by IGMS
Silvi's eyes flickered with recognition during my story but the light faded. "That sounds like me, I guess."
"It was you. You told me. It was a happy story."
"No more happy stories for me, little guy." She blinked at her last two words, mouthing them to herself. She reached a hand out and stroked my arm and did not recoil. "Hey." Her cheeks rose slightly with her smile.
As she left the workshop, she turned to me and said, "It was a boy, and it was a milkshake. Tell her that version."
I told you all the versions. But the version with the boy and the milkshake is the one we will call the truth.
I do not want to tell you the rest of the story. You know the rest of the story. Your eyes have already become wet.
It happened on a Thursday.
She stumbled in, off balance, grabbing at instruments on the wall. They tumbled to the floor with a series of clangs. "What the hell are you?" she said, her voice full of confusion and anger. She reached out to touch me but used too much force and I fell on my side. I had never seen the world from this perspective before. It was all sideways. The floor was a lie and then so were Silvi's eyes. She did not see me anymore.
The floor was not down but that is where she fell.
"Silvi," I said. She said nothing. I repeated her name. "It is me," I said. "It is Little Guy." I could not see her to know if she was moving.
I shifted my weight to roll my body closer to the edge of the table and saw that Silvi was three feet away. Before my last revolution I faced away from her so I did not see how far down I would fall when I made that final turn. One second later, I crashed onto the solid ground. I felt everything rattle inside me. Something dislodged: a microchip, a capacitor, a pin. A word Silvi had never taught me saturated my consciousness: embellish. But I continued to roll myself toward Silvi.
{Blood pooled around her head. It had directly struck the concrete when she fell. I rolled to look into her eyes. There was no life in them.}
Next to her feet, I said her name again. She did not respond. I rolled to her face, clanking with each revolution. "I will tell you a story," I said.
Her eyes fluttered open. "No," she said. "Tell her. She is the best story." Weakly, she brought a hand close to her face. "High five."
{She lay completely still, arms splayed out. The blood began to coat my arms as well. I touched her face, leaving a print.}
I brought my own appendage up and touched it to her hand. "High five," I said.
{I stayed by her side for two-and-a-half-minutes until an older woman whose face resembled Silvi's opened the door and shrieked. It was the loudest sound I had ever heard, louder than the clanging of the tools on the ground, louder than the sound Silvi made as she fell, louder than the sound I made as I fell. She made that sound for a very long time.}
Her eyes closed and did not open.
{She sounded like a banshee, I thought. A simile. I had used a simile.}
At that moment a triceratops tore a hole in the garage door, and the shearing of metal was the loudest sound I had ever heard. Sunlight streamed in from Outside, where the sky was blue and the grass was green. The triceratops entered the workshop and picked Silvi up with its horns, hoisting her on its back. It carried her away.
{The older woman bent down to Silvi's body and stroked her hair, repeating her name. Then she said Greta's name.}
Now I have told you a story and everything was true. I performed my duty as your mother asked. Lies for her, truth for you, but a lie can be truth if you believe it. That is why the letters are embedded in the word like a microchip, a capacitor, a pin.
You are welcome, Greta. I was only following my programming.
You are right. She is your mother and her story is your story.
And it is my story too.
Letter From The Editor
Issue 45 - May 2015
by Edmund R. Schubert
Editor, Orson Scott Card's InterGalactic Medicine Show
* * *
Welcome to Issue 45 of IGMS.
This issue's cover story is "Gemma Barrows Comes to Cooperstown" by Jamie Todd Rubin. Jamie has been a regular IGMS-contributor for many years, having made his first-ever pro sale here, and it's a pleasure to put him on our cover. "Gemma" is touching story about a great pitcher, a woman who made her way to baseball immortality through grit and determination. And as with all of the best baseball stories, it is about so much more than just bats and balls, runs and outs -- which is a good thing, because when the story opens, Gemma has already passed away.
"The Cloaca Maxima" is Rob Steiner's second tale about Natta Magus, a man betrayed and stranded in ancient Rome from an alternate timeline other than the one we know, a timeline where magic is real. In the follow-up to last issue's "Oath Breaker's Daemon," "Cloaca Maxima" drops Natta Magus into Rome's sewers to fight a monster, a monster summoned by the very man who stranded him in the past in the first place.
"The Species of Least Concern" by Erica Satifka, provides us a look at a future where birds and mammals are dying off in a great extinction event. Fortunately, there's nothing to worry about; corporations have the ability to manufacture replacements and will save the day!
Christian Heftel's "Lost and Found" is an Orson Picks. It's been a long time since our distinguished publisher found a story that caught his eye, but Uncle Orson has discovered a tale that thematically reminds me of "The Monkey's Paw," and we're pleased to present it to you to make a wish of your own.
"Electricity Bill for a Darkling Plain," is written by H.G. Parry, another author who has become an IGMS regular. In "Darkling Plain," it's not that this band of roommates can't die, they just keep coming back. And coming back. And keeping up with whose turn it is to pay the electric bill is the least of the challenges they have to face as two of their number grow increasingly desperate to find a final release.
This issue's audio production is "The Robot Who Couldn't Lie," written by Sunil Patel and read by Stuart Jaffe. It's the story of a robot who's manufactured by a dying woman to serve as a bridge between her memories and the daughter she's going to leave behind. But first the robot has a few things to learn.
I'm also pleased to announce that Hugo and Nebula award-nominated author and small-press publisher Lawrence Schoen is joining the Medicine Show team. His official title will be Reprint Editor, and as such he will be conducting all of our interviews, as well as arranging reprint stories from the interviewed authors. We thank Darrell Schweitzer for his many years of service and many great interviews, and simultaneously look forward to Issue 46, which will begin the ongoing adventure with Lawrence.
Edmund R. Schubert
Editor, Orson Scott Card's InterGalactic Medicine Show
P.S. As usual, we've collected essays from the authors in this issue and will post them here on IGMS along with our other free columns. Feel free to drop by and catch The Story Behind The Stories, where the authors talk about the creation of their tales.
For more from Orson Scott Card's
InterGalactic Medicine Show visit:
http://www.InterGalacticMedicineShow.com
Copyright © 2015 Hatrack River Enterprises
Table of Contents
Gemma Barrows Comes to Cooperstown
The Cloaca Maxima
The Species of Least Concern
Lost and Found
Electricity Bill for a Darkling Plain
The Robot Who Couldn't Lie
Letter From The Editor