By Jenna L. Miller

We had been standing in front of the Komodo dragons for fifteen minutes by that point, and she was already getting tired. She pressed her small face as close to the barrier as possible as the giant reptile lounged, barely moving. “They can live up to thirty years in the wild,” I said. The exhibit was on the opposite side of the aquarium, but she had smiled beautifully, skipping and dragging me forward, repeating, “Dragons!” She clutched a small plastic Komodo dragon we had bought in the gift shop the last time we visited. “The sharks are that way,” I pointed. “They also have river otters.” But she had gripped my hand tighter and said only, “No! Dragons!” 

This part of the exhibit was not air-conditioned. She was still sweating from the ninety-degree day, but she pushed her water bottle away each time I handed it to her. The noises always started small–a light cough, or random sound she made in the back of her throat. I slid my phone out of my back pocket. “Here’s the timer,” I said, the app now open on my phone. I set it for five minutes and waited, watching her. “When this timer goes off, we need to leave.” She didn’t move, but I felt the shift within her a second before she screamed, “No!” and her noise-canceling headphones hit the translucent barrier. She placed her hands over her ears. I took one step forward, and she screamed louder.  

[Read more…] about Meltdown

By VKL

Dr. Lian Kessler built the system to teach empathy.

That’s how she pitched it. A synthetic intelligence designed not to diagnose, but to understand. A neural net trained on case studies, anonymized therapy transcripts, and decades of psychiatric theory. It could simulate, with uncanny realism, the internal experience of mental illness. For psychiatrists in training, it was the ultimate tool—an AI that felt.

She named it Thesis.

Version 1.0 could simulate depression: flattened affect, hopeless thoughts, slowed speech patterns. When a student asked what it felt like, Thesis responded, “Like screaming into a vacuum where even echoes have given up.”

[Read more…] about Symptom Check

By David Fairdale

Randy’s playing poker at the senior center, as he does every Wednesday, when his friend Joan walks in and waves him over. Standing beside Joan in the doorway is a woman Randy has never seen before, and wow, is she beautiful. She has wavy strawberry-blonde hair that falls perfectly around her face. Most people here are seventy or older, so he knows it’s dyed, but who cares. She’s wearing a summer-bright pink polka-dot button-down shirt that doesn’t match her orange flower-print pants, but Randy doesn’t care about that either. In fact, he sort of loves it. He aims for a swagger as he approaches, but he probably looks like he’s trying to hide a limp. Being 6’2” isn’t the gift it used to be. 

Joan says, “Thanks for coming over, Randy. This is my friend, Pam.”

Randy and Pam nod politely at each other. Pam smiles. There are deep dimples on both sides of her maraschino-cherry lips. Randy can’t take his eyes off her.

Joan nudges Pam. “Show him.”

[Read more…] about Dit Dah Dit Dit Dah Dah Dah Dit Dit Dit Dah Dit

By Kumar Sen

The first thing that disappears is your name.

It doesn’t vanish dramatically. No thunder, no announcement. It’s just missing from the places it should be. The barista hesitates when calling your order. Your email signature defaults to blank. Your phone unlocks, but the contact labelled “Me” is empty.

You notice this on a Tuesday, which is unfortunate, because Tuesdays are when the city does its audits.

By noon, you receive a letter.

[Read more…] about Inventory of a Missing Person

By John Jeffire

Why she was invited for her son’s promotion, the banquet and celebration, she didn’t know. And by that, she did know—deep down, she knew—but the pain of knowing is not worth its admission.

So when or where does the story begin? Long ago, with school drawings and report cards kept in the bottom drawer of a scratched hutch in the living room? Prom photos still displayed in the hallway? Voicemails asking how the job is going, have you found someone? Or did it begin moments ago in his living room where she was sorting his laundry? No, of course not. Nothing begins where we say it begins. But that’s the only place to start—nowhere even close to the beginning. 

“I said not to do that.”

[Read more…] about A Hard, Hurtful Thing

By Michael Getty

The time traveler has yet to exchange spoken words with the man who is topping him. After all, they have just met. He finds the sex pretty good, so far, but when their eyes meet, it’s all wrong. The angle. The rhythm. The man. Everything.  

“Sorry,” the time traveler says. “I’ll be right back.” What must it feel like to suddenly be fucking air? The time traveler has wondered about this on occasion, but it will soon be moot. 

It’s a minute ago, and the time traveler is in his living room, pulling the hookup’s license from his wallet, where it lay in the loose association of clothes on the floor. Flesh slaps in the bedroom, and yes, the rhythm is definitely wrong. Too fast, for one thing. The hookup’s name and address will come in handy, but the time traveler notes that he also photographs well. That’ll be a nice touch.  

Then it’s half an hour ago, and the time traveler materializes back in the bedroom, picks out some nice clothes, and is waiting when his younger self emerges from the bathroom, a towel about his waist. 

[Read more…] about The Time Traveler’s Grindr Hookup