Commentary: Deadlines and Other Imaginary Animals
I am consciously missing today’s publishing deadline for the first time since I started regular updates last year, and…mixed feelings.
I am consciously missing today’s publishing deadline for the first time since I started regular updates last year, and…mixed feelings.
Fred Skeller felt like being sad, and he could think of no better place to be sad in than the mall. So, he went.
Nobody has any idea what they’re doing Some pretend better than others But rest assured: it is a ruse.
Souk Baijin took a deep breath and gingerly lowered himself into the trench. With the brush, he gently swept away a thin layer of remaining dust. Something gleamed in the shadows at the bottom of the pit…
Dust swirled up around the dented metal skin of the ship as pilot Souk Baijin and navigator Charle Sage twisted and banked along the canyon bed. This was no game, but it might be the only way to get out of the business—that is, the only one that would keep them alive...
They were trash miners: prospectors of second-hand gems and used ore, cruising the junk heaps of known space for the garbage of dead cities and lost moons. They should’ve ended up as something better than this, but maybe their luck was about to turn around…