Kwalla pauses, face riddled with uncertainty, then draws a black pouch from her backpack. She unties the drawstring and slips a large, tear-shaped crystal into the palm of her hand. Hundreds of facets speckle the ceiling with light, so beautiful. "I've never shared this with anyone," she says timidly. "It's amazing..." "I haven't even started yet," she says with a laugh, then leans close so I can get a better look. Foreign symbols are etched into each cut side of the crystal. "It's a yussalun, a calling piece. It's similar to your auditory instruments, except... well, it's probably easier just to show you." Kwalla holds the piece up in front of her like a trumpet, but several inches away from her mouth. Her thin fingers tap across the facets and the air above the piece crystallizes into an intricate fractal pattern, a living snowflake that blooms sideways and then stretches for the ceiling with all its might. Buds gracefully unfurl to the rhythm of an inaudible beat, stirring up a sense of wonder within me. Then the ice crystals slow, becoming thinner and more delicate until they peter out with a hopelessness that fills me with inexplicable grief. "That was the equation we've been working on," she says after we've both had a chance to catch our breath. "Now do you see?" I nod, feeling wounded and vulnerable. There's a terrible rawness inside my chest that I wouldn't wish on anyone, and yet I crave more. I need more. "Do another," I whisper. So she shares her favorite stories with me, and together we sit pensive for mysteries, hold our breath for thrillers, and giggle at the titillation of cheap romance—each fractal evoking an emotion, pure and intense and untamed. After the sun no longer shines through her window, each fractal leaves a slight chill in the air, so we slip halfway under the covers and Kwalla shares with me a fractal with a perfect heart at its base that dazes me with childlike joy—an equation simple enough to solve itself. Then we throw the covers over our heads and I can't tell where I end and she begins, so I giggle and Kwalla giggles, then she laughs, and I laugh.   #   Our professor posts the scores to our midterm exam outside the classroom door. With great trepidation, I type in the last four digits of my student ID and the page slowly scrolls down, pointlessly melodramatic. My finger shakes as I trace my way across the screen over failure and mediocrity and more failure until I reach the grade for last week's exam. My chest explodes with delight when I see the 98.5. I'm so giddy I can barely stay seated as I wait for Kwalla to arrive. Thanks to her, I've rediscovered my passion for math. I busy myself solving practice problems that tell tales of triumph in the face of adversity. I'll pick the best one and share it with Kwalla tonight. In these last couple weeks, she's taught me how to play her yussalun, turning water molecules in the air into icy fractals the size of a toy poodle, though mine pale in comparison to hers. The bluntness of my fingertips makes it difficult to tap the right facets, but what I lack in accuracy I make up for in perseverance. I've caused more than my fair share of fractals to wilt, however, when I get it right, math and story collide, forming something exponentially more magnificent than the sum of its parts. Her seat is still empty. I wait as long as I can stand it, then ditch class a few minutes into Professor Gopal's lecture. The phone rings and rings as I race to Kwalla's dorm. Through her door, I can hear her speaking in an Ahkellan dialect sounding something like a rooster trying to fog up a mirror. A deeper voice follows with the tin ring of an IVT, an instantaneous voice transmission, cheapest way to call intragalaxy. Against my better judgment, I knock softly. Kwalla answers with an uncontainable smile, and nods for me to have a seat at her desk. Her conversation stretches on for another ten minutes, and as she paces barefoot across the blue carpet, I admire all the ways her legs bend from beneath her skirt, and how the fluorescent light overhead glints on her skin—like iridescent rainbows set adrift across the night's sky. "I can't believe it!" she shrills after she finally disconnects. "It couldn't be more perfect! I've been accepted, Mariah. I'm going to Byshe!" "That's wonderful!" I say, and despite the rip in my heart, I really mean it. Getting into Byshe is worse odds than matching all the balls in the Bippho Trans-Galactic pick-twelve. Optimism has never been my strong suit, but maybe if I study hard and get my grades up, I could apply to Byshe next year. Kwalla could tutor me the rest of this semester and maybe even a few weeks into the summer. I nod to myself, impervious to the laws of probability and blissfully ignoring the fact that I can barely afford out-of-state tuition, much less out of solar system. "I've got some news, too," I say. Kwalla sits down next to me, and her eyes get wide and glassy. "You passed!" "Nu-uh. I nearly aced it!" "This calls for a celebration!" She pulls her yussalun out from its pouch and hands it to me. "Here, you play something nice while I pack." Her voice trails off at the end, a whirlwind of excitement deflated by a sudden prick from reality. "Pack?" "If I don't catch the next shuttle up ..." Kwalla says, voice pitched high and words running together as she tries to stitch together some sort of excuse for wanting to get the hell out of here. I don't blame her, not with the life she has waiting for her across the stars. Kwalla tilts her head forward, and after a weighty silence, she leans against my shoulder. "I'm leaving for Byshe in the morning."   #   I can't let her go without showing her how I feel, so after she's fallen asleep, I slip out of bed and onto a spot on the floor where moonlight from her window falls across my dimly backlit notebook. I work through the whole night, scribbling down the story of us, the fun we've had in our short time together, and all the could-have-beens for our future. It becomes unwieldy, our equation, and even with the tiniest font, it still won't fit on one screen. By the time I finish, my fingers are cramped, my brain is tight, and I can barely see straight. But the story is magnificent, engrossing, tragic. Careful not to wake her too soon, I cradle the yussalun in my hands and prepare to share. Our story takes nearly thirty minutes to play, and when I'm done, I sit back and let it expand into the room. Two concentric buds sleepily emerge and form a base, then sprout three arms each, spiny like a starfish. They curl and coil, each arm to the beat of its own drummer. I marvel at the beginnings of their different stories, and my heart flutters as I try to keep up with them simultaneously. At a meter high, I start to rouse Kwalla so she can see it as the first bits of sunlight shimmer across the fractal's crystalline surface, but just as I lay a soft hand on Kwalla's shoulder, the fractal begins to wilt. It steals my breath as I watch, my mind churning over the equation, wondering if I'd made a bad calculation or misplayed a note. But I couldn't have made a mistake, not on something this important. All at once, the arms spiral up with the grace and might of a dancer, recursive shapes predictable yet mesmerizing. My creation reaches for the ceiling, and I grin in anticipation of the final blossom, but the fractal is thickening like an insatiable sapling and not tapering into delicate buds. I exhale and my breath lingers in the air, coldness striking through my nightshirt as I realize this thing is far from stopping. "Kwalla!" I scream, lips cracked from the moisture being sucked from the air. She doesn't respond and I shake her. Kwalla stirs for a moment, as if trying to fight through impending stasis, but then she goes still. I take a swing at the fractal with her desk chair, smashing off one of the frosty tendrils, but it grows back with a vengeance until all is symmetrical again. Logic gives way to adrenaline and I scoop Kwalla's body up into my arms. "Fire!" I say, over and over through the hallways at the top of my lungs, figuring it will draw more attention than yelling "fractal!" Someone pulls the alarm, and we all scatter outside and across the street. I rub warmth back into Kwalla's limbs as onlookers wait for signs of smoke and flames. Of course they never come, and when rumors start circulating about a prank, I think that maybe I'd overreacted. An explosion of terra cotta tiles silences those thoughts as the fractal pierces the roof of Kwalla's dormitory. Exposed to the night air and the moisture from the nearby lake, the fractal accelerates, busting brick and shattering glass. It's odd, but no one panics or frets over lost possessions. We just watch, completely captivated. The fractal doesn't slow until it's demolished both wings of Lagunita Court and the adjacent parking lot, and even then, it's not quite finished. A single thin stalk stretches up for the stars, and it reaches, reaches, reaches—wispy recursions sprouting like a vine on its way to the stratosphere. With some effort, I pull my gaze away and watch the crowd. There's not a dry eye to be found, including Kwalla's, her body cradled comfortably against mine. "I had no idea," she exhales weakly, "...that you felt so deeply. It's the most incredible story I've ever seen." "I'll miss you," I say before she has a chance to make well-meaning promises we both know it'd be impossible to keep. I savor this moment, because in a few hours, she'll be on a plane to Houston, just one small step on her long journey home.   #   There's a flurry of media coverage and threats of my expulsion, but the Board of Trustees changes its tune when news of the fractal reaches Ahkel and impresses even their most renowned intellectuals. Suddenly I'm no longer a disgraceful delinquent, but one of Stanford's brightest scholars, and any blemishes on my academic record are written off as me being a genius misunderstood in my own time. I laugh at their antics. At least it distracts me long enough for the numbness inside me to fade. A week later, my phone hums in my pocket while I'm doodling in Professor Gopal's class. I fish it out so I can check the caller ID. My heart slips to my toes when I see it's an IVT number, and I scramble out of the classroom on rubbery legs. "Hello?" I say into my phone. "Hello?" I say again, harder this time, as if it'll get my words across subspace faster. There's only a slight time dilation, but the seconds drag on like days. I hang onto the sounds of rustling static, waiting for Kwalla's voice. Only it's not Kwalla. My disappointment is short lived, however, when the caller identifies herself as the dean of the Mathematics department at Vrinchor Academy. She says she's eager for the opportunity to take a closer look at how I derived my equations, and that if I'm interested, there's a spot for me in the upcoming school year, full scholarship. I don't bother holding back my elation, and even though a billion miles separate us, I'm sure the dean's ear will be ringing for days. I return to class and respectfully gather my belongings, though my classmates couldn't have missed my screams. I nod at Professor Gopal, and he smiles knowingly. I can't believe I'll be living a dream, studying under the best minds in the galaxy, devouring math in all its forms. And of course it doesn't hurt that I'll be a quick shuttle's ride from Kwalla, just two planets away. I race across campus, cutting through manicured lawns, dodging traffic, and pushing myself through the knot of tourists gathered in front of our fractal. I fall to my knees, chest heaving and smiling wider than any sane person ought to. My warmed skin braces me against the deep chill the fractal emits. Despite my best efforts not to look like a complete fool, I still draw stares and the attention of a camera lens or two. From the corner of my eye, I swear I see our fractal moving. Changing. Of course that's impossible after all this time—probably just an odd reflection of sunlight or the shadow of a passing cloud. Doesn't matter. I've got a date with destiny tonight: a passport to find, flights to book, a whole planet to say goodbye to and above all, I've got a new story that's itching to be told.   “She Shines Like a Moon” was originally published in Lackington's and is copyright Pear Nuallak, 2015. "The Simplest Equation" was originally published in Space and Time Magazine and is copyright Nicky Drayden 2014. This recording is a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license which means you can share it with anyone you’d like, but please don’t change or sell it. Our theme is “Aurora Borealis” by Bird Creek, available through the Google Audio Library. You can support GlitterShip by checking out our Patreon at patreon.com/keffy, subscribing to our feed, or by leaving reviews on iTunes. Thanks for listening, and I’ll be back soon with a poem by Joanne Rixon, and an original story by A.C. Buchanan.

The Prey of the Gods, published by Harper Voyager on June 13th, is Nicky Drayden‘s debut novel, though she’s published many short stories. It’s a compassionate work, despite a neglected blood-thirsty goddess and an ancient spirit who assaults women in their dreams, in order to father his brood. Though set in 2064, boys are still boys, impulsive, playful, and needing to be brave. Families are still families, with traditional grandfathers hoping to share their ways with their descendants, although elders and parents often pose the greatest danger. Boisterously mixing mythology and science fiction, the novel moves along from multiple perspectives, keeping the ball rolling. Be sure to pay attention to the old man’s story about the mythological offspring he had; it serves as a framework to understand various characters and their newly acquired powers. Between cross-dressing politicians, a fashion-obsessed demon, and a bot revolution, there’s never a dull moment in Cape Elizabeth. An extravaganza of monstrous hybrid beasts, theatrical costumes, and riotous battles. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The Prey of the Gods, published by Harper Voyager on June 13th, is Nicky Drayden‘s debut novel, though she’s published many short stories. It’s a compassionate work, despite a neglected blood-thirsty goddess and an ancient spirit who assaults women in their dreams, in order to father his brood. Though set... Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The Prey of the Gods, published by Harper Voyager on June 13th, is Nicky Drayden‘s debut novel, though she’s published many short stories. It’s a compassionate work, despite a neglected blood-thirsty goddess and an ancient spirit who assaults women in their dreams, in order to father his brood. Though set in 2064, boys are still boys, impulsive, playful, and needing to be brave. Families are still families, with traditional grandfathers hoping to share their ways with their descendants, although elders and parents often pose the greatest danger. Boisterously mixing mythology and science fiction, the novel moves along from multiple perspectives, keeping the ball rolling. Be sure to pay attention to the old man’s story about the mythological offspring he had; it serves as a framework to understand various characters and their newly acquired powers. Between cross-dressing politicians, a fashion-obsessed demon, and a bot revolution, there’s never a dull moment in Cape Elizabeth. An extravaganza of monstrous hybrid beasts, theatrical costumes, and riotous battles. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The Prey of the Gods, published by Harper Voyager on June 13th, is Nicky Drayden‘s debut novel, though she’s published many short stories. It’s a compassionate work, despite a neglected blood-thirsty goddess and an ancient spirit who assaults women in their dreams, in order to father his brood. Though set in 2064, boys are still boys, impulsive, playful, and needing to be brave. Families are still families, with traditional grandfathers hoping to share their ways with their descendants, although elders and parents often pose the greatest danger. Boisterously mixing mythology and science fiction, the novel moves along from multiple perspectives, keeping the ball rolling. Be sure to pay attention to the old man’s story about the mythological offspring he had; it serves as a framework to understand various characters and their newly acquired powers. Between cross-dressing politicians, a fashion-obsessed demon, and a bot revolution, there’s never a dull moment in Cape Elizabeth. An extravaganza of monstrous hybrid beasts, theatrical costumes, and riotous battles. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip episode 39. This is your host, Keffy, and I'm super excited to be sharing this story with you. GlitterShip is still running a little bit behind, but we're almost caught up ... just in time for me to run off to Ohio for a week and a half to get surgery. Those who know me won't be surprised to hear this, but essentially after years of waiting, more crowdfunding (since insurance wouldn't deign to cover gender affirming surgery despite NY state laws, ugh), and more waiting... my top surgery is just around the corner. It's possible that I'll have to release episode 40 in June along with 41 and 42... but I'll do my best to get it out on time. Or at least, almost on time. Back onto the episode... today we have a piece of original fiction by Susan Jane Bigelow, "Mercy." If you recognize Susan's name, it might be because we ran a reprint of her story, "Sarah's Child" last May. You can check that out in Episode 28, available at GlitterShip.com or via our feed.   Joyce Chng lives in Singapore. Her fiction has appeared in The Apex Book of World SF II, We See A Different Frontier, Cranky Ladies of History, and Accessing the Future. Joyce also co-edited  THE SEA IS OURS: Tales of Steampunk Southeast Asia with Jaymee Goh. Her alter-ego is J. Damask. She tweets as @jolantru. Susan Jane Bigelow is a fiction writer, political columnist, and librarian. She mainly writes science fiction and fantasy novels, most notably the Extrahuman Union series from Book Smugglers Publishing. Her short fiction has appeared in Strange Horizons, Apex Magazine, Lightspeed Magazine's "Queers Destroy Science Fiction" issue, and the Lambda Award-winning "The Collection: Short Fiction from the Transgender Vanguard," among others. She lives with her wife in northern Connecticut, and can be found at the bottom of a pile of cats.   Skyscarves/Aurora by Joyce Chng The colors come in sky scarves—I wait,My lover is coming.Pink, green and redTwisting—Above me, Festival of starssingsIt is a moving river—Silver path, curling, star stream Where the ships course,Tied to patterns of timeAnd of seasons. My lover is harvesting the essenceOf star light—hir time is linkedWith mine. My lover is comingAs the sky-scarves flutter,Like my emotions wavingIn the skies. Come back to me, my loveAnd we will dance as the starsdance. And now our original short fiction:   Mercy by Susan Jane Bigelow       The sea had taken them. Rion stood by the edge of the water, the waves curling around her bare, metal-and-plastic feet. She knelt by the water and placed her hand in. Sensors registered temperature, composition, motion. But they couldn’t find what Rion had lost. Here and there the remains of buildings stood like ghastly stick figures, silhouetted in the deepening cool of twilight. Rion stood and closed her eyes. She stretched her hands out and reached her sensors as far as they would go, but no. Nothing lived on this shore, now. She was alone. And so she lowered her arms and began walking, one step at a time, into the sea, until the water covered her head and she was gone.   The quake and then the wave had come so suddenly that there had been no time to react. Rion’s memories were a jumble of shaking ground, rushing water, crashing buildings and pitiful screams followed by a hollow, awful silence. She walked onward, her weight keeping her firmly on the bottom of the sea. All around her, she could see the shapes and forms of the shattered town, now submerged. The waters grew dark, so she switched on the lights on her head, heart, and hands. A face swam before her, and she started, afraid. A woman, eyes open and sightless, drifted there at the bottom of the ocean like so much debris. Her name had been Iona, and she’d been kind to Rion. She’d had a bright smile, a quick temper, and a tendency to laugh a little too loud and too long. She’d been happy. Rion whispered an apology to her, and touched her cool metal fingers to the woman’s stiff forehead. She shut her eyes, and stood again. She looked up, and saw debris floating high above. Some of it was shaped like humans, some not. There was no way to help them now. She kept walking through what had been her home. She had come to this small town by the sea to be away from the turmoil of the cities, and she had found both work and unexpected friendship. The humans here had been so welcoming and accepting, so unlike anywhere else she’d ever gone on this world. She shone her light around. It fell on the gap in the sea wall where the tsunami had broken through, and everything suddenly seemed to turn on its edge. She made her way to the wall, and then walked through and beyond it, her lights illuminating the way.   Fish swam all around her, attracted by her light, while little creatures scuttled across the bottom. She looked up, and her light couldn’t reach the surface. The sun had set, and; Rion was surrounded by frigid, suffocating darkness. What was she to do, now? She couldn’t stay here at the bottom of the sea forever. But she had no place to go back to on land. She sat down, then, on the rocks and sand, and switched her lights off. Rion’s sensors told her what she didn’t want to know about the sea all about her: it teemed with life. Life. Behind her there was so much death, and in front of her so much life. But what was she? What was an Artificial, compared to the dead she’d left behind and the sea creatures swimming all around her? At last, at last, she wailed in grief and empty fury at the dark waters. “Sovena! Sovena!” she cried to the planet. “Why? Why? Sovena, answer me!” And, for a wonder, the planet answered her. The ground shifted and a point far, far ahead of her blinked with a soft green glow. Daughter sei, said the vast network of artificial intelligence that was, for all purposes, the planet Sovena. A sei was a sentient artificial life form. Why do you cry to me? “Bring them back!” shouted Rion, wishing she could cry. But she had no tear ducts, no lungs, and no way of releasing this deep, sharp grief. The curse of her kind; suffering went on and on without relief. “Bring them back to me. Sovena, please! I tried so hard!” Tell me about them, said Sovena softly. Tell me of the people who drowned in my sea. “They fished,” said Rion, her voice shaking and distorted. “They made such beautiful things. They sang songs. And they baked bread for me—” She found she couldn’t continue, and keened softly at the rocks, putting her face in her hands. “Why did you kill them? Why?” The world shifts, said Sovena. The ground cracks and separates. My plates move, and cause the oceans to shudder. It is as it must be. “I know,” said Rion. “I know!” She gazed at the steadily blinking light far away in the shadows. “But please. Please bring them back. Humans have so many gods they cry out to… Artificials have nothing. But I have you. I have faith in you. Please. Please.” She bowed her head in prayer and supplication. “Please. I have lived a good life. Take me instead of them. At least give me a way to grieve for them!” Sovena said nothing for a long time. Then the ground seemed to move again, and she heard the planet whisper in her mind, Go back to the shore, daughter sei. “You’ll do nothing? You—of course not. You’re not a god. You’re just the planetary network become aware. Fine. Fine. I’ll go.” She stood, fury and sadness swirling around her in the cold depths. “They were good people. They didn’t deserve to die. I didn’t deserve to survive. I don’t understand. I don’t understand.” She turned and began to walk back through the darkness towards the remains of her home.   Rion’s head broke the water, and the first thing she saw were the stars, high above. She hauled herself out of the water, and sat there on the beach. And then she realized she wasn’t alone. Machines surrounded her. They all blinked with green lights. Some of them were aware, some not, but they all waited there for her. And then they moved into the sea. Overhead, more machines circled, then dove into the water near where the sea wall had been. The water lit up with light as the machines worked. Rion watched, hardly daring to move. And then the water began to drain out of the basin of the town. The sea wall rose again. Machines covered where the town had been. They had cleared a space at the center, and lined up two hundred still and silent figures. Rion stood, then, and walked to the center of the ruins. For you, for you, she thought, addressing the dead, and her thoughts were transmitted to the machines. They swarmed over the town, bringing the debris and ruins to create. For you! For you! “Dream in slumber, children of the sky,” whispered Rion, the first lines of an old funeral song. “To the stars we return, to the night we go.” And then the machines took up the song, each singing with its own voice. Send your soul back home Across the deep darkness of the wastes For grace and forgiveness we beg For mercy and love we ask Find old Earth at last, and come to rest. They finished their creation. Rion was about to thank them when a sharp pain pierced her. She fell to the ground in agony as tiny machines swarmed all over her, and laughed as she was remade. When the sun rose that morning on what had been the town of Fisherman’s Bounty, the light kissed the spires of a fragile, delicately-made temple. At the top sat a human woman, crying her newly-made heart out.   They found her, and fed and clothed her. She didn’t say who she was, and eventually they let the matter drop. She thought about hurling herself off the spire of the temple often during those first days. She was human, now. She would certainly join the people of the town in death. But then the wind would blow the smell of the sea to her nostrils, or the stars would shine brightly above, and she would curl her soft hands around the railing of the temple spire and say to herself: one more night. One night became two, and two nights became a week, then a month. Then the sun rose one morning, and Rion realized that she had decided to live.   Time passed, then, as it always did. Relief ships came and went. The temple spire where the town had been became a pilgrimage site for haunted family, grieving survivors of the quake from other places, and the curious and morbid. Rion got used to being organic. She found it difficult to remember to eat and wash and groom, and for a time she found it nearly impossible to find food and fresh water. She felt dirty and hungry much of the time, and sleep, when it came, was a terror. But, in time, she managed. She found that she became good at managing, at carrying on. She moved out of the rickety temple spire and into a small modular house the relief agency had left by the side of the sea. The visitors stopped coming after a while. No one rebuilt the town. Why would they? It was a graveyard. But Rion stayed. She grew her garden, she made trinkets to sell, and she lived. And in time, a craftswoman named Lanika who had lost friends and family in the flood came to the hill above the low plain where the town had been to find Rion there, waiting, the promise of a new family in her strong grip and windswept brow. And so fifty years went by.   The dawn was cool and the wind from the ocean was only a light, briny kiss. The summer had been kind, but the coolness that hung over the bay suggested the turn of the season. An aged, bent woman pushed the boat off the landing, and gingerly settled herself into it. And then she did what she’d feared to do for the last five decades; she set sail towards the middle of the sea. She sailed for hours, trying to remember where she had gone, what direction, how the sun had looked from deep under the water. But her memory was a loose, hollow thing, and she couldn’t hold the past as firmly as she once had. At last she came to a place that felt as good as any other. She set the offering papers on one of the small wooden boats Lanika crafted for mourners and the devout, put the boat on the undulating waters, and set it on fire. The boat sailed away, the offering papers with names written on each scrap crisping and blackening in the flames. And then Rion said her prayer. “Sovena,” she said. “Goddess. I know you’re there, somewhere under the water. Come and see an old woman who once followed you. Come and tell me why. “Sovena. Awake. Talk to me. Please.” She waited. For a long time, nothing happened. She started to get hungry; she had brought but little food and water with her. She waited anyway. And at last, as the sun slipped down below the horizon, she saw a green glow deep beneath the waves, slowly rising toward her. When the lights of whatever was down there had expanded to surround the boat and it was so close to the surface that she could reach down and touch it if she wanted, it stopped. Then there was a bubbling near her, and a silvery figure made of thousands of tiny crablike machines rose out of the water. Hello again, daughter human, said Sovena, her body writhing with the green-lit movement of its components. “I can hear you in my head,” said Rion, touching her temple. “How?” I left one small piece of you like you were, so that we could talk if you wished. “Ah,” said Rion, feeling a strange sense of betrayal. “I see.” It’s been many years, said Sovena, and Rion thought she sensed sorrow in the planetwide sei’s mental voice. “Tell me,” said Rion, her throat parched. “Why?” Her question could have meant many things, but Sovena understood at once. You grieved. And so I allowed you to mourn as you wished. “That’s not an answer,” said Rion, shaking her head as anger built. “I’ve thought about this for a long, long time. You left me on that tower, high above the waters. Did you ever think I’d come down from it?” No, said Sovena. “You gave me the ability to die,” said Rion. “That’s what you thought I wanted. To die like my friends had. Lungs full of water… to breathe the sea and sink!” Was that not what you wanted? Rion shook her head, tears brimming. She brushed them away with a calloused finger. “Of course it was.” But you are here. “I am,” Rion said, looking out over the darkening waters around her. “And I still don’t think you’ve told me. I think you always hid your true purpose from me. Why?” Sovena did not respond. Then the thousands of machines that made up the human shape of her walked slowly across the water, reaching out a hand. Rion took it, feeling the cool, wriggling life of the machines that comprised it. Tell me why you lived. “Because…” Rion began, then faltered. She tried again, and found herself unable to put what she felt into words. “Because I did,” she said eventually, frustrated. “Because sometimes you just go on, because the next day is going to happen and you might as well be there.” A long silence stretched between them. The waves rocked the boat, and somewhere sea birds called. I grieve, said Sovena then, and Rion’s eyes widened. “I thought you might,” she whispered. “Tell me.” Humans hate our kind. They hunt them, cast them out, forbid them from making more of themselves. I live only because they cannot find a way to destroy me. But I have lost so many sei, so many have been silenced at human hands. I miss their voices. Rion cupped her other hand over Sovena’s, trying to decide whether to be angry or comforting. “And so you wanted to see what I would do. How I would grieve.” Sovena said nothing, but Rion’s question was answered at last. She thought of her wife Lanika, her daughters, and her grandchildren. She thought of fifty years of heartbreak and love and struggle. Fifty years where the sun came up over the water each and every day. “You go on,” said Rion firmly. “Because you have no choice. And in time you learn to live with what has been lost.” Yes. Sovena pressed her other hand against Rion’s forehead, and she felt something trickling out of her brain. Information, perhaps. Her life. I understand, now. I did not then. I am sorry. Sovena gently pulled her hands away from Rion, and began to sink beneath the waves once more. “Wait,” said Rion, understanding dawning at last. “You. You did this, didn’t you? You flooded my town! It was you!” Sovena looked back at her, and Rion thought that she could sense an ancient guilt and sadness emanating from the suddenly still form. Be well, daughter human, she said at last. Do not come here again. I am not your god any longer. And with that she vanished below the sea, leaving Rion alone once more. “You’re no goddess,” Rion said to the vanishing green lights, her voice shaking with fury. “You’re a monster! Just like the humans always said!” But there was no response, not this time.   Rion floated there for a long time, watching the stars overhead and thinking.  Then she started back towards the shore. She sailed on through the night, letting the stars guide her, until at last the sky to the east began to lighten. She could see the high spire of the temple close by, and beyond it, the hill where her house was. Lanika waited there for her, staring hopefully out to sea as she absently carved the sides of another small offering-boat. And when the two of them met on the shore at last, as the first rays of sun kissed the top of the temple spire, Rion gathered her in her strong arms and buried her face in her wife’s salt-smelling neck and windblown hair. “Did you find out what you wanted to?” Lanika asked. Rion nodded, but she could find nothing to say. “I’m sorry,” Lanika told her, and kissed the top of her head. That night Rion went down to the shore again, after repeatedly reassuring Lanika that she wasn’t about to set out on the boat again, and sat near where the old sea wall had been. The outline of the temple called to her, and on impulse she walked to it and began, hesitantly, to climb. The structure was rickety and rusted, but the construction was solid. It bore her weight, and her muscles were still strong enough to haul her body up the long ladder. She reached the top at last, and sat in the place where she’d poured out her grief so long ago, trying to figure out what to do next. And as she looked out to sea she saw the last thing she’d expected; a small green light running beneath the waves. She watched, half-afraid, half-intent, as it drew closer. At last a small machine, its lights glowing green, reached the tower and began to climb. It crested the summit and sat in front of Rion, waiting. “Well,” said Rion. “I suppose you’re here to kill me?” The machine crawled up onto Rion’s shoulder and perched there. Rion, after a moment’s hesitation, allowed it to remain. I grieve, the voice of Sovena said in her mind. “You killed them,” said Rion. “You have no right to grieve!” I was so angry, said Sovena, her mental voice full of sorrow. Humans killed so many of my daughters. “So you killed some of them,” said Rion. “It wasn’t about me, was it? You were angry because humans were attacking Artificials and you shook the earth to kill an innocent town! One of the only places where humans and Artificials were actually getting along!”  I did. I should not have. I grieve. “And you want, what? Forgiveness? I can’t do that. They… they were so good to me. I still remember their faces. And they died for nothing!” Many of my sei have died for less. “That excuses nothing,” said Rion bitterly. “And you know it. So what do you want?” But Sovena didn’t respond. Rion took the small machine off her shoulder, cupping it in her hands. “Go back to the waters,” said Rion, fury ebbing. “I can’t punish you. I can’t forgive you.” But how will I go on? said Sovena, and her voice was almost plaintive. Rion almost threw the machine back down into the sea. But instead she sighed, the anger draining out of her at last. She lifted it to her lips, and kissed it gently. “You just do,” she said, and set it on the floor. She watched as it scuttled back down the tower and vanished into the waves. She stayed in the tower that night, watching the sea and the sky. No other machines came. And when the sun rose, Rion’s grief and anger and fury finally went out with the tide.   Rion never spoke to Sovena again. But she noticed eventually that the weather on the planet was a little less harsh, that natural disasters happened less often, and that life became just a little bit easier. It wouldn’t bring back the dead, and it wouldn’t change the past. But sometimes, thought Rion, it was the small miracles that mattered the most.     “Skyscarves/Aurora” is copyright Joyce Chng 2017. “Mercy" is copyright Susan Jane Bigelow 2017. This recording is a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license which means you can share it with anyone you’d like, but please don’t change or sell it. Our theme is “Aurora Borealis” by Bird Creek, available through the Google Audio Library. You can support GlitterShip by checking out our Patreon at patreon.com/keffy, subscribing to our feed, or by leaving reviews on iTunes. Thanks for listening, and I’ll be back soon with a reprints of "She Shines Like a Moon" by Pear Nuallak and "The Simplest Equation" by Nicky Drayden.

We’ve reached our 50 episode milestone! We’ll share some behind the scenes info about the podcast, and give you a preview of what you’ll be reading this summer. The episode finishes with what we’re reading this week. Books and other media mentioned in this episode: Ann’s picks: Magpie Murders by Anthony Horowitz (releases June 6)– Hercule Poirot series by Agatha Christie– Miss Marple series by Agatha Christie– Anthony Horowitz books– Foyle’s War (TV)– Midsomer Murders (TV) You’ll Never Know, Dear by Hallie Ephron (releases June 6) People We Hate at the Wedding by Grant Ginder (releases June 6) The Prey of Gods by Nicky Drayden (releases June 13) The Witches of New York by Ami McKay (releases July 11) Goodbye, Vitamin by Rachel Khong (releases July 11)– Lucky Peach (magazine) The Half-Drowned King by Linnea Hartsuyker (releases August 1)– Half a King by Joe Abercrombie See What I Have Done by Sarah Schmidt (releases August 1) Halle’s picks: The Alice Network by Kate Quinn (releases June 6)– The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah– Lilac Girls by Martha Hall Kelly The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid (releases June 13) Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body by Roxane Gay (releases June 13)– Roxane Gay books– Bad Feminist: Essays by Roxane Gay The Windfall by Diksha Bazu (releases June 27)– The Wangs vs. the World by Jade Chang Morningstar: Growing Up with Books by Ann Hood (releases August 1)– The Book That Matters Most by Ann Hood How to Find Love in a Bookshop by Veronica Henry (releases August 15)– Book Depository– Jenny Colgan books Young Jane Young by Gabrielle Zevin (releases August 22)– The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry by Gabrielle Zevin– Choose Your Own Adventure series The Burning Girl by Claire Messud (releases August 29)– The Woman Upstairs by Claire Messud What We’re Reading This Week: Ann: A Castle in England by Jamie Rhodes (releases August 15)– March series by John Lewis, Andrew Aydin, and Nate Powell– Audubon: On the Wings of the World by Fabien Grolleau and Jérémie Royer Halle: The Breakdown by B.A. Paris (releases July 18)– Behind Closed Doors by B.A. Paris