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"Anabiosis" by Trent Jamieson
I am sitting in a room talking to a dead
man. He is smoking a cigarette. What do the dead smoke?
"Whatever we can get," D. Conway says, then
grins apologetically. "These are sixteens, a little too strong for my
liking, but what can you do?"
Outside, 438 dead people live in the cramped
confines of Woolamulla holding station. This is the hard end of a miracle.
Original fiction only available for 6 months from publication date.
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"Birds of the Brushes and Scrubs" by Geoffrey Maloney
There was one such body? she asks.
Many, I say, all strung along the bridge, some with their hearts still beating.
For what purpose?
Doomaji said just for fun, to see what it would look like, but he did not wish to tell me the truth, that it was evil for the sake of evil, for no reason at all.
Perhaps he said that because he felt embarrassed to tell the truth.
Original fiction only available for 6 months from publication date.
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