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OUR MAY 2010 ISSUE
It’s not uncommon to hear a gripping story described as a “page turner,” but this month we have a real one for you: “Page Turner” is its name. It’s by Rajnar Vajra, so it won’t surprise you to hear that it’s not quite like anything you’ve ever read. But neither will it surprise you to find that, despite its close-to-home setting, it weaves a fascinating array of ideas, offbeat characters, and distinctly unordinary happenings into something uniquely exotic, highly entertaining, and memorable.
H. G. Stratmann is back with a story completely different from his recent series, while David W. Goldman, a newcomer who made a considerable splash with his first couple of stories here, returns with his first new one in much too long. The rest of the fiction line-up covers a wide spectrum with entries from Lee Goodloe, Walter L. Kleine, David D. Levine, and Rick Cook.
The fact article, by Stella Fitzgibbons, MD, sounds as science-fictional as anything else in the issue, but it’s actually about things with which you may come (at least figuratively) face-to-face on your next hospital visit. It’s called “Robots Don’t Leave Scars: What’s New in Medical Robotics?”
analog is up in space! chosen for the library
on the international space station.
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Page Turner
by Rajnar Vajra
Extraordinary events can happen in very ordinary places. . . .
Let me hand you the whole picture. I’m in trouble, real trouble, and can’t do a blessed thing about it. And I’m hurting and tired and cold, and God knows I’m scared. So the game’s name for me right now is SURVIVAL, which means I’ve got to invent distractions and more distractions to fight this urge I’m getting to—to just give up.
Yesterday, I think it was yesterday, I reviewed the high spots of my life—more hills than mountains, sad to say—then told myself every joke I could remember. None of that pleased me much, but at least it killed a few hours. Then I decided to indulge in acting out the fantasy that’s molded my daydreams for the last two years. Don’t laugh. The idea is that I’m at the bookstore where I work, during a weekly session of our writer’s club, the Literary Lions. But instead of being a salesperson cum barista cum waitress merely serving the wordsmiths, I’m one of them, reading her latest baby out loud. Don’t you think that would be so satisfying, sharing something you’ve created with a group that can appreciate and intelligently critique your art?
That may not be your fantasy, but it’s mine, and I tried to really get into it, imagining I was ensconced in one of the big circles of dusty armchairs, sitting with a writer’s typical bad posture: shoulders rounded, head jutting forward, back slumped. But when I started my tale, just making stuff up impromptu, the love was missing. Took me a while to figure out why.
read more
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Encounter in a Yellow Wood
by Bud Sparhawk
The trouble with long range plans is that a stage that lasts a long time doesn’t feel like a stage. . . .
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