Size / / /

CONTENT WARNING:


You Are Here

You need to take the Blue Line to Memorial Park – move up around the
axis to the second exit. (You can use your home vehicle.) You walk along
the fence and turn right to find the entrance ahead. The fountain is
inside, centered in the hall; to locate it, you need to walk past the core
steles along the main avenue.

At the time of liberation and crisis, this was the largest cavern inside
the planetoid, dug for the purpose of mining ore; but the mine became
repurposed as a war memorial when independence was declared. The lights
overhead fade out in response to your awareness and darken to a constant
gray, reminding the visitor of generations past in the face of what is yet
to be. With each moment, the baseline of your memories shifts, creating an
unsettling dream atmosphere. The quiet, oblique space opens wide and
resounds with your own breathing. You can touch the fragments and pebbles
embedded in the stone mantle, but beware of your instinctive missteps –
the ground is uneven. You can assert yourself and call from the inside,
expecting deliverance, but any wrongs are products of your own mind and
your preconceptions. You are the mirror.

[ PROCEED ]

Was: Blue Line to Memorial Park

The cavern inside you resounds with the purpose of generations past;
you walk ahead, expecting the lights overhead to darken any second
and the dream to fade out to the constant gray of baseline awareness.
Turn to move, mine your memories for ore and liberation. You are here
and with each moment you assert your independence, centered inside
the planetoid you can call your own. You need to find the fence around
the fountain, to walk along the main avenue and touch the steles; exit
as the entrance opens wide – this is your need to locate your home when
you are but a visitor, creating a memorial from repurposed fragments,
the unsettling space inside became embedded in your core,
reminding you of past missteps. Take up the mantle but beware the war,
the instinctive response to right declared wrongs at the time of crisis –
the quiet in the hall is the vehicle of your own uneven breathing
and the ground shifts along an oblique axis. It is the deliverance
of the mind – preconceptions dug in stone and atmosphere;
the largest products mining can use are but pebbles in the face of
what was – and can yet be. Mirror yourself.



Bogi Takács is a Hungarian Jewish agender trans person and a resident alien in the US. E writes both fiction and poetry, and eir work has been published in a variety of venues like Strange Horizons, Clarkesworldand Apex, among others. E reviews diverse fiction, poetry, and nonfiction at Bogi Reads the World. You can follow em on Twitter at @bogiperson. Bogi also has a webserial, Iwunen Interstellar Investigations.
Current Issue
30 Mar 2020

The Strange Horizons team presents new speculations with climate at its heart.
The Wi-Fi is shallow, a miracle drizzle that broke the heat wave blockade. They say in 10 years the internet will never flow here again.
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Porpentine Charity Heartscape's “Dirty Wi-Fi.”
If half my kindergarten cohort was dead by the time I hit sixth grade, I would be mopey too.
By: Jason P Burnham
Podcast read by: Anaea Lay
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Jason P Burnham's “Cairns.”
“I’m Rosie,” she says. But I just call her the kid.
By: Tara Calaby
Podcast read by: Anaea Lay
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents Tara Calaby's “Three Days with the Kid.”
Fixing my pipes, for the plumber, / is a simple thing. He whistles gently as I tell him / about the yellow eyes I saw last night.
Between us, there are threads of doubt, unwinding spools like spider webs across the scalded earth
what the map said was once a buffalo jump
By: Kaily Dorfman
By: Camille Louise Goering
By: Brian Beatty
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Podcast read by: Kaily Dorfman
Podcast read by: Brian Beatty
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Ciro Faienza presents poetry from the Climate special issue.
Solarpunk reminded me that growing your own food is a thing, that we can make or grow something rather than buy it, that technology can help us redirect the trajectory of the world.
Thursday: Bridge 108 by Anne Charnock 
Friday: Glass and Gardens: Solarpunk Winters edited by Sarena Ulibarri 
Issue 23 Mar 2020
Issue 16 Mar 2020
By: Lisa Nan Joo
Podcast read by: Anaea Lay
By: Jenny Thompson
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
100 African Writers of SFF - Part Fifteen: Ghana
Issue 9 Mar 2020
By: Leah Bobet
Podcast read by: Anaea Lay
By: Emily Smith
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 2 Mar 2020
By: Innocent Chizaram Ilo
Podcast read by: Anaea Lay
By: Cam Kelley
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
By: Dante Luiz
Art by: DAPENHA
Issue 24 Feb 2020
By: Mayra Paris
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 17 Feb 2020
By: Priya Sridhar
Podcast read by: Anaea Lay
By: E. F. Schraeder
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 10 Feb 2020
By: Shannon Sanders
Podcast read by: Anaea Lay
Issue 3 Feb 2020
By: Ada Hoffmann
Podcast read by: Anaea Lay
By: S.R. Tombran
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Issue 27 Jan 2020
By: Weston Richey
Podcast read by: Ciro Faienza
Load More
%d bloggers like this: