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    Over the Brink: Tales of Environmental Disaster: Third Flatiron Anthologies, #13
    Over the Brink: Tales of Environmental Disaster: Third Flatiron Anthologies, #13
    Over the Brink: Tales of Environmental Disaster: Third Flatiron Anthologies, #13
    Ebook127 pages1 hour

    Over the Brink: Tales of Environmental Disaster: Third Flatiron Anthologies, #13

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    About this ebook

    Third Flatiron Publishing presents "Over the Brink," a new anthology of science fiction stories by an international group of award-winning and emerging writers, who offer their visionary takes on the theme of environmental disaster. Contributors include Colleen Anderson, Kurt Bachard, Thomas Canfield, Linda A.B. Davis, William Highsmith, Rich Larson, Curtis James McConnell, Mark Mills, Tim Myers, Khristo Poshtakov, Ian Rose, Ken Staley, and Robina Williams. These expert storytellers show us a broken world that is at once guilty and innocent, leaving us to ponder the aftermath.

    LanguageEnglish
    Publisherthirdflatiron
    Release dateMay 19, 2012
    ISBN9781476018973
    Over the Brink: Tales of Environmental Disaster: Third Flatiron Anthologies, #13
    Author

    thirdflatiron

    Juli Rew is a former science writer/editor for the National Center for Atmospheric Research in Boulder, Colorado, and is a software engineer by training. She is a believer in the scientific evidence for global warming. She also publishes fantasy and science fiction stories by other authors at Third Flatiron Publishing.

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      Book preview

      Over the Brink - thirdflatiron

      Over the Brink: Tales of Environmental Disaster

      Third Flatiron Anthologies

      Volume 1, Spring 2012

      Published by Third Flatiron Publishing

      Juliana Rew, Editor

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2012 Third Flatiron Publishing

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

      *****~~~~~*****

      Table of Contents

      Chameleon's Cry by Tim Myers

      Out of the Mist by Ken Staley

      SPACESHIPS AT THE SPACEPORT IN SPACE CITY! by Curtis James McConnell

      Comp Ice by Thomas Canfield

      The Brown Woman by Colleen Anderson

      Take One With Water by Linda A. B. Davis

      Setting the Price by Ian Rose

      The Swamp by Khristo Poshtakov

      Grins and Gurgles (flash humor): How I Made My Name as a Sci-Fi Writer by Kurt Bachard

      Essence of Bat by Robina Williams

      Bonfire by Rich Larson

      A Joy Born of Madness by Mark Mills

      Tempest Kings by William Highsmith

      Photo and Art Credits

      *****~~~~~*****

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      Chameleon's Cry

      by Tim Myers

      Nawithka wasn't born among the people. He just appeared at a campsite one day, walking out of Great-Mother-Forest and squatting among them, speaking freely but in a strange manner. The Fefne were confused by this. Some said he was a ghost. He heard that and laughed. Pinch me! he said, and they did, then ran their hands over his sand-colored arms and legs. See? I'm flesh and bone, like you.

      He was a human being; they could see that. But he wasn't Fefne. His skin was a light color and hard to look at. Parts of his face and body were shaped differently. He had different tools, too, two small shiny black things he always kept near him, that sometimes made unusual noises. And his name wasn't really Nawithka. The people couldn't say his name the way he did.

      When Bokka and Missu asked where he came from, he wouldn't say at first. He wouldn't go away, either. So the people fed him, and he tried to help with the work. He was like a child that way, always wanting to help but not quite able to do things right. But he was eager to learn, so some of the people began teaching him.

      He stayed with them through the rainy season, then the dry season, and then, when the rainy season came again and he'd learned to speak better, he asked the people to sit with him and listen to what he'd come to say.

      It was deep twilight when he began. The adults gathered round the fire, and the children stood behind. Heavy rain had fallen all day; now everything was wet and dripping.

      Nawithka told them he came from the stars. The adults looked at each other. Then Missu, scratching at the bad rash on his thigh, looked up. Nawithka, he gently explained, I don't want to make you angry. But how can there be Great-Mother-Forest in the stars?

      Nawithka nodded at this. His skin was darker now, from the sun; he wore the woven loincloth of the Fefne men, painted himself for the dances. Yes, Missu, he agreed. There is no Great-Mother-Forest in the stars. But there are other. . . places. . . out in the air, far from here. Some of those places have no Great-Mother-Forest.

      The people gasped and began to murmur. Kninna rose to her feet, an old woman. Nawithka—this makes no sense. How could anyone live without Great-Mother-Forest?

      Nawithka's forehead wrinkled for a moment. I understand your wise words, Kninna, he said slowly and politely. But you must understand: I have seen these places. You know the clearing you showed me down by the Va River, where the seppi fruit grows? There are places like that, only much, much bigger. Other worlds. And people live on them.

      Kebbo got up and came round the fire, limping on his bad foot, then pretended to examine Nawithka's back. Kebbo was always fooling around like that.

      Nawithka looked confused, but he stayed still. Then Kebbo went back and sat down, looking straight into the fire with a serious look. Everyone knew Kebbo was up to something; a few people giggled.

      Nawithka looked uneasy. At last he said, Kebbo—will you tell me why you did that? Is there an insect on me or something?

      Kebbo tapped his chest to show he was thinking hard. No, Nawithka, he answered. You said you came from the air and the stars. I was only looking for bird-wings on your back.

      For a moment there was silence. Then the people began to roar with laughter, great big hun hun hun's and little tilla tilla tilla's. After a time Nawithka began laughing too.

      When the laughing finally stopped, they all looked up in silence at the few brilliant stars now visible through the canopy.

      ***

      They knew Nawithka wasn't crazy; otherwise he wouldn't have been able to laugh. But he kept on telling his strange stories, and some of the Fefne grew uneasy.

      There were many other forests-that-weren't-forests, he insisted, and many people living in those places. There were more of these people-from-beyond than there were trees in Great-Mother-Forest. Some of the people-from-beyond looked like he did, he said, and some looked different—though none looked quite like the Fefne. These far people made things they could fly on, so they could go anywhere. Nawithka said they could get from the first rainy-season camp to the last dry-season camp in the time it takes to sneeze!

      The people-from-beyond were very powerful, he kept saying. They had things like sticks that could shoot lightning. They had boxes through which they could talk to each other from far away, and big animal-like things that could dig up the ground. Some of the Fefne children began having nightmares. Bokella's little Wima said she dreamed of an animal that was eating everything, that took her leg in its mouth just before she woke up.

      So Bokku, Missa, and Kninna went to talk with Nawithka.

      He was sitting at the foot of a tinnan tree, mending a game net. By now he could do it almost as well as any hunter. They knew he was proud of what he'd learned.

      Your nets are strong, Bokka began politely. Nawithka smiled and nodded his thanks.

      Nawithka, Kninna continued, please answer this question. Your stories are very entertaining. But the children are having nightmares. Why are you telling us these things?

      Nawithka put down the net. He looked at each of the three elders in turn, then swept his gaze over everyone in the camp. His eyes looked sad. Sweat ran down his pale temples.

      My friends, he said, the people-from-beyond have sent me to you. He rubbed his left hand with his right. "They sent me to learn about you, and tell you these things—and more too. I am trying to make you believe me. I know what I say sounds crazy. But I'm telling you the truth. And I must tell you the rest.

      "The people-from-beyond are coming here. Many of them. They're not coming right away. I was sent first, to explain to you how things will be. It will be five dry seasons from now. They will come here; they will live near you, and they will take things from Great-Mother-Forest. Your lives will change. You won't be able to live the way you do now. It could be very bad. You must be ready. The elders considered this in silence, Kninna chewing on a bit of vine-rope. Nawithka was looking down as if ashamed. Finally Missa said, "Nawithka—why did the people-from-beyond send you?"

      "They send many people like me to many different places. They taught me to understand. . . to understand the Fefne. They taught me how to speak your language, so I could explain all this to you. Sometimes bad things happen when the people-from-beyond come to a new place. The people-from-beyond don't want bad things to happen here. But sometimes the bad things happen anyway. So people like me are sent to help you prepare. It's one of our laws.

      I can teach you about the people-from-beyond, so you’ll be ready when they get here.

      Kninna stood up from her squat, straightening her back with a grunt. Out of her pouch she took her pipe and stuffed it with dry puppun grass, then crossed to the fire. Bending over, her dry flat breasts wiggling a little, she lit the pipe,

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