There are others, too, reaching back further along the daisy chain, when we were younger: slipping on ice, light cracking hard through my head; the agonizing sting of a scorpion on my arm, the stiffening of limbs, sudden tightness in my chest; Melanie in a dress for the first time, sobbing as our father screamed at her.
And forward, along the lines that branch out, fuzzing the borders of the future’s shape: knives, dented, rejected by my gut; police sirens wailing, gunshots ringing into the crater where my city used to be, the scent of burnt sugar; a plane that never lands safely, erupting into flame on the runway.
I only remember these as faint echoes, like a story someone told me once but whose details I’ve forgotten. Did they happen? Yes. No. The chain frays, spreads out like roots, possibilities endless.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
* * *
When Melanie and I were little, we’d lie on the carpet in the winter and warm our soggy feet by the radiator. This was when we still had a bad habit of jumping into snowbanks, exasperating our mom to no end. Melanie had just begun to learn how to melt shapes in the snow, the finest spark at the end of her index finger.
“I wonder why we can do these things,” Melanie had said, closing her fist around the lightning glinting across her palm.
I grinned at her, reaching out to catch a bit of stray static dancing down her arm. “Dunno. Don’t you think it’s cool to be special? It’s the one thing no one else can do but us.”
She wagged a foot at the radiator. “It’s kind of lonely, though.”
“At least you have me.”
“I guess so,” she said. “That’s better than nothing.”
I tackled her to the ground and we spent the next ten minutes hitting each other with stuffed animals.
* * *
My sister always dies before the world ends.
The sky is marred with the scars of my efforts, and I am so, so tired. The storm hums in my veins, one more cycle in many. I can’t count them anymore, numbers constantly in flux, ticking higher with each potential breath.
I wonder if this is what Melanie felt like every day of her life, so ripe with power, always at the precipice, always afraid to push in fear of making things worse.
This time around, I’m on the floor of my apartment, staring at my cell phone in my hand. My roommate is out and I’ve already missed my flight home. I let it pass, money evaporating into the void, meaningless.
Somewhere in the southwest, Melanie is walking out of the house, or is about to, her heart roaring with wildfire, lonely, alone. The sparks dance purple in her hands, lightning like veins through her arms.
You can’t fix this. It was never yours to control.
But my hands fumble over the touch screen, thumbs sliding wet over her face on the contact screen. She’s programmed in the same stupid anime ringtone I have on my phone, and it jingles inanely, all synthetic voices and pre-ordained sound.
I wait, mouth dry, my body shaking like the sky above the Mojave before it rains. Painted in brilliant, feverish strokes in my head, the daisy chain grows.
About the Author
Alyssa Wong is a Nebula-winning, Shirley Jackson-, Campbell-, and World Fantasy Award-nominated author, shark aficionado, and 2013 graduate of the Clarion Writers’ Workshop. Her work has appeared in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, Strange Horizons, Tor.com, Uncanny Magazine, Lightspeed Magazine, Nightmare Magazine, and Black Static, among others. She is an MFA candidate at North Carolina State University and a member of the Manhattan-based writing group Altered Fluid, and can be found on Twitter as @crashwong. You can sign up for author updates here.
Copyright © 2016 by Alyssa Wong
Art copyright © 2016 by Rovina Cai
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Clover by Charlie Jane Anders
The Art of Space Travel by Nina Allan
The Destroyer by Tara Isabella Burton
Traumphysik by Monica Byrne
The High Lonesome Frontier by Rebecca Campbell
Lullaby for a Lost World by Aliette de Bodard
A Dead Djinn in Cairo by P. Djeli Clark
Breaking Water by Indrapramit Das
Autobiography of a Traitor and a Half-Savage by Alix E. Harrow
The City Born Great by N. K. Jemisin
Everything That Isn't Winter by Margaret Killjoy
The Weight of Memories by Cixin Liu
The Maiden Thief by Melissa Marr
The Caretakers by David Nickle
Your Orisons May Be Recorded by Laurie Penny
meat+drink by Daniel Polansky
The Three Lives of Sonata James by Lettie Prell
The Great Detective by Delia Sherman
Finnegan’s Field by Angela Slatter
The Weather by Caighlan Smith
Terminal by Lavie Tidhar
Her Scales Shine Like Music by Rajnar Vajra
La Beauté sans vertu by Genevieve Valentine
That Game We Played During the War by Carrie Vaughn
A Fist of Permutations in Lightning and Wildflowers
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
CLOVER
Copyright © 2016 by Charlie Jane Anders
THE ART OF SPACE TRAVEL
Copyright © 2016 by Nina Allan
THE DESTROYER
Copyright © 2016 by Tara Isabella Burton
TRAUMPHYSIK
Copyright © 2016 by Monica Byrne
THE HIGH LONESOME FRONTIER
Copyright © 2016 by Rebecca Campbell
LULLABY FOR A LOST WORLD
Copyright © 2016 by Aliette de Bodard
A DEAD DJINN IN CAIRO
Copyright © 2016 by P. Djeli Clark
BREAKING WATER
Copyright © 2016 by Indrapramit Das
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A TRAITOR AND A HALF-SAVAGE
Copyright © 2016 by Alix E. Harrow
THE CITY BORN GREAT
Copyright © 2016 by N. K. Jemisin
EVERYTHING THAT ISN’T WINTER
Copyright © 2016 by Margaret Killjoy
THE WEIGHT OF MEMORIES
Copyright © 2016 by Cixin Liu
THE MAIDEN THIEF
Copyright © 2016 by Melissa Marr
THE CARETAKERS
Copyright © 2016 by David Nickle
YOUR ORISONS MAY BE RECORDED
Copyright © 2016 by Laurie Penny
MEAT+DRINK
Copyright © 2016 by Daniel Polansky
THE THREE LIVES OF SONATA JAMES
Copyright © 2016 by Lettie Prell
THE GREAT DETECTIVE
Copyright © 2016 by Delia Sherman
FINNEGAN’S FIELD
Copyright © 2016 by Angela Slatter
THE WEATHER
Copyright © 2016 by Caighlan Smith
TERMINAL
Copyright © 2016 by Lavie Tidhar
HER SCALES SHINE LIKE MUSIC
Copyright © 2016 by Rajnar Vajra
LA BEAUTé SANS VERTU
Copyright © 2016 by Genevieve Valentine
THAT GAME WE PLAYED DURING THE WAR
Copyright © 2016 by Carrie Vaughn
A FIST OF PERMUTATIONS IN LIGHTNING AND WILDFLOWERS
Copyright © 2016 by Alyssa Wong
All rights reserved.
A Tor Book
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First Edition: November 2016
Some of the Best from Tor.com: 2016 Page 53