More stories from the latest issue:

• Styx Seasons
  Robert Frazier A glacier of infinite blue volume Constitutes the river’s source Below ground at the upper course Spring streams erode carve tumble Boulders smooth as cannonballs Summer’s currents ease then eddy Flush the middle with dark matter Usually lost between galaxies Charon poles autumn in his sleek gondola Avoiding oxbows where ghosts await Acceptance into the land of the dead Along a vapor-formed phantom Styx He often braves the wintery delta to deliver A soul of destiny to the great Oceanus Here the river mingles to finally infuse A glacier of infinite blue volume
• The Chronolithographer’s Assistant
  Suzanne Palmer Thomas stood at the top of the weedy stone path that led down the gently sloping hill to where a ramshackle cottage sat sprawled out against the backdrop of a hostile, unforgiving sea. The lingering gray of the morning’s storm had not yet fully let go its grip on the land, and though there was a low cliff and long stretch of rocky beach between the cottage and the relentless waves, still, it was hard to make himself walk toward them. He was clenching and unclenching his hands in nervous motion as he finally worked up the nerve
• Vivienne
  E.H. Lupton Let us imagine ourselves underwater. The water is in motion about us, but we lie still. Not borne about by the current, by choice. Let us imagine we have a duty. We wait. Let us imagine. The sword is almost beside the point. The waiting continues. For how long do we wait? We haven’t been told. I hate having cold feet. Imagine that above the lake, fog hangs over a bare wood, filigreed cobwebs, silvered crabapples, a few dead leaves. The finger bones of the trees are clacking against each other. Let’s pretend the future will someday lie
• The Courier
  Lavie Tidhar 08:20 Phobos Ghost Point R iding her dune buggy away from the dome, Yara Dlamini felt the rush of the early morning run as she kicked the buggy into high gear. She liked going fast, knew the terrain and where to turn, where to slow just a fraction and where she had a clear straight path. Everyone else on Mars moved so slowly! Trains that stopped at every station. People who stopped on their morning stroll through town just to chat! Yara had done the buggy racing for a while, won the regionals, but she was not interested
• Perri’s Fate
  Robert Reed 1 Certain stories were universal. For instance, every entity riding the Great Ship was convinced that they were the most vital character inside a vast, mostly joyous epic. Passengers, crew, and all of the lucid software belonged to a narrative that endured for more than a thousand centuries. But the world-sized vessel carried a secret cargo. An entire world named Marrow waited at the core, and the captains who went to explore Marrow were marooned there. That’s where they built the civilization that eventually climbed home again, which was when an entirely different story took hold. Chaos. That