The water encompassing me is dark and clear. The simulacrum fills it with enzymes, reducing its viscosity dramatically. The liquid stops resisting my movements. I float freely inside the abdominal cavity of the simulacrum and the beam of light from my headlamp doesn't find anything to reflect from.
And then they come. The stars.
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Hanuš Seiner's "Terra Nullius."
Ground of blood and mother’s wails, the rush / of suited skeletons, lining to their next daily death
After a really good sermon we refuse to be the flip side to evil, the entangled reaction to injustice, the monster or the fool.