Size / / /

Gagarin told the women, "Do not be afraid,"

for they were astonished,

seeing his dragging parachute and his strange carapace.

"I am a Soviet like you,

who has descended from space,

and must find a telephone to call Moscow."

Fischer said, "Let none attend my funeral

except my Icelandic hosts

and my chessmaster wife."

Both came to earth.

Fischer lived long and made enemies.

Perhaps he was mad.

Gagarin, a short man,

told how beautiful

was the blue of earth, the purple horizon,

from the high vantage he had reached.

He died young.

Each championed

a nation tightroped above Ragnarok.

Gagarin said do not destroy this planet, so beautiful.

Fischer refused to play further,

called his homeland his enemy.

It probably was.

The chess man explored pathways of action,

the deepest of deep players.

Gargarin saw farther

than any had seen before.

Both circled the earth:

Fischer prowled its surface with his void passport;

Gagarin soared above on metal and fire.

Fischer competed and brawled. Even his will was contested.

Gagarin, in less than two hours,

saw the earth,

everything,

all at once.




Mary A. Turzillo's "Mars Is no Place for Children" won the 1999 Nebula. Her first novel An Old-Fashioned Martian Girl appeared in Analog. Both are recreational reading on the International Space Station. Published in Asimov's, F & SF, Interzone, SF Age, Weird Tales, Oceans of the Mind, and Lady Churchill's Rosebud Wristlet, she has over fifty poems in print, plus several collections, including Pushcart nominee Your Cat & Other Space Aliens. You can read more about her at her website www.maryturzillo.com.
Current Issue
20 Jan 2025

Strange Horizons
Surveillance technology looms large in our lives, sold to us as tools for safety, justice, and convenience. Yet the reality is far more sinister.
Vans and campers, sizeable mobile cabins and some that were barely more than tents. Each one a home, a storefront, and a statement of identity, from the colorful translucent windows and domes that harvested sunlight to the stickers and graffiti that attested to places travelled.
“Don’t ask me how, but I found out this big account on queer Threads is some kind of super Watcher.” Charlii spins her laptop around so the others can see. “They call them Keepers, and they watch the people that the state’s apparatus has tagged as terrorists. Not just the ones the FBI created. The big fish. And people like us, I guess.”
It's 9 a.m., she still hasn't eaten her portion of tofu eggs with seaweed, and Amaia wants the day to be over.
Nadjea always knew her last night in the Clave would get wild: they’re the only sector of the city where drink and drug and dance are unrestricted, and since one of the main Clavist tenets is the pursuit of corporeal joy in all its forms, they’ve more or less refined partying to an art.
surviving / while black / is our superpower / we lift broken down / cars / over our heads / and that’s just a tuesday
After a few deft movements, she tossed the cube back to James, perfectly solved. “We’re going to break into the Seattle Police Department’s database. And you’re going to help me do it.”
there are things that are toxic to a bo(d)y
By: Michelle Kulwicki
Podcast read by: Emmie Christie
  In this episode of the Strange Horizons Fiction podcast, Michael Ireland presents Michelle Kulwicki's 'Bee Season' read by Emmie Christie Subscribe to the Strange Horizons podcast on ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Spotify.
Wednesday: Motheater by Linda H. Codega 
Friday: Revising Reality: How Sequels, Remakes, Retcons, and Rejects Explain The World by Chris Gavaler and Nat Goldberg 
Issue 13 Jan 2025
Issue 6 Jan 2025
By: Samantha Murray
Podcast read by: Jenna Hanchey
Issue 23 Dec 2024
Issue 16 Dec 2024
Issue 9 Dec 2024
Issue 2 Dec 2024
By: E.M. Linden
Podcast read by: Jenna Hanchey
Issue 25 Nov 2024
Issue 18 Nov 2024
By: Susannah Rand
Podcast read by: Claire McNerney
Issue 11 Nov 2024
Issue 4 Nov 2024
Load More