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Moobarkfluff!  TickTock sits in for Taebyn this week.  We chat about New Years Traditions from around the world. Are Sardines like Cigars? Should Skittles have a fursona? We play some trivia, read an Edward Gorey Story, and tell some really bad jokes!  Join us, won't you, on this first day of 2022!  Moobarkfluff! 

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Thanks to all our listeners and to our staff: Bearly Normal, Rayne Raccoon, Taebyn, Cheetaro, TickTock, and Ziggy the Meme Weasel.

You can send us a message on Telegram at BFFT Chat, or via email at: bearlyfurcasting@gmail.com

Bearly Furcasting S2E36 - Guest co-host TickTock, New Year's Traditions

Podcast Recap 2021! Updates, Future, and New Content, Fox and Burger Podcast Episode 17. ---- We’re both sad yet happy to finally release the last episode of our podcast for 2021. In this episode, Burger and I talk more about our lives, highlights from the podcast, and future plans for our channel. This episode is much more candid and as a result is slightly longer than our usual episodes. We’re also happy to announce that we are now officially *Fox and Burger Productions*! Expect different kinds of content from us in the future! From the bottom of our hearts, we would like to thank every viewer, fan, and guest of the show. We couldn’t have done it without you all. Have a merry Christmas and a happy New Year! ---- Timestamps: 00:00 Section 1: Introduction 01:47 Burger’s Updates 05:34 Micheal’s Updates 16:09 Michael’s opinions on the podcast 18:14 Burger’s opinions on the podcast 22:36 what stuck out to burger 25:40 what stuck out to fox 28:09 Our favorite episode of 2021 is...! 30:33 What did we assume/learn about other countries? 33:33 What can we do further with the podcast? 38:13 Changes and what to expect 43:15 Our personal goals for the future 48:42 Social media shoutout 50:17 Podcast outro Social Media: Our official Twitter: https://twitter.com/foxandburger Fox: https://twitter.com/foxnakh https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCK9xoFQrxFTNPMjmXfUg2cg Burger: https://twitter.com/L1ghtningRunner http://www.youtube.com/c/LightningRunner Footage Credit: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NX7QNWEGcNI https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R_BA3M5ckV4 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NuKppNScL90 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ULgA6p-v8Hw https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=534DNtOswf0 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s_mb4D2RPRs https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mVCXd97OV98 https://en.ntnu.edu.tw/news-show.php?id=11965 https://foreignbrief.com/daily-news/65535/ https://en.ntnu.edu.tw/p-mtc.php http://www.icatisumut.or.id/tocfl/ https://www.logolynx.com/topic/hsk https://dlsdc.com/blog/better-to-learn-simplified-or-traditional-chinese-characters/# https://www.zenproaudio.com/sennheiser-mkh-416 https://fatllama.com/rentals/maidenhead/hire-sony-a73-mirrorless-camera--sigma-mc11-canon-converter--49637758 https://twitter.com/rwJunoFox/status/1342670397334962178 https://www.indiewire.com/2016/07/game-shows-alec-baldwin-match-game-steve-harvey-taye-diggs-1201702176/ https://www.4gamers.com.tw/news/detail/44283/vvvtunia-launches-nov-24-in-taiwan https://www.heypoorplayer.com/2016/11/22/amnesia-collection-review/ Other pictures and video provided by Pixabay and hosts' personal footage. Intro/Outro Music: Daydream by Eli Way https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2NWGxQyfOr0

The wait is over! Our panel for Infurnity Online 2021 is finally here! In this panel, we interviewed over twenty furs from around the world. We asked them about their experiences in Taiwan and Infurnity. This is the first time Burger and I have done something like this and we enjoyed every minute of it. We want to sincerely thank our guests and volunteer translators for being part of this production. We also want to thank the Infurnity Staff for reaching out to us to do this panel. Note: If you are a Chinese speaker, please turn on Chinese subtitles for 18:43 as we forgot to complete the translation here. We corrected this with YouTube subtitles. Thank you! 如果你是中文母語者，請你打開字幕，我們在18:43忘記把句子寫完，所以我們用YouTube字幕補充，謝謝您。 Guests: Joe, Dusty, Alf, Majira, BerkWolf, Darkou, DreamWolf, Elvin, Gantos, Mangluca, Loprov, Tatsuro, Toki, Tail, Trax, Sora, Panda, Streifi, Cinnabar, Chirros, Skai, CT, Chivilt, Blaze Collie (BitKat), Chaba, Parca, Aulder, Kiyochii, Nero Sparks Special thanks to our translators: Michael (麥可), Kronos, Ray Ting (雷霆), Carbon Thank you Joe and Dreamerwolf for your self-translations. Credits: https://twitter.com/sorairo_husky/status/1367649095540641792?s=20 https://www.vegkitchen.com/scallion-pancakes/ https://junandus.com.my/shop/hazelnut-chocolate-mille-crepe-cake/ https://www.mybarecupboard.com/2015/03/taiwanese-beef-noodle-soup-niu-rou-mian.html https://www.marionskitchen.com/taiwanese-braised-pork-rice/ https://www.hotpot.tv/news/the-top-5-most-recommended-taiwanese-foods-by-locals https://thetakeout.com/how-to-eat-xiao-long-bao-soup-dumplings-1827959964 https://www.chinasichuanfood.com/stuffed-sticky-rice-balls-zi-fantuan/ https://www.instagram.com/p/Bg0vIw3gsRe/ https://www.how-living.com/p/28237/ http://peppers-love.blogspot.com/2013/04/fried-seaweed.html https://eatingshanghai.blogspot.com/2011/02/choudoufu-stinky-tofu.html https://twitter.com/DRAGONGO02/status/1450133043914543108 https://flavorverse.com/taiwanese-foods/ https://www.instagram.com/p/BODD5oxAdxK/ https://www.furaffinity.net/view/33557969/ https://www.tripadvisor.com/Attraction_Review-g13806427-d552542-Reviews-Beitou_Hot_Spring-Beitou_Taipei.html https://www.tripadvisor.com/Attraction_Review-g13806784-d4367836-Reviews-Shifen_Old_Street-Pingxi_New_Taipei.html https://www.tripadvisor.com/Attraction_Review-g13808541-d1380021-Reviews-Taroko_Gorge-Xiulin_Hualien.html https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CDAo2KUTgsM

TigerTails Radio Season 13 Episode 44. Join the Discord Chat: https://discord.gg/SQ5QuRf For a full preview of events and for previous episodes, please visit http://www.tigertailsradio.co.uk. See website for full breakdown of song credits, which is usually updated shortly after the show.

Hi everyone! Its close to the end of 2021 and there's plenty of 2022 news posted recently so here are the highlights: New Years Furry Ball https://www.newyearsfurryball.com/ PDFC https://painteddesertfc.com/ StratosFur will open Dealer Applications on Feb 10th 2022 https://twitter.com/StratosFur/status/1470823425862258692?s=20 Keep Tahoe Furry https://twitter.com/KeepTahoeFurry The Three Other Furry Conventions in CA https://twitter.com/furcon https://twitter.com/pacanthro https://twitter.com/GSFurCon FurSquared returns April 14-17th 2022 https://twitter.com/FurSquared/status/1471319150945615879?s=20 Japan Meeting Of Furries Returns Jan 8-9 2022 https://vr.jmof.jp/en/ Fur-Eh! Returns July 14-17th 2022 https://www.fureh.ca/ Confuzlled will open Registration Dec 29th 7pm UK Time. https://twitter.com/cfconvention/status/1475487946417614852?s=20 If you like the work I do please like/follow/share to support the channel I'm on multiple platforms https://twitter.com/GrovelHusky https://www.twitch.tv/grovelhusky https://t.me/grovelreports Subscribe to show support https://www.youtube.com/c/GrovelHusky/?sub_confirmation=1 Grovel Reports Studio made by Kydek https://twitter.com/FluffyKydek Banners used in the channel were made by Slushi https://twitter.com/Slushi3Brushi3?s=09 Music created for Grovel Husky by Whooshagg https://whooshagg.com/ Grovel Reports Dec 27th 2021 - New Furry Convention Dates + More News #Stratosfur #Confuzlled #KeepTahoeFurry

MOOBARKFLUFF! Click here to send us a comment or message about the show!

Moobarkfluff!  Bearly and Taebyn chat on this Christmas Morning podcast about Christmas, Sardines, and have lot's of bad puns.  We read a story that is a response to the 12 days of Christmas. Taebyn regales us with his 12 Days of Pupmus.  We even make a phone call to the Jolly ol' Elf; Santa!  Who doesn't have a tree? Taebyn. He has a Christmas Fig!   Christmas will never be the same again.  Moobarkfluff!

 

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Thanks to all our listeners and to our staff: Bearly Normal, Rayne Raccoon, Taebyn, Cheetaro, TickTock, and Ziggy the Meme Weasel.

You can send us a message on Telegram at BFFT Chat, or via email at: bearlyfurcasting@gmail.com

Bearly Furcasting S2E35 -Merry Christmas Every Fur!

Hi everyone! AnthroNW will have a VR event on Dec 26th 2021 which means the current world will be replaced with their new one. This world is on SDK2 and the new one will be on SDK3. With only a few days left I wanted to make sure I could show the world before its no longer accessible in its current state. Main Website: https://www.anthronw.com/ Here is a link to the world if you want to check it out. https://vrchat.com/home/launch?worldId=wrld_7d7594a6-7de2-43d3-b927-16f222a2a656 Is there a world you would like Grovel to explore? Please let me know cause I love seeing what is out there in the VR world. If you like the work I do please like/follow/share to support the channel I'm on multiple platforms https://twitter.com/GrovelHusky https://www.twitch.tv/grovelhusky https://t.me/grovelreports Subscribe to show support https://www.youtube.com/c/GrovelHusky/?sub_confirmation=1 Lets Explore Anthro NorthWest's 2020 VR World #AnthroNW #AnthroNorthWest #ANW2020

Canadian convention Fur-Eh! said Monday (Dec 20), a possible COVID-19 close contact attended their Christmas in-person event. They say the attendee had “some symptoms” of COVID. Fur-Eh! adds, the attendee may have a breakthrough COVID case in their family. A “breakthrough” case means someone who got COVID-19 after taking the vaccine. The attendee tested for […]

TigerTails Radio Season 13 Episode 43. Join the Discord Chat: https://discord.gg/SQ5QuRf For a full preview of events and for previous episodes, please visit http://www.tigertailsradio.co.uk. See website for full breakdown of song credits, which is usually updated shortly after the show.

Klik and Firebreath talk about con running with Aeden and Scani!





NOW LISTEN!
SHOW NOTES
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Aeden, our guest
Scani, our guest

PATREON LOVE
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MUSIC

Opening Theme: RetroSpecter – Cloud Fields (RetroSpecter Mix). USA: Unpublished, 2018. ©2011-2018 Fur What It’s Worth. Based on Fredrik Miller – Cloud Fields (Century Mix). USA: Bandcamp, 2011. ©2011 Fur What It’s Worth. (Buy a copy here – support your fellow furs!)
First Break: Heaven and Hell - Jeremy Blake, Creative Commons, 2018.
Second Break: Mystery Skulls – Ghost. USA: Warner Bros Records, 2011. Used with permission.
Third Break: Light (Remix), Argofox, Creative Commons 2019.
Closing Theme: RetroSpecter – Cloud Fields (RetroSpecter Chill Mix). USA: Unpublished, 2018. ©2011-2018 Fur What It’s Worth. Based on Fredrik Miller – Cloud Fields (Chill Out Mix). USA: Bandcamp, 2011. ©2011 Fur What It’s Worth. (Buy a copy here – support your fellow furs!) S9 Episode 14 – Conrunning - Klik and Firebreath talk about con running with Aeden and Scani! - NOW LISTEN! SHOW NOTES SPECIAL THANKS Aeden, our guest Scani, our guest - PATREON LOVE The following people have decided this month’s Fur What It’s Worth is

MOOBARKFLUFF! Click here to send us a comment or message about the show!

Moobarkfluff!  Bearly and Taebyn chat about lots of things, we read a story: Super Torta. Just how badly can we massacre a language? After all that we tell some really bad jokes. It's not a long episode, but it's a good one! Join us, won't you, on this furtacular adventure into the unknown!  Moobarkfluff!

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Support the show

Thanks to all our listeners and to our staff: Bearly Normal, Rayne Raccoon, Taebyn, Cheetaro, TickTock, and Ziggy the Meme Weasel.

You can send us a message on Telegram at BFFT Chat, or via email at: bearlyfurcasting@gmail.com

Bearly Furcasting S2E34 - Furries in the News, Storytime, Jokes

Dear Papabear,

Hello. I have a question regarding physical and mental health. Lately, I have been unhappy with my body, and I always tell myself, “I will get into shape when I get home!” But when I get home, I just give up. I just feel so … defeated right now. Do you happen to have a strategy to keep your mind focused on exercise, and how to keep a positive self image?

Cooper the Moth

* * *

Dear Cooper,

Thank you for your great question. This is a problem that many people — furry and non-furry alike — struggle with.  Do I assume correctly the problem is that you feel you are overweight and that when you say "mental health" you simply mean getting in the right frame of mind to get in shape? It's really not a mental health issue, unless you're having a problem with self-esteem?

Let's start with basics. Our worries about how our bodies look are largely dependent on what we feel others think of us and what society dictates is the ideal body type. It also has to do with health, of course. So, the first question is, "Why do you wish to lose weight? Is it because people are body shaming you, or is it because you don't feel well and want to be healthier?" I know people who are perfectly thin, yet they tell me all the time that they are fat and feel like slobs. This is the result of family, peers, colleagues, and TV commercials shaming them. We also blame people for being overweight, but the food and restaurant industries in the USA conspire to fill us with fat and sugar. Most Americans also work at sedentary jobs, then they drive home and sit in front of the TV all night. This is all encouraged by our current society, which then blames YOU for being overweight. Doctors are often part of the problem when they insist on us adhering to the BMI (Body Mass Index) recommendations, which are often absurd and inaccurate. BMI standards vary from country to country and cannot measure the difference between fat and muscle weight.

The first step, then, toward having a positive body image is to ignore outside opinions of what your body should look like. Your first priority is to be healthy. That doesn't necessarily mean weighing 90 pounds. You can be beefy and healthy.  Have you seen the men who are in those strongest men competitions?  If you took their BMI measurements, it would say they were fat! 

Okay, so you throw away outside opinion and just work on being healthy. Step one is to see your doctor and assess your current health.  I have no idea if you have any medical conditions, but things like having a bad back or diabetes or circulation problems can and should influence your course of action in getting in shape. 

Next, assess your dietary needs. If you're eating a lot of junk food and McDonald's, you need to quit that right now. Also, don't drink soda and don't eat processed foods. Eat fresh foods whenever possible. Just doing this will have an amazingly positive effect on your weight and health.

Finally, start an exercise regimen that suits your needs. You don't have to work out at a gym 12 hours a day and run marathons to be in shape. Start slow. Exercise just 10-15 minutes a day. EVERYone has at least 10 minutes to fit in some exercise. And exercise can include many things. Take a walk (walking a mile burns fat just as much as running a mile), ride a bike, play some basketball. Just get active. As long as you're moving, you're doing your body some good. Find a sport or other activity you enjoy and exercise will be fun and not seem like work at all. Remember, small. This will prevent you from feeling overwhelmed. I imagine that when you say you're going to go home and get in shape that you are thinking something like, "I'm going to go home and lift weights for an hour." Then, you get home and that goal just seems really intimidating and, let's face it, exhausting, so you go to the pantry and grab a sleeve of Pringles and watch TV instead. Inertia is a bitch.

So, there are my three pieces of advice: 1) stop listening to outside critics; 2) eat fresh foods; and 3) get active by doing fun stuff and/or taking small steps toward getting more active.

Hope that helps!

Hugs,
Papabear

中文：福瑞在蓝色起源号上完成破纪录的航天飞行

FurUM 2021 on VR Starting off from Southeast Asia. First, to Malaysia. Local convention Furs Upon Malaysia, or FurUM, published their 2021 events timetable. They will hold this event, called FVRUM, on the social gaming platform VRChat. Their venue is a recreation of their real-life venue, Armada Hotel. There will be panels and dance sessions […]

Tempo talks with Sarah Granke, a sexual health educator, equal-rights activist, and policy-maker in the province of Nova Scotia, Canada. She led a team that created the two-part animated short film "Sexual Violence with the Birds and the Bees." The videos feature anthro birds and bees navigating common situations and present realistic options helping promote consent. "Sexual Violence with the Birds and the Bees" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=87lUoaGhUbU https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ilglSpeqpx8 Special thanks to Dralen Dragonfox for audio editing assistance! Art: Slate Dragon https://furaffinity.net/user/slate Merch, Sweet Tees and stuff: https://culturally-fd-merchandise.creator-spring.com/ Support Culturally F'd: https://www.patreon.com/culturallyfd Listen in on TEMPO TALKS with Tempe O'Kun https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLIPk-itLl1jPyIK2c7mK-LpbvfDNqfcSW Check out Tempe O'Kun's books "Sixes Wild" and "Windfall" here: http://furplanet.com/shop/?affillink=YOUTU2907 Here's a playlist of his other Culturally F'd videos: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLIPk-itLl1jPS7tnT4hdJwBI-CeLF8Kb_

GFTV OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT 国际兽视官方公告 On Dec 17 (Friday), Southeast Asia’s biggest furry fandom media channel Global Furry Television (GFTV) merged their English and Chinese-language podcast news channels. From now on, GFTV’s English and Chinese-language editions will all be in one place. A new album cover debuted as part of this change. With immediate effect, GFTV’s […]

Welcome to Issue 13 of Zooscape!

A new day is dawning for furry fiction.

Science-fiction was once a looked-down-upon genre, small and shoved off to the side, kept away from serious literature, back at the turn of the previous century.  Now, it’s a booming field, filling the airwaves with blockbusters.

Well, furry fiction already has blockbusters.  Now it’s time to start labeling them.  If it’s about talking animals, it’s furry.  If it’s about talking dragons or gryphons or unicorns, it’s furry.  There is furry fiction mixed up all throughout the other speculative fiction genres, and readers who want to find it are ready to see it labeled properly under a name that lets them find it.

This will be the century when furry fiction rises up, and we’re here to be a part of that.

We’re here to raise up furry fiction.

* * *

Rabbitheart by Archita Mittra

Scale Baby by M. H. Ayinde

To Gentle the Wind by Deborah L. Davitt

A Star Without Shine by Naomi Kritzer

Be Productive Like Cha-Cha by Katlina Sommerberg

The Incandescence of Her Simulacrum by Logan Thrasher Collins

A Chance to Breathe by Daniel Ausema

* * *

As always, if you want to support Zooscape, check out our Patreon.  Also, please consider us and our stories when you’re making nominations and voting for awards in the coming year.

NOTE: if you’re curious about what awards eligible work we published last year, check out our brand new Awards Eligibility Post.

by Daniel Ausema

“…the beaked natives ambled over to inspect the immigrants and welcome those allowed to stay.  Tirket calmed her breathing.  Don’t let her cough now.”

The passenger ship floated down to land, and Tirket wasn’t the only one to cough and wheeze.  Her carapace ached as it stretched with each heaving breath.  The weeks in the hold hadn’t been a kindness to any of them.  She pushed toward the nearest window, longing to see the city — the songbird city with its fabled machine-craft.  The doctors promised she might breathe easier there in the dry air.  In her mind it was a wide land of bulbous buildings and sprawling parks, bronze and green.  Of fresh air that welcomed the fluttering of her wings, air that tasted of flowers.

The windows, though, were rimed in salt too thick to see through clearly, and the sailors wouldn’t let them above until the airship was secure.

Tirket circled her antennae impatiently and focused on breathing.  A tang of oil set her to coughing again.

At last the doors opened.  Treated bamboo framed the towering buildings beside the airship, and the beaked natives ambled over to inspect the immigrants and welcome those allowed to stay.  Tirket calmed her breathing.  Don’t let her cough now.  Let her seem as healthy as anyone could be after such a journey over the ocean.  The engines of the airship hissed above her head.

While she fell in line with the other immigrants, a troop of humans ran past, each the height of one of her leg segments.  They chattered high-pitched instructions and unloaded the airship’s luggage.

“What are your skills, beetle?”

Tirket had been so absorbed in how she would convince the bird doctors of her health that she didn’t understand the question at first.  The words made sense, even coming from a beak.  She’d spent months before boarding the airship learning the native language.  But they didn’t form a complete thought.

“My skills?  Oh.”  Stifle that cough.  “I’m quick with my legs.”  She waved two pairs in front of the bird.  With their impractical wings, the birds always needed such help, though Tirket knew she wouldn’t survive factory work on her lungs.  She only needed to get through, then she could find a way to the frontier where they didn’t care what kind of lungs you had.  They can’t ask about my health.  Don’t let them.  The air here was dry, and that felt good, but smoke and oil trickled into her lungs.

“You fly too?”  The bird gestured with a wing at her back.

Tirket flexed, and they shuddered, but she shook her head.  “Only slow myself from falling.”

Without a question about her health, without any exam at all, the bird waved her on to one doorway that already had its own line of immigrants.  Beetles, as the natives called them.  Tirket had learned the word early in her studies, a derisive term, but she wouldn’t let it bother her.  As long as they let her in.  Through this door, past the bamboo wall… she pictured arrows on the ground to direct her beyond the city to clustered sacs of promised fresh air.  Lungs become geography.

“It will be a long wait.”  A crested bird paced beside the line, trailed by a troop of humans, their arms for the moment empty.  Tirket thought he might be some kind of woodpecker.  “They’ll be sending you to your assigned jobs, and you’ll likely be late for dinner.  If hunger takes you, though…”  The bird swept a wing back.

Where?  He seemed to indicate the airship behind them.  Or maybe the open flag where the ship rested for unloading and maintenance.  “Take any you want.  They are quite tasty.  I will be the one you pay, and we ask only that you not snatch one who is carrying gear at the moment.”

The humans.  The bird was offering the slaves for their snacks.  Tirket’s stomach clenched, and she looked away.  Hunger did grow, though, as the line crept forward.  The first time a passing bird grabbed a human, everyone in line cringed and turned away.  As evening came, several of the immigrants pooled some money and shared one amongst themselves.  She’d come with some money, knowing she couldn’t expect to earn much through work, but even as the others in line gave in to hunger, she wasn’t tempted.  Eyes closed, she focused on the dry air.

Her breaths wheezed by the time she came to the front.  She scarcely listened as the robin within explained where she’d work the next day, what she’d have to do with the massive steam engines, what would be expected.  She only listened to where she’d have to go.  The sky, when she emerged, was dark, the cooler air a relief to her lungs.  She enjoyed it only briefly before she was led into a brick-and-bamboo building, a dark shape that blocked most of the remaining light, and shown to her bed.

* * *

Tirket couldn’t work in the morning.  Her breath was strangled by oily smoke and exhaustion.  Some leeway seemed allowed to those just off the boat, because the others didn’t try to push her out when the steam whistles blew. She lay in bed and imagined snow on the ground, dry mountain air.

At mid-morning, at last, she pulled herself upright and clambered to the wall at the end of the room, leaning against bunks as she went.  A window, tall and narrow, gave a view of neighboring roofs below them.  The city stretched farther than she’d imagined.  As far as the hazy air obscured the horizon she could see buildings, not bulbous as she’d pictured, but showing the distinctive bamboo frames filled with red bricks.  Smoke or steam rose from nearly all the buildings.

Streets cut between them, in places drawn ruler-straight — probably where a fire had razed earlier factories — and in others tight-twisted and narrow.  Steam cars cruised along the streets, many open to the smoggy air.  Not once did Tirket see one of her insect-like people in those cars.  Only the native birds rode, unless perhaps the closed-roof cars hid beetle riders.  Tiny humans darted about the streets or rode in caged trailers behind the cars.  She looked at the sky for airships, but the window faced away from the airfield.

As she pulled herself back along the bunks, high-pitched laughter echoed off the walls, and two humans raced in, playing some sort of game.

“Oh.”  One pulled up short and stared at her.  The other stepped away from the first and echoed her… or him, Tirket couldn’t tell with humans.  Tirket waved a leg to tell them not to worry, but her lungs wouldn’t let her speak.

“We’re just… we’re here to clean.”

Tirket coughed, still trying to wave them on and move herself toward her bed.  It was too much at once, and the humans rushed over to support her.  In bed she closed her eyes and wheezed.  As her lungs found the air to calm her, she realized her hunger.  What had she eaten since leaving the airship?  Nothing.  Without thought, she said aloud, “I’m hungry.”

There was noise around her, but she couldn’t identify it.  It didn’t sound like cleaning.  When she opened her eyes, both humans knelt beside her bed, trembling, their heads bowed.  “You may choose,” one said in a pinched voice.

Tirket couldn’t even bring any of her legs up to push the idea away.  “No, I…”  The words had no force to them, no breath to give them sound.  “Food.  Bring me.  Whatever.  From the kitchen.”  Her eyes closed, and she heard human voices that never resolved into words.

She woke to a steam whistle.  A tray of food lay beside her bed, and she hurriedly ate it before the workers returned.  It was a tasteless mush but filled her stomach pleasantly.  She fell back asleep before the others came in.

* * *

The next morning brought her some questioning looks, but still no one forced her from the room or asked after her health.  The same humans came early in the morning with another tray of food.  “What are your names?”  Their eyes widened, and they backed away without answering.  If they cleaned the room again, it must have been while she slept.

They returned in the afternoon and stood beside her bed, shifting their feet.

“I’m Rae,” one said.  Or Ray, maybe.  “And I’m Tay.”  Both had long hair and features that looked the same to her.  One — Rae, she thought — had darker skin than the other.

“Thank you, both.”  With one leg she pointed at where the tray had been —gone now, she noticed.  Her lungs labored on the city air.  “Might you know of anywhere I could sleep with an open window?”

Tay cocked his (her?) head.  “Why?”

Tirket coughed.  “The cool, night air.  It’s… I can breathe it better.”

Rae shook her (his?) head.  “No windows.”

“Maybe the roof, though.”

“Maybe,” the other one echoed.

They left without saying anything else, and Tirket fell asleep.  She woke in the night to movement.  The sounds of sleepers filled the room, but that hadn’t woken her.  She’d been moved.  She lay in a smaller bed, one that had no upper bunk.  Some fifteen or so humans surrounded her, carrying the bed out of the room.  She propped herself up, but Tay or Rae leaned in and signaled for silence.  She lay her head down and let them carry her up steps and onto the flat roof.  They buried her in a mound of blankets, and she breathed the cool air until she slept.

* * *

During the days that followed, Tirket came down to the main dormitory.  The other workers would already be gone and the sun beginning to heat the city air.  She slept, despite the hours she’d slept in the night on the roof, and dreamed of how she might escape the city.  Tay and Rae brought her food and even talked with her about their work, the building, the songbird natives.  After several days she broached the subject of leaving the city.

“I can’t catch my breath here.  The doctors in the old country prescribed clean air and promised it to me here.”

“Beyond the city?”  The idea confounded them.  Some of the humans there had traveled within the city, they explained, but Rae and Tay had been born in that building and always lived there, working, afraid of hungry birds and beetles.  They agreed to find out what they could.

“You have money?” they asked her the next day.  “You can ride in a cab, if you can pay.”

“I have some.”  More than most immigrants to be honest.  Most came because they had little to begin with, desperate for work and the chance to make their own fortune.  She’d come not wealthy but comfortable, with her family’s blessing.  “Can you summon the cab for me?”

They supported her down to the street that afternoon.  The cabbie stepped from his car and stared at them, humans and a beetle, snacks and dumb labor.  She saw the thought in his eyes.

“I want you to take me to the edge of the city.”

“Can’t, miss.”  The cabbie was already returning to his seat.  “This is a city cab, for birds only.  You’ll have to find a bus or walk.”  The last words were deadened by the shut door, and the cab pulled away.

“A bus?”  Tirket looked at the milling group of humans.  How terrible to be outside like this where any passing person might choose them for food.  She led them inside and stopped at the base of the stairs.  Cracked tiles threw off her balance, and the stuffy air forced her to sit, to breathe as deeply as she could.

One human squeaked a reply.  “No buses.  Not this time of year.  They mainly run in the winter.”

They trickled away until only Rae and Tay were left.  “I can’t walk, can I?  It’s too far.”

Damn her lungs.  Damn the consumption that made them weak!  She let them walk on each side of her, up the narrow steps straight to the roof.  The day air was no easier on her lungs than inside, and the light made it harder to sleep, but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered.  Might as well languish in the bedclothes, become a symbol, a woman for someone to love selflessly — or at least tell himself that, because her imminent death meant his love would never be tested.  Such was the fate of those with her illness back home.

Her tossing dreams showed her the buildings of the city, but transformed.  Bamboo formed the walls, but not dried and reinforced.  Entire buildings waved in a smoky wind, as bamboo stalks will in the wild.  But there was nothing of the wild in the image, despite that resemblance.  Everything seemed constructed, even the glaring sunshine where it broke through the smog.

Great engines swallowed their workers.  Brass craftsmen — all of them native birds — marched in step to showcase their wares.  Shifts of factory workers shuffled in unison to the beat of a deep whistle.  And there she was, above the throngs, encased in her bed on top of a swaying building.  She saw herself from outside, face and blankets alike turned to an icy slate.  A line of beetles climbed ever toward her, intent on worshiping her still form, but each time one reached the roof, human hands dragged him up and tossed him down the other side.

Tirket sat up, awake beneath cold stars.  The dream images faded slowly as her lungs gulped air.  She wouldn’t let it happen.  Despair was not in her, not for one who had crossed the seas and skies in a cramped airship for this chance.  Somewhere open land waited for her, land even she could work, because the air would be clean and dry.  Somewhere a clearing in a high valley longed for a mud cabin to be built by her six legs.

If she had to crawl building by building, she would.  Night by night, wrapped in blankets, her days she could spend wherever the night left her, tucked within an unlocked doorway, huddled on the street, maybe even on neighboring roofs, if she could find the way and the strength to climb.  It might take a month, but she wouldn’t stay to become a symbol of empty fantasies.

The street was empty when she reached it, but the trip down had taken longer than she’d hoped.  Her lungs couldn’t find the air, and she had to rest.  At this rate it would take a month just to cross a block, a lifetime to reach the wilderness.  A healthy lifetime, that is.  If she had to stay in the city, Tirket’s lifetime would be much shorter.

Dawn neared, and the morning’s first cars whistled their ignition.  Air whistled in and out of her lungs too, and she imagined them as steam engines, decrepit, failing.  Clogged with the film left from inferior coal.  She stumbled across the street, unable to look anywhere but straight ahead.  Someone yelled at her, but why she didn’t know.

Along the building opposite, she kept her hand on the wall, pulling herself as well as she could.  Smog gathered in her lungs, and the air warmed up.  She collapsed in a recessed side door of the building.  She didn’t think her breathing would let her sleep, but she did, curled against the unused door.  Once a bird woke her, asking her business, but the look in her insect eyes must have been all the answer he needed.

When night came she struggled to her feet.  The buildings swayed as they had in her dream, though she knew it was only her dizziness.  She tried to focus ahead, to pick one spot and aim for it, but her head kept pulling down.  Her goal became simply one more step, that next crack in the pavement, that bit of debris, the base of a street-lamp.

Tirket couldn’t guess how much of the night had passed —she hadn’t gone far, however much it was — when someone came up beside her.  Rae, she thought, and Tay on the other side.  Then a dozen more human hands grabbed her, eased her back onto a pile of blankets.

“What…”  Was this some kind of betrayal with the humans bringing her back to their bird masters?

The blankets moved, a cot that the humans carried underneath her.  Not to bring her back, but continuing along the street.

“Why…”  She looked to either side at Rae and Tay and the other interchangeable humans carrying her.  “There must be thousands of us every year.  Beetles,” she gave the word all the derision that the birds used, “overrunning your city, preying on your people.”

Tay looked away from her as if the answer was embarrassing.

Rae answered though, dark face crinkling in an expression Tirket couldn’t interpret.  “Maybe it’s because you didn’t.  Didn’t prey on us, I mean.  And others saw that you didn’t, saw you turn away in disgust throughout that first day.  We asked around about you, and those people at the airstrip remembered.”

Maybe.  Tirkit doubted that explained it all though.  She imagined an underground movement among the humans, resistance groups that Rae and Tay stumbled on as they made their inquiries about getting her out of the city.  She’d be a symbol for them.  An image of overcoming the songbird city, of fighting even when it became difficult to continue.  But much better to be a symbol for resistance than a symbol for empty romantic gestures.

The cot jolted and jerked as they walked, and Tirket had no answer.  Engines still sounded, even in the night, and the streets were not fully empty.  Her human carriers huddled against the bed but walked as confidently as they dared — her antennae tensed with their mingled fear and determination — and they made good time.

Tirket phased in and out of wakefulness, and it could have been dreams or simply waking imagination, but she saw how they must look from above.  The bed floating along dark streets.  Her own insect head propped on a pillow, the rest of her swallowed by heavy blankets —white and blue — that also hid most signs of the little humans carrying her.  Only a careful observer would note their heads and pale clothing.  They moved as fast as was reasonable, but the city dwarfed their strides, so the bed did not race but must seem instead something from a dream itself.

What stories might an insomniac tell in the morning of her night-time visions?  A beetle goddess leaving the city?  A lonely death parade for the nameless, dying workers?  No one would believe it.

They would not reach the edge of the city that night, but that didn’t bother Tirket.  The humans would find a place for her bed and sleep beneath it through the day, safe from hungry passersby and angry owners come to retrieve them.  They would make it out of the city some night, and then beyond.  When the air grew clear enough, she would walk, and with Tay and Rae and whichever of the rest wished, she could establish her homestead, them free of predators and her free to breathe air clean and dry.

For the moment, she lay back and breathed as well as she could, and the city of the songbirds floated by.

 

* * *

About the Author

Daniel Ausema’s fiction and poetry have appeared in many places, including Strange Horizons, Daily Science Fiction, and Diabolical Plots. His high fantasy trilogy The Arcist Chronicles is published by Guardbridge Books, and he is the creator of the steampunk-fantasy Spire City series, set in a world of beetle-drawn carriages and chained singers. He lives with his family in Colorado, at the foot of the Rockies.

by Logan Thrasher Collins

“Eudaimonia used a pseudopodium to absorb the luminous spherule and store its data in the sponge’s biomolecular memoryspace.”

Eudaimonia woke in wetspace, conscious yet missing bodily form. She could not see or hear, though her mind’s dynamical oscillations conjured phantasmagoric flashes of illusory blue and purple light. But this was to be expected. Eudaimonia’s brain had been stored on a biological computer under the flesh of a sea sponge. The sponge’s computational organ consisted of a dense pellet of cellular nanomachinery, packed chock full of ribonucleic memristors and multiplexers. After a few minutes of adjusting to the shock of the new cognitive vessel, Eudaimonia turned on the sponge’s senses. She had paid handsomely in squishcoin to spend a few hours in this sponge. Eudaimonia had an important purpose here. She was not about to waste her money.

As sensory nanofilaments fed into the sponge’s computational organ, a shock of light and texture burst into Eudaimonia’s awareness. She found herself partially submerged in a tidepool at the edge of a vast salty ocean. Though this planet was far from Earth, somewhere in the M4 globular star cluster, massive terraforming efforts had turned it into a fairly Earthlike world. But Eudaimonia did not care much about the details of this planet’s location or geobiology. Eudaimonia just wanted to know why Desdemona had left the starship Remora. Why Desdemona had left her behind.

It had taken months of cybertrawling to find Desdemona’s location. But Eudaimonia’s efforts had paid off. Casting in a space with a volume of thousands of light years, she had nailed down Desdemona’s coordinates to the cubic meter. Down to this very tide pool. In this day and age, no one could stay hidden forever.

Per Eudaimonia’s will, the sponge emitted a gush of inky quorumstuff. The juice contained nanites which would allow her to communicate with Desdemona through an exchange of electrochemical signals.

“Hey there darling.” The sponge had no ears, but its computational organ translated the electrochemistry into audio. Despite her misgivings, Eudaimonia felt a sense of warmth spreading through her sponge’s tactile network.

“Hello my love,” she replied. It had been a long time since they had first met at Discotheque de Kosmos. Memories of a peppermint-sweet first kiss flashed into Eudaimonia’s mind. As Eudaimonia reminisced, a spiky crab crept from a crevice in the slimy rocks. Eudaimonia could see Desdemona’s signature baroque style in the crab’s obsidian and golden pigmentation. When in human form, virtual or flesh, Desdemona had often worn dresses and tattoos with those colors.

“I know why you’re here,” Desdemona stated. “You want me to come back.”

“I want to know why you vanished,” Eudaimonia replied tremulously.

“You sought to explore the galaxy and achieve greatness through your art and your science. I got hooked on Voluptuous. I couldn’t let my addiction hold you back. You saw me using it. You should have known what would happen.”

Eudaimonia remembered opening a door aboard the Remora to see Desdemona jacked into a linkup, shivering with ecstasy. Eudaimonia had immediately ripped out the jack. At first, Desdemona had fought with violent screams. But she had eventually calmed and promised to cease doing Voluptuous. Eudaimonia had been eager to leave the nightmarish evening as far behind as possible.

“But that was just once. I thought you stopped after that.”

Desdemona laughed bitterly and the crab quivered. “I lied. I couldn’t stop. It felt too good. Better than anything else. Better than you.”

Eudaimonia gazed at the crab with shock and dismay. It hurt like getting stabbed in the kidney with a shard of obsidian.

“Look… I’m sorry. Voluptuous got me. It incorporated itself into my soulfile and I can’t get it out without dying. I wish so so very much that I could have stayed, but I couldn’t. It’s awful. I’m a fool who let you down. I used Voluptuous and now I’m stuck hiding in this pool, jacking myself into it again and over again.” Desdemona gestured with her claws at the hole in the rocks.

Of all the possibilities for why Desdemona had left, Eudaimonia had not expected this one. She had thought she herself had done something wrong. Some little mistake which would have made Desdemona hate her. It would have been better if Desdemona had hated her.

“When you leave… take this with you,” Desdemona exclaimed suddenly. The crab pulled an incandescent pearl from beneath its shell.

“What’s that for?” Eudaimonia asked dejectedly.

“Let’s call it a fresh start. It’s a backup copy of my soul from before Voluptuous. You have to understand though; it won’t remember anything that happened between then and now, and it won’t really be me. I’ll still be here in this tidepool, jacking myself into the machine until Voluptuous kills me.” Desdemona took a deep breath. “But the pearl contains all that remains of who I should’ve been.”

Eudaimonia felt the urge to cry, but the sponge had no nasolacrimal ducts. “Are you… are you sure this is the only way?”

“Darling, this isn’t all that bad.” The crab smiled sadly, to as much of a degree as a crab can smile sadly. “I know it hurts to let the first me go. But my memory will live on in the new me. You and she can build the life you’ve both wanted. I need you to do this.” The crab gently nudged the pearl towards the sponge. Eudaimonia used a pseudopodium to absorb the luminous spherule and store its data in the sponge’s biomolecular memoryspace.

“So, this is goodbye I suppose.” Eudaimonia stated quietly.

“Perhaps in some ways my darling.”

“I love you.” Eudaimonia said.

“She will love you till the stars burn out.” Desdemona promised.

Eudaimonia willed the sponge to beam her mind back to the Remora, carrying the precious cargo of Desdemona’s new soul. Eudaimonia felt her consciousness reload into a human body aboard the Remora. She opened the palm of her hand to see the incandescent pearl, its angelic glow pulsating like a heartbeat. Eudaimonia felt her heart flutter too.

 

* * *

About the Author

Logan Thrasher Collins is a synthetic biologist, futurist, and author. He is also a PhD candidate in biomedical engineering at Washington University in St. Louis and is the Chief Technology Officer at Conduit Computing. Logan’s science-fiction and sci-fi poetry have been published in Andromeda Spaceways Magazine, Abyss & Apex Magazine, Mithila Review, The Centropic Oracle, After Dinner Conversation, and elsewhere. For Logan, scientific research and creative writing enjoy a symbiotic relationship. His writing fuels his science and his science fuels his writing. You can learn more about Logan on his website: https://logancollinsblog.com/.

by Katlina Sommerberg

“Cha-Cha clawed at the shining eye, but it repelled his strikes.”

Cha-Cha the crow landed atop the human cadaver. He had watched the man misstep from a high-rise apartment, clip his head on the waiting hovercar, and splat in front of Cha-Cha’s lucky dumpster. Looking for shiny bits, Cha-Cha jumped off the man’s shoulder to the messy mop of blond hair.

The corpse had two blue eyes, but one shone in the morning sun.

Cha-Cha clawed at the shining eye, but it repelled his strikes. He chittered human-speak excitedly to himself. He hopped onto the corpse’s cheek and ripped out the eyelid. Thanks to countless practice, Cha-Cha extracted the bionic eye in 27 seconds. He grabbed it by the optic nerve, the eye dangling from the organic wire and bumping his chest.

In two wingbeats, Cha-Cha took flight. He headed for the closest prosthetics lab, where he’d exchange the eye for a week’s supply of peanuts.

 

* * *

About the Author

Katlina Sommerberg is living xyr best queer life in Portland. Previously a security engineer, xe left the industry after working in cryptocurrency and defense contracting. Unfortunately, hacking in real life is always boring or unethical, with no in-between. Xe has quadrice been honorably mentioned in the Writers of the Future Contest, and links to xyr published work is available at https://sommerbergssf.carrd.co/#