Theory Train Issue One

By Theory Train Magazine

Theory Train is an exciting new anthology of speculative fiction and poetry! Read inside zombies, clockwork cats, and theories of the universe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Theory Train Magazine
• Release date: Dec 14, 2010

Theory Train Magazine

Theory Train is an online literary magazine specializing in speculative fiction.

Book preview

Welcome to Theory Train Magazine.

We are pleased to present to you a collection of speculative fiction poetry and fiction. Visit us at theorytrain.com or email us at [e-mail].

Editor in Chief Luis Galvan

Managing Editor Eileen Young

Selection Board Adam Schreckenberger and Michelle Ristuccia

Cover by Tristan Tinder

http://eiti-nyeh.deviantart.com/

ISSN 1925-2439

All contributions are copyright © 2010 by the individual contributors.

Contents

Jack Ritter Theory Ball

N.P. Miller The Clockwork Feline

Michael Cnudde Chasing Fate

Valentina Cano Holy Birth

Korliss Sewer (Elena)

Colin James Lap Dogs of the Inferno

Mason Kochanski Aequorial Apperception

Laura Bradford Waitress in Training

David Pointer Steamville Photoplay Fest

Joe Jablonski Scorched Earth

David McLean The Skinny Zombies

Theory Ball

By Jack Ritter

Jack writes poetry, flash fiction, and comedy. His writing has appeared in Austin International Poetry Festival's 2008 anthology, Red River Review- Aug 2010, and 2010-2 Illya’s Honey. By trade, he’s a video game programmer. He’s published original algorithms in 3D graphics. He also creates large format ink-jet art prints.

Theory Ball can also be found on the Featured Prose section of TheoryTrain.com.

I have a pet theory. It states that the universe exists ultimately in the form of a bicycle. This hypothesis is no laughing matter. I keep my pet theory in my left front pocket.

There are those who would seek to kill it by disproving it. They are competent physicists, mind you. But they would hold my bicycle theory up to the light, and puncture it with sharp logic. They would be successful, for my theory is not yet fact, because it's so new. That's why it must stay in my front pocket to incubate, except for at night, when I take it out and fondle it.

Night is a good time to work on it. I roll it around in my hands, concentrating on the universe as I do so. It feels like a warm egg, but it's more like an ornate Christmas tree bulb, with little peep holes. Technically, it's called "an infinitely thin, super massive Yule ovoid with portals." If you look through them you can see its physical nature: lots of little crispy copper bugs spinning on their backs, with their spastic legs reaching up, then passing through exquisitely jeweled micro worm-holes, and back down again toward themselves, so they can manufacture themselves by manipulating the symbols on their backs which represent what they are. Such is the look of a young theory, not to be confused with its content. On the backs of those bugs is the stuff of bicycles.

Typically, I theorize merrily into the night. I run my theory ball back and fourth through my mind, combing it for new thoughts. Or maybe it combs me. Sometimes they're the same thing, and that feels mighty fine.

Recently, it's been changing. It's a rolling down-hill idea. Each night it becomes more willful: less and less like a mere representation of the universe, and more and more like