Jake's Monthly- Science Fiction Anthology

Jake’s Monthly

(Part 1)

Science Fiction Anthology

Table of Contents

Copyright Page

Dedication

Preface

The Memorial by Ron Koppelberger

Anomaly by Jay Faulkner

Nova by Joe Jablonski

Lemon Pi by John H. Dromey

Firstfather by Tom Wells

Where There’s Water by Sean Monaghan

Congregation by Dorothy Davies

The Last Singularity by Ran Cartwright

Reality TV by T. Fox Dunham

Hylo by Tom Wells

The Third Crime’s a Charm by John H. Dromey

Katie Stumbled by Michael Shone

THE POLY UNSATURATED, QUICK DISSOLVING, FAST ACTING, PLEASANT TASTING GREEN AND PURPLE ADVENTURES OF WOMYNGRRL AND boyman by David Perlmutter

Eye of the Beholder by Danica Green

The David Effect by Mike Jansen

Next Time

About the Editor

Copyright Page.

Published by Jake’s Monthly at Smashwords.

All authors featured now receive their reprint-rights.

Dedication

This anthology is dedicated to the following:

Chris Bartholomew, and the rest of the Static Movement family.

Every author who contributed.

Friends and family.

Asimov, Clarke, Baxter, Heinlein, Stross, Lyons, Rucker, and Destefano.

Preface

By Jake Johnson

Hello, and welcome to Jake’s Monthly’s first anthology. This project will attempt to bring at least 12 anthologies of various genres to you, one every month.

This literary vessel is on its (and our) maiden voyage, and a lot of good stories are already being presented. Compiled here are tales by editors, award-winning authors, new voices and experienced story-crafters. We hope you enjoy your stay.

We will now begin briefing. Feel free to skip ahead and read the stories if you think you’re ready or don’t want any information going in.

The Memorial is a piece of micro-fiction written by a master of the style, Ron Koppelberger. We’re in orbit- set course for Eden.

Anomaly by the editor Jay Faulkner is a story involving time travel, and wherever you find time travel, a paradox isn’t far behind- or is it the other way around?

Nova is by the editor Joe Jablonski, and serves to remind us: no matter how many planets our descendants may colonize, each will have its doomsday.

Lemon Pi establishes John H. Dromey’s abilities as both a satirist and a mystery writer. You could demonstrate the solution today, but can you solve the case in a future on the brink of war?

Firstfather by aspiring author Tom Wells asks what may soon become a pertinent question: what does immortality do to the tradition of the nuclear family?

Where There’s Water is a tale by editor Sean Monaghan. Trapped under an alien ocean on a barren world, can a station’s surviving crew find a way to escape before everything floods?

Congregation by editor Dorothy Davies is a moody, somber short story about a potential future for religion.

The Last Singularity is a genuinely frightening story that would equally well here and in the forthcoming Lovecraftian Horror anthology. Eighty days until the end of time…

Reality TV by T. Fox Dunham brings us a new perspective on television in a future where we aren’t the only ones watching.

Hylo is another story by Tom Wells, which keeps you guessing. A group of colonists was trying to make new lives for themselves on an uninhabited planet. Now, the exact opposite has happened, and it seems unlikely that any humans will survive.

The Third Crime’s a Charm is John H. Dromey’s second contribution here, and it’s recommended that you brush up on Sherlock Holmes to fully enjoy this one. The crime’s possible, but what happens afterwards can’t be. Or can it?

Katie Stumbled by Michael Shone is a true alien thriller. The bounty hunter Sefheron’s been given a case that makes no sense, and the alien structure of the Casselith may hold the only answers.

…WOMYNGRRL AND boyman is a novella by author David Perlmutter. It’s a tragic comedy and a farcical drama. It’s about superheroes, relationships, abuse, lollipops, mutated dogs and cartoon people in a postapocalyptic Canada. It’s also the longest story in this volume.

Eye of the Beholder is by Danica Green, and is a commentary on our society’s obsession with appearances, and what occurs when this reaches its logical conclusion. It’s also not intended for younger readers.

The David Effect is by Mike Jansen, an author in the Netherlands. The title is a reference to the biblical David, and if you want everything from this biotech story, you might want to keep a Bible on hand.

The Memorial

By Ron Koppelberger

The expressway of incredible existence, the existence of bare gatherings in substance and circumstance, in indigenous kaleidoscopes of life, love, and passion merged with his cognate mind. A thousand histories and a million lives all written in fulfillment of the memorial.

Lofty egress and taller cities of stature led him to read the embossed brass plate,

NEW YORK

And beneath a triune symbol in black and yellow. The extravagance of the garden was a full circle of catastrophe and rebirth. The planet was an uninhabited Eden. Ancient ruins of unknown origin lay scattered in the lush tangle of trees and scrub. Birth and rebirth, the legend of his forefathers, the legend called Earth lay before him. The spacecraft was a pregnant womb, a precursor to the world that would be. The space angel read the dusty brass plate again and sighed, the new plate would read,

EDEN

From Heaven to Earth, he thought, from Heaven to Earth.

Anomaly

By Jay Faulkner

The gloomy day grew even darker, a doleful curtain of grey clouds sullenly moving to cover the sky, as the minister brought his eulogy to a close. His deep and resonant voice had clashed with the wordless sobs of the woman to his left and, even worse, the confused jabbering of the small child who clung to her hand as if afraid to ever let go. There were many other people gathered in the cemetery but it didn’t matter to me. I saw them but took no notice; I only had eyes for my sister and my niece. Another few months to go before her third birthday, so on the day that her father was being buried, of course she was afraid– even if she didn’t really understand why. Ten days ago she had kissed her daddy on the lips, leaving a trail of breakfast cereal behind, and smiled as he held her tight and repeated their personal mantra.

See you tonight, cookie.

His last words to her had been a lie; she never saw him again. Now she never wanted to be alone, not even for a moment. I had made the mistake of kissing her, gently, three days ago while the arrangements were being made. I had told her that I would see her the next day. Her scream had brought Maggie, her mother, running from the kitchen, and it had taken nearly an hour to console her; to persuade her that I wasn’t going to ‘go away’ like her daddy – that I wasn’t going to die too.

She smiled at me from across the coffin, face wan but full of childish hope, and my heart broke. I tried to remain impassive and silent like the tombstones that surrounded us. I wanted nothing more than to reach out across the hole in the ground and ease their pain. I knew that I wouldn’t, though; neither reach out nor console them. I had only lost my brother-in-law. I couldn’t even begin to understand their loss. They had lost their husband and father respectively. Nothing that I could do would change that.

The minister voiced a small prayer, the words passing right through me unheard, before raising his voice in a hymn that I didn’t recognise. From beyond the crowd of faces that I knew that I should know, but didn’t care enough to try, four men moved forwards and gently began to lower the coffin into the ground. With a low keen Maggie took an involuntary step towards the dark oak box, Sophie dragged along with her. Stepping around the two nearest pallbearers I reached out to her, grabbing her by the shoulder, and pulled her in close to my chest. I held her tightly but, with hands clenched into fists, she held me tighter. As the rain, finally, began to fall in earnest – as if God himself was weeping at the loss of Stuart Oxford – we stood together, all that was left of our family, and I let her sob on me as the ground swallowed him.

***

Thank you for coming.

For what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon I heard Maggie give out that hollow platitude to someone else. It wasn’t that she wasn’t grateful, she was, but at that moment she simply had nothing left to give apart from the words themselves. Everything that she had had to give had either been buried with her husband or saved for her daughter. Glancing up, I smiled at her and she nodded, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ as she stared at the small, dark-haired figure that stood beside me. I ran my hand through Sophie’s hair, reassuring her as best as I could, as we both waited with varying levels of impatience for the day to end.

Uncle Davy?

Yes? I knelt down, ignoring the dampness that immediately saturated the material of my suit and spread a growing circle of cold across my knee. Staring into her large brown eyes I couldn’t help but compare them to Stuart’s. Both Maggie and I had green eyes, and bright red hair, that was a trademark of our Celtic heritage; it had been a long-running joke that it wouldn’t require a DNA test to prove that Sophie was Stuart’s child – one look in her eyes, the mirror of his own, was all it took.

What time is it?

About three minutes after you last asked, cookie. She smiled, hearing the nickname, and I breathed a sigh of relief. It was her dad, who had given her that name, after she became fascinated with the Sesame Street character.

…But what time is that?

Why don’t you check your watch, sweetie?

Silly, I don’t have a watch.

What’s this, then? I pulled back her sleeve and, as she glanced down, revealed my own Rolex resting on her wrist. She squealed in surprise, looking back and forth from it to me, as she tried to figure out what was going on.

You never really grew up, did you? Maggie asked, suddenly beside me. I thought that you gave up the magic tricks when you left college.

I’m sorry… I started, slipping the watch back off Sophie’s wrist without her noticing.

Don’t apologise, Billy, she said with a small sigh. It’s nice to hear her laugh, to be honest. It will do her good.

What about you, though? Standing up, I looked into my older sister’s eyes, noticing the dark shadows underneath them as I strapped the watch back on.

I don’t think that you can wave a magic wand for me, Billy, Maggie stated, voice soft. I just can’t believe everything that’s happened … the accident, the explosion, Stuart, today. It all happened so fast. I just can’t believe it, to be honest, and keep thinking that I am going to wake up to find that it has all been a bad dream!

I wish that I could help, Maggie, I told her, holding her hand tightly. I would do anything to be able to bring him back for you – to take his place.

Don’t say that, Billy! Her voice was louder, harsher, than intended and some of the stragglers glanced around. Lowering her voice she placed one hand on my cheek. You are my baby brother, and I love you, but there was nothing that you could have done.

… there must have been something …

Billy, we both know that isn’t true, she sighed, wistfully. The police report confirmed that there was a leak in one of the coolant systems that was so small they nearly missed it. It was a one-in-a-million chance that Stuart was working on the new design when he was… any other day of the week and he wouldn’t have been there when it happened.

I just feel so-

I know, she interrupted gently, I do, too. Listen, are you going to come back to the house with us?

Of course I am. Why?

There is stuff we have to talk about, Billy, she said, not catching my gaze. About the business.

Don’t worry about it, Maggie. You shouldn’t be thinking about it right now. Besides, I can deal with it… I suppose I’m going to have to get used to dealing with the business alone.

That’s just it, she said, biting her lip. The sale is still going to happen.

Sale?

Oh God, she whispered, he didn’t tell you, did he?

Who? Who didn’t tell me what?

Oh, Billy, she clutched at my hand again. I’m sorry. Stu was supposed to tell you. He got an offer on the business and…

An offer?

Yes, she nodded. It was confirmed on the day he… that day. He was talking to me on the phone about it when it happened. Now, with everything else, I think that it’s best that we go ahead with it.

I don’t understand, I murmured, trying to get my head around it. We’re partners– it’s my business, too. How can it be sold?

It was too good an offer, Billy. It meant that Stu could retire and spend more time at home, she said, looking around and realising that there was no one else apart from them and Sophie still in the cemetery. …and you were a partner in name only, remember. You didn’t put anything into the business. We were going to ensure that you were okay, though-

OKAY!? I barked, louder than intended. Sophie’s head jerked up as she finally began to realise that there was something wrong. Dropping my voice, controlling myself, I stared at Maggie. Are you telling me that you guys were going to sell the business out from under me… that you’re STILL going to do that?!

I have to, Billy, she pleaded with me, please understand.

Maggie, how can I… My voice trailed off as, across the cemetery, I saw a shape moving past one of the tombstones. A flash of memory came to me as I saw the black hooded top that hid the wearer’s face from view and, without pausing to think, I ran.

Billy! Maggie’s voice was lost as I ran quickly past headstone after headstone. The figure in the hooded top turned and ran away from me, looking back occasionally as he made his way through the darkening evening. I let my grief– and my growing anger– fuel me, and pushed myself hard. I felt my heart beating inside my chest, heard my breath pounding out of my lungs, until, finally, my fingers were only inches from the black material. With a burst of effort, and a final lunge, I reached out and grabbed at the running figure, pushing him against the nearest tomb. I shrieked involuntarily as a pulse of energy stung me; static electricity running up through my arm.

What the…

Breathing heavily, I stood directly in front of the figure, wary of touching him again, but making sure that there was no way he could get past me. The hood of his jacket– and the encroaching night– kept his face shrouded and, as I got my breath back, I pointed at him.

Who the fuck are you? I barked out, furious. "And what are you doing following me?!

Don’t worry. The figure said, breathless but definitely male, as he reached out a calming hand towards me.

Don’t you fucking dare! I shouted, taking a step back. You got a fucking taser in there or something?

No, it isn’t that. I’m not armed, he said, sighing. It is complicated.

Then uncomplicate it for me. I stated. Tell me what you’re doing here and why you’ve been following me around.

I wasn’t following you, the man said, pulling back his hood to reveal a shock of red hair. His brown eyes stared earnestly into my own. I was here to pay my respects to you.

To me? I queried, confused. What do you mean?

This isn’t how it was meant to be, the man shook his head, indicating back into the cemetery.

What are you talking about?!

I’m sorry, Billy. Stuart wasn’t meant to be buried today he smiled a sad smile at me. You were.

***

OK, I said as we sat down on one of the memorial benches underneath a muted light. I did what you asked: I ‘calmed down’. Now you do what I’ve asked, and tell me what the hell is going on!

I can understand that you are confused …

Confused?! I laughed, without humour. A man I don’t know tells me that I’m meant to be dead. Why would I be confused?

It wasn’t meant to be like this…

So you’ve said, I pointed out. That really doesn’t make me feel any better, though. According to you, I was meant to be buried today!

Yeah, that is what was meant …

Why do you keep saying that? I interrupted. Why the fuck do you keep saying ‘meant’ like you know something?!

Because I do, Billy, he said, simply. I know exactly what was meant to happen but I don’t know why it didn’t.

How do you know? I asked, frustrated. How do you even know my name? Do I know you?!

No, he smiled. "You don’t know me, but I know you… or at least, I know of you."

Stop with all of this double-talk! I nearly screamed at him. Just tell me what’s going on!

My name is William Oxford, Billy. He said, softly. I was named after you. You were– are– my great-great-uncle and the man who was buried today… at least, that is what was ‘meant’ to happen.

You are fucking crazy. I said as I jumped up and paced in front of him. What is this– some sort of scam? You needn’t bother; I don’t have any money, you know. At least not anymore.

I don’t need money, Billy, William laughed. Where I come from we’re one of the richest families on the planet.

Where you come from… I looked at him, intently. Where’s that?

"I