Human Fragments

By Gal Podjarny

What makes us human?

 

Is it the big things ... or the little things?

 

And how do we collect all these fragments - large and small - into ourselves?

In her first short stories collection, author and psychologist Gal Podjarny explores what makes up the self in Human Fragments:

• When Jade, a non-binary smartass, decides to try a new technology that can change their entire personality, they end up in a position they never could have imagined in Jaded.
• Josiah, The Banker of the title, arrives with good news: his clients have extra time banked, so they won't be dying today ... but what happens when one client doesn't want it? 
• In Say My Name, Michal returns home from a job interview and finds a doppelganger has taken her place. But which is the 'real' Michal ... is it her, or the doppelganger? How can anyone tell?

Stemming from years of studying psychology, Gal Podjarny questions what we take for granted: the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves.

 

PRAISE FOR GAL PODJARNY:

 

'Memorable and genre-busting, Podjarny's lyrical style reminds me of Ted Chiang's.' - Lizzie Fry, author of The Coven

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gal Podjarny
• Release date: Nov 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223122470

Book preview

Collected Fragments

By Gal Podjarny

To the humans trying to put together the fragments of their puzzle.

Jaded

Y ou have to try it. It’s like nothing you’ve ever done. Shireen was glowing with excitement.

You know I’m up for new experiences, but this sounds dangerous.

Green sunlight, filtered through the canopy, danced on her flowing, black hair. Her stalwart body had a calming effect on me. Perhaps that’s why the uncharacteristic energy caused disquiet.

Don’t be silly! she twinkled, They’ve got insurance and everything. Do you think they’d do it if it were dangerous?

Well… I found it difficult to argue with her logic, given how damn delicious her skin looked.

It’s perfectly safe. Look, Shireen twirled around, tantalising me with the circular movement of her hips, I did it, and I’m fine, she said.

Yes, yes you are, I said, scanning her from head to toe.

She smacked me on the arm, blushing. Listen, I’m serious. You know how you complain all the time about not being able to talk to anyone?

Except for you.

It’s important for me to note this exception. Shireen is the only person in the world who gets me. Our connection isn’t so much physical as it is intellectual (though my tingling private parts beg to differ). We are soul mates.

Yes, yes, except for me.

She dismisses me with an eye roll; I wish she wouldn’t. She has rather low self-esteem. I have been trying to impress on her how unique she is. Average people are, well, average. For someone with my level of intelligence, to connect to someone on an intellectual level means that someone - Shireen, in this case - must be above average.

Look, go to this. They’ll find you someone super-smart to talk to. Someone who would get you; someone on your level. Trust me, you won’t regret it.

Okay, I’ll go, I relented. It was unlike me to do something because of peer pressure. But this was shaping up to be an exceptional afternoon.

Call them then.

Fine. I’m calling.

She stared at me, gleeful, throughout the brief conversation.

Happy now? I said when I had booked the appointment.

Very, she said and came closer.

A few days later, I entered a spacious reception and approached the gleaming desk.

Good morning. How can we help you today?

The receptionist made my feeling that I walked into a Fortune-500 company’s office or a movie set even more intense. She had tidy hair, fashionable glasses, not too much makeup, and a smile that conveyed that she and this place were professional, helpful, courteous. The whole thing made me nauseous.

"Hi, I