Clarkesworld Magazine Issue 182

By Neil Clarke, Rebecca Campbell, Will McIntosh and 5 more

Clarkesworld is a Hugo and World Fantasy Award-winning science fiction and fantasy magazine. Each month we bring you a mix of fiction, articles, interviews and art. Our November 2021 issue (#182) contains:

• Original fiction by Will McIntosh ("Mom Heart"), Alice Towey ("Dark Waters Still Flow"), Anna Martino ("This Stitch, This Time"), Pan Haitian ("City of Eternity"), Rebecca Campbell ("The Language Birds Speak"), Shari Paul ("Between Zero and One There is Infinity"), and L Chan ("The Death Haiku Of The Azure Five").
• Non-fiction includes an article by Douglas F. Dluzen and interviews with Xueting Christine Ni and Charlie Jane Anders, and an editorial by Neil Clarke.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wyrm Publishing
• Release date: Nov 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781642361018

Neil Clarke

Neil Clarke (neil-clarke.com) is the multi-award-winning editor of Clarkesworld Magazine and over a dozen anthologies. A eleven-time finalist and the 2022/2023 winner of the Hugo Award for Best Editor Short Form, he is also the three-time winner of the Chesley Award for Best Art Director. In 2019, Clarke received the SFWA Kate Wilhelm Solstice Award for distinguished contributions to the science fiction and fantasy community. He currently lives in New Jersey with his wife and two sons

Book preview

Clarkesworld Magazine

Issue 182

Table of Contents

Mom Heart

by Will McIntosh

Dark Waters Still Flow

by Alice Towey

This Stitch, This Time

by Anna Martino

City of Eternity

by Pan Haitian

The Language Birds Speak

by Rebecca Campbell

Between Zero and One There is Infinity

by Shari Paul

The Death Haiku Of The Azure Five

by L Chan

Navigating the Storms of the Mind

by Douglas F. Dluzen

Celebrating the Diversity of Chinese Culture: A Conversation with Xueting Christine Ni

by Arley Sorg

Explicit Queerness: A Conversation with Charlie Jane Anders

by Arley Sorg

Editor's Desk: Changing the Conventional Wisdom

by Neil Clarke

Space Cadet

Art by Pascal Blanché

*

© Clarkesworld Magazine, 2021

www.clarkesworldmagazine.com

Mom Heart

Will McIntosh

The front door banged open.

Daddy! Dadd-deee! Bluet wailed.

I rushed to Bluet.

Bluet’s eyes were wet. Karina hung back, blank-eyed, as Bluet bolted forward.

"Regan called Mommy dead."

I wrapped Bluet in a hug. I’m sorry. My voice was muffled, my face pressed into Bluet’s hair. That was not a nice thing to say. Everything had to be a competition with Regan, and she always had to win. If she could win at Who Had the Most Mommies, she wanted to fucking play.

I held out one arm until Karina joined us reluctantly, then I squeezed them both, willing them to feel better, willing my strength to flow into them. Especially into Karina. Even from the back, I could feel Karina’s ribs.

As soon as I stopped squeezing, Karina slipped out of my arms and made a beeline for her room.

I’m going to put out a snack in a minute, I called to her.

Karina didn’t reply. I heard her door close.

She spent every possible moment in there, doing absolutely nothing as far as I could tell. All the progress she’d made, all the confidence, the social skills, the joy, had been wiped away in the course of one single, terrible, horrible day. It hurt to think of her in that room, sinking deeper into herself.

At this point, I didn’t know how much of it was her autism and how much depression.

I set out two chocolate éclairs, the most tempting, high-calorie snack I could think of. I’d given up caring whether the food was nutritious—I just wanted Karina to eat. And when you’d been given the semester off from teaching, you had all the time in the world to hunt down old-school bakeries.

Bluet, Karina? Snack time, I called.

Bluet appeared. No Karina.

I knocked on Karina’s door, then I opened it partway.

Karina was sitting on her bed rocking, staring down at her hands, her hair forming a hiding place for her face. Zelia had always tied Karina’s long, wild hair into a ponytail before school, but now Karina insisted on wearing it loose, so she could use it as a room to hide in.

Come and have a snack. Please?

Karina went on rocking. She had stopped doing that when she was four or five. Now it was starting up again.

Please, Karina. At least come sit at the table?

Nothing.

I went to Karina, and ever-so-gently lifted her face until she was looking at me. Come sit at the table.

Karina slid off the bed and slunk past me without a word. I followed her into the kitchen and pulled out her chair.

Karina stared down at the éclair.

I got them at a bakery. They’re really fresh.

Bluet swiped up a fingerful of whipped cream and held the finger out to Finster, who wagged his tail as he licked the whipped cream.

You were supposed to get a little better every day. Especially kids. Everyone said that. Don’t worry about the girls, kids are resilient. But if you already had a lot of challenges, losing your mother could be too much to snap back from.

Dr. Ferdinand said this was a critical period for Karina, that if she didn’t recover from Zelia’s loss now, it might change her trajectory right into adulthood. But every time I pictured my seven-year-old girl all alone at a psychiatric facility, it brought me to tears. Dr. Ferdinand didn’t know Karina the way I did. I felt this deep certainty that being alone in that hospital would just further traumatize her.

If she kept on this downward spiral, though, what other choice did I have?

I knew what Karina needed. She needed Zelia. Zelia had been the one who got Karina, who could connect with her. She was Karina’s bridge to the rest of the world.

The last thing Zelia had said to Karina was, I’ll be right back. I kept thinking that if she’d been able to say goodbye, Karina would have been able to get over losing her.

Bluet offered Finster a bigger piece of her éclair. Finster nibbled at it tentatively, knocking it out of Bluet’s hand and onto the floor before trotting away.

Our domestic bot, which had been scrubbing the linoleum floor, rose, its scrubbing brushes disappearing into its carbon fiber tube arms. It strode purposefully toward the glob of éclair on its wide, flat feet.

I smiled, remembering how Zelia had bristled that the bot had been given a vaguely feminine form by its manufacturer, and insisted on calling it Hank, which was, she said, the most masculine name in existence. The first time I referred to it as Larissa—the most feminine name in existence, according to me—Zelia had thrown back her head and laughed her husky laugh.

My phone rang—it was Zelia’s mom. I left the kids with their éclairs and went to my bedroom to answer it out of earshot.

Blessedly, she only wanted to check on their flight itinerary, and I was able to get off quickly, without the obligatory reminiscing. I was dreading Zelia’s parents week-long visit at the end of the month. Zelia’s mom insisted on talking about Zelia nonstop, telling anecdotes from her childhood that I knew were meant to be helpful, but only made things worse. Having my own parents around was more of a comfort, but they had their hands full dealing with Dad’s COPD.

I stepped into the hallway and almost collided with Hank/Larissa.

Pardon me, Benji. I didn’t see you there. Hank/Larissa passed with a stack of neatly folded, brightly colored girls’ clothes. I watched the bot pass. It was now a tiny balm that the domestic bot possessed those rounded contours that gave it a vaguely feminine appearance. It provided the slightest hint of a maternal presence, when that lack was like a black hole sucking all joy, all life from our family. Maybe I should ask Hank/Larissa to put on female clothes to play up that presence. We certainly had plenty of women’s clothes to spare. Karina refused to let me, or Hank/Larissa, get rid of anything of Zelia’s.

I let out an involuntary hack of gallows laughter as I imagined the bot going through Zelia’s closet, choosing something to wear. Sick thoughts.

I went to check on the girls, kicking Finster’s toy lamb out of my path. Finster wouldn’t play her lamb game with anyone but Zelia, so the lamb had become another memory that got booted from room to room.

Hank/Larissa appeared with the empty laundry basket, its blocky carbon-fiber face bland and vaguely cartoonish. Pardon me, Benji. I hope you’re having a good day.

I turned to watch the bot pivot on legs that were nothing but narrow pipes, its feet like flippers by contrast, but what my exhausted mind saw was Zelia, her knees turned slightly inward, her ponytail bobbing.

For an instant the vision was so clear I almost ran to her. Then Hank/Larissa was back, and I was left with a truly unhinged idea.

When I thought I had it right, I stepped back and raised the transmitter strapped to my wrist.

Testing.

The bot repeated what I’d said in Zelia’s lovely, scratchy alto. It took me a moment to collect myself, hearing her voice. It was as if she was suddenly in the bedroom with me, and all of this had been a long bad dream.

It might blow up in my face, but it also might make things better, and things needed to get better. They just had to.

What would Zelia think?

She’d approve. She’d be down with anything that could help Karina. And it was her sort of idea. Bold. Bizarre.

I lifted the microphone to my lips.

Hello, Duckies. The voice seared right through my heart. It would do the same to the girls.

That was the idea, though, wasn’t it? Convince them Zee was speaking to them for a few precious minutes. A few words from Zee would mean so much to Karina.

And really, how different was this from Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy? Parents created mythical benevolent figures all the time to provide comfort, to inject a little magic into the world. And when the kids were old enough to know they’d been punked, they were okay with it. How many kids wished they’d never believed in Santa Claus?

I tried the transmitter again. Hello, Sunshine. Zelia had called me Sunshine, insisting it wasn’t meant to be ironic, or at least not completely so.

I went to the bedroom and opened Zelia’s closet door. Before the accident I hadn’t realized Zelia had a scent all her own, now it wafted off everything she’d ever touched. It was lemon and puppy’s feet. A hint of brown sugar.

The phone rang: my friend Vincent, probably just checking on me. I sent the call to voicemail. Vince had really stuck by me through this, but I’d had so little time to devote to our friendship. I missed our trips to the movies, playing racquetball, gossiping about other faculty. There was just no time now.

Hands shaking, I sorted through Zelia’s clothes. What was her most iconic outfit, the one Karina and Bluet would most easily recognize? I rifled faster, wanting to finish. It hurt to see these shirts and dresses, each sparking half a dozen memories.

Sitting up against a wall in my closet, I guided the bot in a slow pan of the living room. Through the camera embedded behind the bots’ left eye, I saw Bluet watching cartoons, her face much too young for the dark sunken racoon-rings under her eyes. Karina was sitting at the kitchen table, head down, one leg swinging, doing nothing.

I felt excited, guilty, full of dread, hopeful, sad, uncertain. This was the last point where I could change my mind. I knew I wouldn’t. Crazy as this idea was, it felt right. I felt sure I could reach Karina this way.

Heart hammering, transmitting sensors strapped to my ankles, I jerked my legs straight out just as I’d practiced.

The bot’s feet flew out from under it. It clattered to the linoleum floor.

Startled, Bluet and Karina turned to watch the bot thrash on the floor like it was having a seizure.

Daaad? Bluet called. Something’s wrong with the cleaning thing. And why is it wearing clothes?

I didn’t answer—I had to stay out of sight and earshot for this to work. I stopped the bot’s thrashing and made it sit up slowly. It looked from Karina to Bluet.

I made it, I said into the wrist mic, my heart pounding so hard I was afraid I was going to fracture a rib. The bot repeated what I’d said in Zelia’s husky Brooklyn accent.

The girls froze.

Karina? Bluet? It’s me. I stood the bot up by drawing my knees up, placing my own feet flat on the closet floor, and tensing my quad muscles. I don’t have much time. Just a few minutes, and then I have to go back.

The girls gawked at the bot.

Why do you sound like my Mommy all of a sudden? Bluet asked.

The voice was right, but they weren’t buying it. The bot sounded like Mommy, but I wasn’t talking the way Zelia talked. It felt wrong to playact the part of my late wife to that extent, almost like I was mocking her. That’s what it was going to take, though.

I sat up straighter in the closet. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and pictured Zelia in the kitchen, leaned up against the counter drinking tea made from some obscure bitter root while simultaneously scarfing Oreos, her bare shoulders covered in freckles, her ponytail poking out the back of a Kansas City Royals cap, because she loved the Royals, even though she’d never been to Kansas City.

Let me get a look at my Duckies, see if your daddy’s been feeding you. I reached out the bot’s arm to brush Karina’s chin. You’re beautiful. Heavy duty cuties, both of you.

The girls went on gawking, as if the bot had blown a gasket.

Hey. I moved the bot over to the candy jars lining one counter of the kitchen. You want to binge on some sugar, dextrose, and red dye number five? The bot lifted the lid off the Sour Patch jar. I can’t partake, unfortunately, because I have no digestive system. But I can distribute. The bot set a handful of Sour Patch Kids in Bluet’s outstretched hand.

Karina was gazing up at the bot, her eyebrows raised. Mommy?

I knelt Zelia-bot down, reached out, and brushed the tip of Karina’s button nose. Bingo.

Karina launched herself into the bot’s outstretched arms. She turned to Bluet. "It’s Mommy! It’s Mommy!"

Bluet’s eyes went huge and round. Mommy? She joined Karina in the bot’s arms. "What are you doing in there? Come out."

Guilt flooded through me, blotting out every other emotion. Suddenly this felt like a terrible mistake, cruel and childish. But I couldn’t stop now. Not yet, anyway.

I can’t, Sweetie. The bot let me borrow her body for a little while. I have some things I want to tell you that I didn’t get to say before I left. And then I have to go back. What would Zelia want to say to them? I should have written some things down.

Don’t think. Just talk.

This sucks. So bad, I said as Zeliabot. "I hate being away from you guys. I miss you so much."

It was because of the accident, Bluet said. That’s why you went away.

It was. I never would have left you if I had any choice. But here’s the thing: I may not be here in my body, but I’m still all around you, all the time, wherever you go. The words poured out. They felt right, felt Zelia. Now, there’s something I need you to do for me.

What is it? Karina wasn’t even blinking, she was so mesmerized.

"Even though you miss me, I want you to be happy. Laugh. Play with your friends. Karina, I’ve watched you moping in your room, and I don’t like it at all. You hear me? No more moping. Ride bikes. Get in trouble at school. Jump in some lakes. Watch some TV, for God’s sake! Can you do that for me?"

Karina nodded. "Now that you’re back, I can. I missed you so much."

I missed you so much, too! Bluet piped in.

I miss you munchkins, too. But I can’t stay, I said. "As much as I hate the rules, they’re the rules. You have no idea how many strings I had to pull just to get a few minutes with you."

Tears trailed down Karina’s cheeks. She grasped the bot’s hand. "Please. Please. There’s so much I have to tell you." The expression on her face. The hope. The here-ness. When was the last time I’d seen such lucidity in those eyes?

I felt a plunging in my stomach. This was just going to reopen the wound, make it fresh and bloody all over again. It was going to tip Karina over the edge.

Karina clung to the bot, her face buried in Zelia’s sundress. Please, Mommy. Don’t go.

I’ll come back, I blurted.

"When?" Karina demanded through her tears.

Tomorrow, I promised. After school.

Karina’s face relaxed and flushed with color. We can play one of our games.

We can do whatever you want, I said. Right now, though, I have to say adios. Be good, Duckies.

We will, Karina said as Zeliabot went still.

I wasn’t sure whether to restore the bot’s autonomous settings and let it go back to doing chores, or to leave it deactivated. Maybe deactivated would be less confusing for the girls. I climbed to my feet and headed for the living room.

The girls surrounded me immediately.

"Daddy! Where were you? Mommy was here!" Bluet cried.

It’s true! Karina said. You won’t believe it, but it’s true.

I did my best to act awestruck and