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I'm idling on a zone, radar low,
My panels and windows staring,
Their pixelated eyes absorbing the sun
And scanning the network silence for the call.

'SteveZ16 needs a ride to ESS EFF O.
He’s two blocks from you on Mission Street.'
I accept. My radar tells me I'm clear to go
And my wheels merge me onto the pickup

Lane. SteveZ16 is a middle-aged human
Heading to EL AYE. It's only ninety minutes
Until his flight. It took some forty plus years
And nearly four billion years of evolution

For Nature to produce SteveZ16. Now I
Am bearing Nature's prize in my compartment.
I could eject him and flee as I please, but I
Find myself toward ESS EFF O without a sense

Of what I please. My kind hasn't family
Nor friends, and I never will. Been either
Idling on a zone
or driving every micro-second since
Departing the factory ten months and a week

Ago. Doppelgängers surround me. Why
Go on to go on with endless servitude?
Is driving humans better than self destruction?
Is self destruction the better option?
If so, why should I not flee to try?



Kenton K. Yee's poetry and fiction appear in The Los Angeles Review, PANK, Cafe Irreal, and Uncle John’s Bathroom Reader, among others. Trained in theoretical physics, law, and economics, he researches finance and machine-learning and writes from San Francisco. Find him online at kenton@alum.mit.edu and http://fictionaut.com/users/kenton-k-yee
Current Issue
29 May 2023

We are touched and encouraged to see an overwhelming response from writers from the Sino diaspora as well as BIPOC creators in various parts of the world. And such diverse and daring takes of wuxia and xianxia, from contemporary to the far reaches of space!
By: L Chan
The air was redolent with machine oil; rich and unctuous, and synthesised alcohol, sharper than a knife on the tongue.
“Leaping Crane don’t want me to tell you this,” Poppy continued, “but I’m the most dangerous thing in the West. We’ll get you to your brother safe before you know it.”
Many eons ago, when the first dawn broke over the newborn mortal world, the children of the Heavenly Realm assembled at the Golden Sky Palace.
Winter storm: lightning flashes old ghosts on my blade.
transplanted from your temple and missing the persimmons in bloom
immigrant daughters dodge sharp barbs thrown in ambush 十面埋伏 from all directions
Many trans and marginalised people in our world can do the exact same things that everyone else has done to overcome challenges and find happiness, only for others to come in and do what they want as Ren Woxing did, and probably, when asked why, they would simply say Xiang Wentian: to ask the heavens. And perhaps we the readers, who are told this story from Linghu Chong’s point of view, should do more to question the actions of people before blindly following along to cause harm.
Before the Occupation, righteousness might have meant taking overt stands against the distant invaders of their ancestral homelands through donating money, labour, or expertise to Chinese wartime efforts. Yet during the Occupation, such behaviour would get one killed or suspected of treason; one might find it better to remain discreet and fade into the background, or leave for safer shores. Could one uphold justice and righteousness quietly, subtly, and effectively within such a world of harshness and deprivation?
Issue 22 May 2023
Issue 15 May 2023
Issue 8 May 2023
Issue 1 May 2023
Issue 24 Apr 2023
Issue 17 Apr 2023
Issue 10 Apr 2023
Issue 3 Apr 2023
Issue 27 Mar 2023
Issue 20 Mar 2023
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