Size / / /

Talk's not required to smooth this breach,

Only hard work. We don't dream any,

So don't bother wishing us pleasant sleep.

While you slumber, secure in your superiority,

We're working through the walls, our thoughts

Drills honed diamond-fine by delta waves,

Bank walls and identities alike defenseless.

We don't slaughter, though. We build. Destruction

And chaos are too coarse for our art.

While we forge lives, link chains, inspire

Neurons to fire in a sequence that names names,

You dream you see your long-buried grandfather,

That you become the hero of your favorite show,

Merged with the best friend you always dreamed

Of having. Miracles aren't dross: we

Rescue lost cats, find longed-for lovers, reunite

Dead and living, if only for the night.

We even generate income when we inspire

New novels, new mergers, new careers that won't go sour.

We'll tell you what you really think and feel,

Especially when you're not aware yourself.

Your energy after sleep's our living proof

Of elevated GNP and lasting worth.

What matter if IDs get swapped at birth?

It's better than burnout, wouldn't you agree?

And you're not talking to us anyway.




Adele Gardner (www.gardnercastle.com) has a story forthcoming in Analog, and 52 stories and over 350 poems in Strange Horizons, Deep Magic, Daily Science Fiction, Flash Fiction Online, PodCastle, and more. A full/active member of SFWA & HWA and a graduate of the Clarion West Writers Workshop, Adele's had ten poems win or place in the Poetry Society of Virginia Awards, Rhysling Award, and Balticon Poetry Contest. A former editor for The Mariners' Museum, this genderfluid night owl (none/any/they/Mx.) can be found reading comics with cats or shooting b&w film in the noir nightscape. Adele serves as literary executor for father, namesake, and mentor, Dr. Delbert R. Gardner.
Current Issue
20 Jul 2026

Given Rebecca’s hunger for blood, our hopes being complimentary seemed unlikely, yet Auntie Regina’s blessing poured over us both from head to toe. Never before had I felt closer to my sister. The warmth penetrated deeper into our skin, past the second layer into the third. We were burning.
Google means a hundred acres north of town
boots parading through his pulse; he jerks awake mid-throw
Wednesday: Midnight Timetable by Bora Chung, translated by Anton Hur 
Friday: Anti-State by Allen Stroud 
Issue 13 Jul 2026
By: Aimee Ogden
Podcast read by: Jenna Hanchey
Issue 6 Jul 2026
Issue 29 Jun 2026
Issue 22 Jun 2026
Issue 15 Jun 2026
Issue 14 Jun 2026
Issue 8 Jun 2026
Issue 1 Jun 2026
Issue 25 May 2026
By: Louis Inglis Hall
Podcast read by: Emmie Christie
Issue 18 May 2026
Load More