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Listen for announcements.
Emergency instructions say the only things you need to worry about are
(1) Fire (2) Medical Emergency, and
The Police are dancing under the red lights
without their heads

Evacuate the car, onto the steel track
the air tastes like pennies down here and if you
   hold my hand tight enough maybe we can
      avoid the third rail
         the crackle of electricity, the swiveling light of a stranger’s flashlight

Just a bit further,
Survival is always a pinprick of light just out of reach, isn’t it?
   With our knees in the mud and sewage,
      we could pray,
      ask for a better second chance
         Assassinate our former selves

The tunnel’s just dark enough for a confession
don’t be shy
   Begging is a form of worship
      Worship, too, is a form of begging
         They never tell you that
            there is always more to lose

See the cameras? The scintillating eyes of a million strangers
waiting for you to fall
Hands up where they can see
Higher—
like you’re reaching for the stars
   like you’d let them
      turn you to ash for a glimpse of god.



Angela Liu is a Chinese-American writer from NYC. She researched mixed reality at Keio University in Japan and now works in IT consulting and translation. Her stories and poetry are published/forthcoming in ClarkesworldThe DarkUncannyDark Matter MagazineCast of Wonderskhōréō, among others. Her debut short story collection, Beautiful Ways We Break Each Other Open, will be released in September 2024 with Dark Matter INK. Check out more of her work at liu-angela.com or find her on Twitter/Instagram @liu_angela.
Current Issue
18 Mar 2024

Strange Horizons
We are very happy to welcome Dante Luiz as a new fiction editor on the team! Dante is a Ignyte Award winning author, and has been with Strange Horizons working as an Art Director for the past several years. We’re stoked to bring him on to the fiction side and have him bring his wonderful insight and skill to the fiction team.
Day in and day out, the rough waters of the Pacific slam themselves against the protrusion of sandstone the locals refer to as Morro Rock. White streaks of bird shit bleed down the rock, a testament to the rare birds of prey that nest in its pocked face overlooking the bay.
in my defence, juggling biological and artificial, i tripped over my shoelace, and spilled my lungs empty of the innocence that was, before guilt.
the birds, / who carry with them / the many names of the dead
Wednesday: Overlap: The Lives of a Former Time Jumper by N. Joseph Glass 
Issue 11 Mar 2024
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