Kzine Issue 8

by Graeme Hurry

  I hobbled my way through the gallery, viewing The Lesson, Subway Accident, The Hanging, The Reading, and others with dispassion. After what I’d seen, these no longer had the power to terrify or disgust me.

  That is, until I came to the photography wall. There were the same photos I’d seen before, of canine-featured grotesqueries, squatting monstrosities, and other abominations. Like the paintings, these no longer had the power to shock or appall.

  Until I came to the last one.

  It was a photographic facsimile of The Altar, and only by a supreme effort was I able to keep from swooning.

  The woman on the altar was Melanie. That wasn’t the ultimate horror, though.

  When I’d viewed the original painting, the woman was moments away from some hideous sexual rite. Her expression was one of utter terror.

  In the photograph, Melanie’s was not.

  It was ecstasy.

  SMALL VICTORIES

  by Dan Grace

  They said there were no nations in space. Well, that was bullshit.

  It did stuff to your head this place. It pushed you back down, made you turn in on yourself. It made you look for the familiar things around you. The little prejudices you could cling to.

  The Chinese stuck with the Chinese, the Indians with the Indians, the Brazilians with the Brazilians, and so on.

  I was the only English guy aboard this orbital.

  “We’re glad of the extra, you know that love.”

  “I know, I know. Just…”

  “We had meat for tea last night. Pork belly. It was lovely. Haven’t had meat like that for years love.”

  “Bit of pig, eh? You get that with the coupons?”

  “That’s right. Marched in there, right up to counter, slapped those coupons down. Right scene it was, I can tell you.”

  “Ah, don’t be rubbing people’s faces in it love. You don’t want to get any backs up.”

  “I’m proud I am Jord. Proud. And why shouldn’t I be?”

  I remember when I arrived up here. Atal took me around, introducing me to folk, doing his big friendly boss routine. Showed me where I would be bunking.

  “You’re sharing with one of the Brazilians, João. Nice guy, but he, er, he keeps a clean bunk if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  I had no idea what he meant. But he was right, the place was pretty clean. I set my stuff down and started to unpack. Pinned my picture of Sue and Jenny to the wall of my bunk. Then took off down to the mess to meet the other rocket men and women.

  “He’s gay.”

  “Who is love?”

  “João, the guy I’m bunking with. He’s a queer.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “What? Are you listening Sue? I said he’s a bender.”

  “Oh, Jord, get a grip. What does it matter?”

  “Well, you know, I feel a bit funny, sharing with him, you know, getting changed and all that. And all the others, they’re always commenting you know. ”

  “Jord. I love you, but you’re a bit of an ugly bugger. He’s not going to be interested, OK? And as for the others, what did we say when you took this? Keep your head down, do your six months and come home.”

  “Five months, fifteen days now.”

  “I know love, I know. So what’s he like? This João.”

  “Oh well, he’s nice enough, you know, keeps himself to himself mostly. Doesn’t seem to have many friends in the rest of the gang. They’re not so keen on him being a…you know…”

  “Do you mean gay love? They not so open minded as you?”

  “All right, all right. He’s a good enough worker, solid, gets it done, not flashy with the rockets like some of the others.”

  “That Atal?”

  “Yeah, that Atal.”

  The voices are always right in your ear. It distorts your sense of where you are, space between you and others, of how it all relates.

  So I hadn’t expected Atal to be floating right behind me, despite his voice being there on my shoulder.

  “Shit Atal.”

  I lost my grip on the ratchet and it spun away from me. Atal flicked out a gloved hand and caught it before it could wheel off into oblivion.

  “You want to be more careful bhai. Comes out of your pay you know.”

  “You made me jump. You shouldn’t sneak up on folk like that.”

  Atal grinned behind the faceplate, fired his rockets and executed a fancy little spin and twist.

  “Just checking your work English. I’m site boss, responsible for any fuck ups you make. Like losing your tools.”

  I gestured with my glove.

  “Well give me that ratchet back then Atal, so I can get these bolts done.”

  He tossed the tool back to me through the vacuum.

  “I’m watching you English. You and that boyfriend of yours.”

  “I’ll never forget his eyes. He looked terrified. Oh I’ve never seen anything like it Jord. Never.”

  “OK love, it’ll be OK.”

  “They surrounded him, pushed him about, worked themselves up. They were shouting at him, ‘give us our jobs back’, ‘chinkee’, ‘yellow bastard’. Shouting and pushing.”

  “Jesus…”

  “Then one of them worked up the courage to hit him. Knocked him down. And they all piled in love. All of them. I recognised some of them. People we know, people who say ‘good morning’ in the street and smile. People with blood on their boots and hands and shirts.”

  “Love, I…”

  “I tried to pull Jenny away, but she saw some of it love. She saw. I tried, but she saw. What are we going to do Jord? What are we going to do?”

  In theory the project is multinational, a rainbow of nations coming together to explore the unknown.

  When the contracts got tendered for companies to provide parts for the craft and build the thing up here, they all went to companies based in the big three, Brazil, China and India.

  There were a lot of folk unhappy about that. A lot of folk that reckon any right thinking Englishman shouldn’t have anything to do with this project.

  But I worked hard to get this job. These skills, they’re no use back down in the gravity well. Can’t be a rocket man on the ground. Not my fault if the only people who’ll employ me are foreign.

  “Hey João.”

  “Hey Jord.”

  He looked up at me from his reader.

  “What you reading?”

  “Ah. Nothing much, just a novel.”

  “Let’s have a look, I’m practically out of good stuff. Has it got fights in it?”

  He smiled at that. João was a bit of an intellectual type you know, and maybe I wasn’t as smart as him, so I’d play up to it a bit.

  “Yeah, there’s some fights in it irmão. Maybe I’ll lend it you when I’m done.”

  “Sounds good. Comin’ down to mess?”

  The smile faded from his face.

  “No thanks. Think I’ll read some more, get something later.”

  When it’s quiet he means, when all the others have done eating.

  “It sounds like extremist stuff to me love. You don’t want to get caught up with that type.”

  “I know love, I know. But it…well it does make a sort of sense. João says it was written couple of hundred years back, but it’s about folk, ordinary folk like us, and they…”

  “Listen Jord, you remember where this sort of thing got our William? You know where he is now?”

  “Well no, no-one knows where…”

  “Exactly. You start talking ‘bout this kind of stuff, even thinking these kind of things and before you know it, you’re vanished too. Be sensible.”

  “I am being sensible. I’m just reading it aren’t I?”

  “Well don’t. Give it back to this João and tell him ‘Thanks but no thanks’. I don’t want you going getting mixed up in politics. That’s the last thing we need.”

  “Alright love, alright. I’ll give it back. Now then, how’s J
enny?”

  It was João who noticed something was wrong. Harini was spinning, not correcting her course. She’d let out a sudden long burst and shot against the drive casing, ricochetting out away from the structure and coming to a halt against one of the manipulators.

  The comms in her vaccsuit had been bust for a while now. Atal had said there was no money to replace it, that she had to pay for it herself. The suit itself was old, nearly as old as Har herself and that’s saying something. It had given at one of the joints, de-pressurised a leg section. Thank god the safeties still worked, despite its poor state of repair.

  As I say João got to her first, towed her in. Saved her life some have said. Of course João won’t have any of that.

  It was quiet in the mess that night. The lads didn’t even bother with the usual crude jokes when João came and joined us.

  “But politics is everywhere irmão, you can’t exist separate from it.”

  I shifted on my bunk so as my back was to him. It wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation.

  “Course I can. Got by this long without that commie claptrap, get by just fine for another thirty years.”

  I heard him sigh.

  “Well maybe you shouldn’t think of it as politics. I mean it’s just common sense really. Here we are, working on one of the largest orbital platforms, we’re the best at what we do, and what do we get in return? Short contracts, cramped living quarters, fifteen hour shifts and, well, I know what you think about our boss. Why should we put up with it? Tell me that.”

  “I’m just keeping my head down. Goin’ to do my six months and then see what happens.”

  “But it doesn’t have to be that way Jord, don’t you see? If we all work together, forget these stupid walls we erect between one another, we could go to that prick Atal and tell him where to shove his fifteen hour shifts, those short-term contracts. Workers of the off-world unite!”

  He let out a shrill laugh and then a long tired sigh.

  I turned over so I could see him sat in his chair. He still had his vaccsuit on, the top half rolled down so it hung about his waist, his skinny wrists resting on the molded plastic arms of the one chair in our shared quarters. His thin black hair was spread about in disarray, like he’d just woken up. His eyes were shut.

  “I get it João, I do. But I just don’t see it working. I mean where do you even start?”

  His eyes flicked open.

  “I’ve got an idea.”

  “It was clever. Starting with the drive gang, after the accident with Har. They’re mostly Brazilians for a start, and those that aren’t have taken a shine to João after what happened. Turns out he’d already been chatting with a few of them about it. We’re right slap bang at the crucial phase now too. Testing is due to start in a week or two so it’s all hands to the pump. Atal knew he couldn’t ditch us all and get a new team on it, he’d delay the project by weeks and that wouldn’t look good to his boss…”

  “But that’s not what folk’re saying love. It’s been in the feeds and people round here have been paying attention.”

  “…what feeds? Who’s saying?”

  “Oh you know the usual people in the usual places. ‘Red Jord’ they’re calling you, saying you’re bringing disgrace on us. ‘Not very English’ is what I keep hearing.”

  “These’d be the same folk saying I shouldn’t even be involved in this project in the first place? What with it being given over to foreigners? Christ Sue, just ignore them, keep…”

  “There was a brick.”

  “What do you mean a brick?”

  “Through Jenny’s window. She wasn’t in there, it was while she was at school. Made a right mess it did.”

  “Oh Sue. I’m sorry. I didn’t know it’d…I mean I never thought it’d change things down there. It all seems so far away when you’re up here.”

  “Well it isn’t. I’m not saying what you’re doing isn’t right or important love, but, well I just think about what I saw in the street that time and I’m scared. I don’t know these people any more. They’re capable of anything love. I’m scared.”

  “It’s OK, it’s OK. I’ll talk with João, he’ll understand. We got what we wanted anyway so maybe things’ll quieten down a bit now. Don’t be scared love, it’ll be OK.”

  “We need to move fast, we’ve got management on the back foot. They’ve addressed our concerns over shift length, but health and safety is still a mess, and I think all of us would like a bit more space, right?”

  I watched the gathered rocket men and women nod their agreement. I hesitated only slightly before raising my voice.

  “Don’t you think we might be pushing it too far though João? I mean we got less hours, paid for out of company money. That’s a pretty big achievement. Maybe we need to ease back, play along with them for a while before we push any of this other stuff?”

  João looked surprised, although I could see my words had stuck home with a few of the others in the room.

  “But we’re in the final run to testing, we might never have a lever like this again. We get our demands in and push for all we’re worth.”

  “And then when our contract ends they bring in a new bunch because we pushed them too far.”

  Har leaned forward.

  “Listen bhai, they won’t find like-for-like with the skills we got in this room,” she shrugged. “Maybe they’ll settle for worse, but we’ll have set a precedent. Ain’t no one working up here that hasn’t heard about our little experiment. We’ll get more work, always have, always will.”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. All I could think of was Sue and Jenny and the mob at their door.

  “Things aren’t good back down there you know. My wife and kid aren’t having an easy time of it with all this. There’s been threats.”

  João slumped down into his chair and ran his skinny fingers through his lank black hair. Har raised her eyebrows and glanced at some of the others in the room.

  “Listen Jord, I know it’s tough, but what good is it to them if you die up here, in some accident that could have been prevented? Haven’t they got somewhere they could go? Someone to stay with? Lay low for a while until all this gets sorted?”

  João looked up at me.

  “I know somewhere they can go. I know some people who’ll look after them.”

  “They’re an alright bunch I ‘spose love. Bit serious if you know what I mean.”

  “I know what you mean love. You should meet João sometime. Think I’ve heard him laugh three times whole while I’ve been up here.

  “But the foods decent and they’re good with Jenny. One of them’s a teacher so she’s making sure she keeps up with her school work. And it’s just temporary isn’t it? So we’ll be back home before long.”

  “Just temporary love. I wanted to make sure you’d be safe and these are João’s friends. He trusts them and I trust him.”

  “Nice place they’ve got too, but I’m not ‘sposed to say much about that am I?”

  “Best not to love.”

  Most nights I dream about it. The sneaking about, the secret phone calls and the mass meetings in the mess.

  I dream the stars are within touching distance, that I can reach out and feel their warmth through the vaccsuit skin. They talk to me in so many languages, tell me a thousand different things.

  Secrets, truths, lies.

  They try to comfort me, to assure me it was all worth the trouble.

  It happened during the first test run. We were all outside in our new suits, paid for by the company of course, jostling to get a good view of our work in action.

  With no work to focus on there was a sense of unease. We weren’t needed any more. The earth spun below us, but we hung with our backs to it looking out past the ship we’d built to the deep space it was set to explore.

  It was the neck seal that went, so he didn’t stand a chance. Manufacturing error, astronomical odds against it happening. One minute I could hear João chattering on my sh
oulder the next he was gone.

  “That’s where your health and safety gets you,” was Atal’s remark.

  Har landed the first one on him. I hadn’t realised she could move so fast. We were dragged off by corporate security.

  There’s to be an inquiry, internal only of course. But we all know what happened. Those suits were parcelled out individually. What a fucking strange coincidence that only João’s malfunctioned.

  Har was right though, while most of us haven’t been taken back on here, we’ve found work elsewhere. I’m on one of the smaller orbitals working on a salvage and repair team. Even a few other English lads and lasses here with me.

  Sue and Jenny haven’t heard from João’s lot since they got home. I wonder if they’re OK.

  And it did set a precedent, especially following the publicity around João’s death. There’s a feeling of camaraderie between the rocket men and women that wasn’t there when I first came up. It’s like everybody’s taken a little look around and realised what the real problem is.

  As João often said to me:

  “Small victories, Jord, small victories.”

  SPELL CHECK

  by M.C. Tuggle

  When the clerestory windows in Jordan Connaway’s loft were tilted out to let the June heat escape, noises from the street as well as birds in the nearby oaks rebounded off the windows into the breakfast room below. Jordan was used to this, so she scarcely noticed the cartoonish cackling overhead as she finished her coffee. Minutes went by. The racket finally drilled through Jordan’s concentration. She folded the newspaper and glared up toward the loft.

  The noise stopped.

  Jordan pulled the paper open, but the moment she resumed reading, the cackling began again.

  After one more sip of coffee, Jordan got up and climbed the spiral staircase that led to her office, determined to find the source of the noise. She noticed something else, and grimaced. The higher she climbed, the stronger the smell of a wet dog. But that was impossible.

  When she reached the top of the stairs, the noise stopped. The wet dog smell was overwhelming. Jordan checked the open window. Nothing moved on the limbs of the oak tree outside. Taking another step closer, she looked up into the tree. Still nothing.