Interstellar Fiction has been around for almost a year now, and we’re all very proud of it’s progress. However, a few of us were chatting and have decided that the magazine is not niche enough. We must go deeper. The decision was to start publishing what I affectionately like to call botrotica: robot erotica. We have noticed the success of books like “Fifty Shades of Gray”, and we’re looking for the next one, only involving robots. So if you’re familiar for “Fifty Shades of Gray”, we’re looking for something like “Fifty Shades of Steel and Circuitry”.
We even have a couple of stories ready to publish next month.
- 01001100011011110111011001100101: Code of Love
- Input Required
- A Longing Circuit
- Heart of Titanium
They are all promising, especially if you’re into botrotica. And we’re sure that they’ll get your circuits burnin’ and keep all your appendages fully lubed.
If you’d like more information or would like to submit, just follow this link.
The Phantom Frigate
by Eric Del Carlo | 2,346 words
A giant carrot walked into the bar. No, this isn’t the start of some joke. It glanced around, spotted me and Hitchcock drinking beers, and headed for our table.
“Is this the guy?” Hitch asked anxiously. Anxiety was pretty much his default emotional mode.
“No,” I said, setting down my Bongo Boy. “I’m sure it’s some other Purturalii who just wants an autograph.”
by Michaele Jordan | 6,007 words
David Atchinson scanned the test scores. His own grade, he barely noticed, was a 97. He did, however, observe that his classmates’ grades ranged from 58 to 96. Nearing the bottom of the list, he prepared to heave of sigh of self-congratulation. His eye lit briefly on the third name from the last, and swept on triumphantly to the end. Then, with a sickening double take, he backtracked to Younger, S. – 97.
He pondered Younger, S. at some length, trying to recall who that was.
by Gunnar De Winter | 2,012 words
So, this is how death feels. The last moment has arrived. The final breath. Hopefully, my precautions will have been worth it. And then there is darkness.
Until the drum of life begins its concerto once more. Bombom… Bombom… Bombom… Slithers of thought flicker in and out of existence. As time passes, these slithers slow down and congeal, eventually forming precursors to cognition. Slowly, awareness and sentience return. The memories find their way back home. I remember dying. I remember having my personality, my complete identity, uploaded into the virtual storage. I remember being one of the few who could afford it. I remember my father’s ultimate death, forever perishing from existence. I remember swearing it wouldn’t happen to me.
by Michael Hodges | 4,379 words
The woman opened her mouth to a degree human mouths shouldn’t open. Her eyeballs bulged, no longer containing the aura of a living human being. Rin watched the protest sign she was carrying clatter to the filthy concrete.
Something cracked. Maybe the woman’s jaw.
Screams surrounded him. The woman’s blonde hair writhed on her head, all of it bunching up and coming to a point. The air crackled above her.