In October of 2172—the year the Election show came to town—Julian Comstock and I, along with his mentor Sam Godwin, rode to the Tip east of Williams Ford, where I came to possess a book, and Julian tutored me in one of his heresies (1).

Robert Charles Wilson has established a reputation not just as one of the age's finest science fiction writers, but as a fine literary writer, whose spin on our…

An unidentified flying object is exactly what it says on the tin: Something moving through the air which the observer can't put a name to. I've seen one... for about half a second, before my brain caught up with my eyes and said, "It's an aeroplane viewed from side on as it moves on a landing trajectory. You can't see the wings because you're exactly in line with them. The tail is the same colour as the sky".

It was hardly a thrilling scene…

I forgot to wear your necklace today.

I saw it on my dresser when I came up to bed, instinctively reached for the place on my chest where the pendant would hang. Bare skin. I ran my fingers lightly up to my neck, looked up into the mirror, saw where the silver chain should have been. It was on the dresser. A scrap of rock and metal. A scrap of you.

I put it on, stared at the mirror in the dark, barely able to make it out against my skin. Remembered how it looked next to…

A long time ago, in a galaxy, far, far away, nerds got all pissy because a popular film called Star Wars lost out on best picture Oscar to one called Annie Hall.

Know what? Annie Hall totally deserved to win. Because back then, in a galaxy far, far away, Woody Allen made awesome pictures. He turned out stuff like Stardust Memories and…