Aurealis #166

By Stephen Higgins (Editor)

Each issue of Aurealis delivers quality writing and artwork. Aurealis is published 10 times a year. The magazine has published some of the world's best new and established authors and continues to discover new writers every month.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chimaera Publications
• Release date: Nov 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9781922471321

Book preview

AUREALIS #166

Edited by Stephen Higgins

Published by Chimaera Publications at Smashwords

Copyright of this compilation Chimaera Publications 2023

Copyright on each story remains with the contributor

EPUB version ISBN 978-1-922471-32-1

ISSN 2200-307X (electronic)

CHIMAERA PUBLICATIONS

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Hard copy back issues of Aurealis can be obtained from the Aurealis website: www.aurealis.com.au

Contents

From the Cloud—Stephen Higgins

Integrated Learning—C H Pearce

Cruel and Unusual—Scott Steensma

Reciprocity—Azure Arther

George Isaacs and The Burlesque of Frankenstein—Gillian Polack

Australia and Other New Frontiers for the Space Western—David F Ellrod Sr

Temporal Loops and Intergenerational Trauma in Russian Doll—Ani White

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Credits

From the Cloud

Stephen Higgins

As I am writing this editorial, we have had the news about the attacks in the Middle East. It is events like this that make you appreciate the ordinary day to day stuff that we deal with in our lives. I have always found a safe haven in books and reading, and I really appreciate the fact that I am able to lose myself in a world that someone else has created just for my benefit (ok not just mine) so I can be entertained, or enthralled or moved emotionally. And then I get to just exit that world and go back to mine. Of course, people involved in war and terror do not have that luxury. The world that has been created for them is not a good one. Yes it will move them emotionally but it will not entertain them. Hell, it might even kill them.

I am so thankful that my father taught me to read. I learned to read in school as well, but he got me started before I went to school. He used Treasure Island to teach me. I can still remember him going through the word ‘Treasure’ in order to show me how the letters and sounds went together. Then of course we moved on to ‘Island’. There you go. Two words and they gave me two lessons and hinted at a story all on their own. I am not sure what impact Treasure Island had on my reading tastes, but they must have kindled something in me that learnt to appreciate adventure in a story.

I can recall seeing books that one of my older brothers was reading at the time. I remember being drawn to the spaceships that adorned the cover of Brian Aldiss novels and I particularly remember the alien portrayed on an Aldiss collection of short stories called Space, Time and Nathaniel. I think most readers of Aurealis could easily pick my choices for cover art as they mostly have spaceships or are a bit ‘arty’. I mean, have a look at the three issues I had edited this year (#164, #165, #166). Spaceships and art. I was soon reading anything with an alien or a spaceship on the cover before I even knew I was reading within a genre. I thought they were just books like any other but with different settings.

I realised very early that there was much pleasure, as well as information to be gained by reading and I used to often get annoyed by the intrusion of the real world. But my world has not been violated by war. Imagine that dread entering your world.

I cannot imagine the horror, the sadness, the anger, the hopelessness, the heartache, the fear and the loss being felt by the peoples of world impacted by war and violence. I am unable to write a closing sentence.

All the best from the cloud!

Stephen Higgins

Editor: Stephen Higgins

Stephen has been interested in science fiction for ages and has written a few stories for Aurealis in the past. Lately he has been creating a lot of music. You can hear his music on Spotify, iTunes, Bandcamp and Soundcloud and all of the other usual places you get your music. You can find out more at https://stephenhiggins1.bandcamp.com.

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Associate Editor: Terry Wood

Terry Wood is a political consultant, writer and editor from Brisbane, and has been an Associate Editor and Non-fiction Coordinator for Aurealis since 2015. He has also been involved with Andromeda Spaceways Magazine.

Back to Contents

Back to Contents

Integrated Learning

C H Pearce

‘… group assignment…’

My head snaps up from the scratched desk I’m contemplating. My stomach drops like a stone. It’s not like me to get distracted at the final hurdle. I tune into Teacher’s drone.

Stonegate’s classrooms are dark and damp. We have yellow, buzzing overhead lights and, beyond the windows, the tiertop of Level Two is lit with more overhead lights set to day-brightness to replicate the sun we don’t get this far down the domed city. The classroom reeks of vinegar—evidence of a constant battle against mould. A small mushroom peeks out between the stone tiles by my black, buckled shoe. I resist the urge to prod it.

I despise group work. Everyone lets me down. The best I can hope for is a lazy parasite who will let me do all the work right and coast on my success. If they insist on interfering and dragging me down…

I need to ace this assignment. I’m on track to graduate with a perfect score and be initiated into the Select at the end of term. We’re all the right age—18—but of our class of 28, only Jas, Rena and I are still in the running.

No one will tell me exactly what happens when we graduate as Select, but the Select who come to speak at our school smile knowingly and tell me it is wonderful. Teacher isn’t Select—god no, no Select ends up teaching squirts like us on the level they grew up on—but I see how he envies them. That’s as compelling as imagining myself happy.

The Select go on to have exemplary careers on the upper levels—politicians, research scientists, medical specialists. Pull down the curtain, and I’m convinced the Select are nothing but a cohort of nepotists, perpetrating an illusion of specialness. Who cares? It’s a meritocracy of nepotists, and the criteria is academic perfection in school.

And little stick-up-the-arse, no-fun Gem from Level Two is going to be one of them. That’ll show everyone.

‘…Gem, you’ll be working with Max,’ says Teacher.

That’s worse than group work.

I stand and stare at Max in horror at her desk across the room. She waves lazily and flashes me a snaggle-toothed grin. Max’s eyes are heavy-lidded and she hasn’t brushed her floaty blonde hair. It’s matted at the back. Teacher says she’ll be expelled if she doesn’t clean up by tomorrow, but he’s said that before, so I think they’ll forcibly cut her hair like last time. She looks high. I wish she was, because she’d be more pliable. As it is, she’s both stupid and stubborn, and thinks I should ‘chill out’—the worst combination in a partner imaginable.

‘Sir.’ I raise my hand.

‘Sit down, Gem. Working effectively with another personality without requiring intervention from a higher authority is part of the assessed component of the test. You may come to me with issues—but be aware this will lose you points. If you call on me, you will not get a perfect score.’

I lower my hand. I sit.

I’m not a people person. That’s part of the test. They saved the hardest until last.

I’m going to have to manage the assignment, and Max.

I take a deep breath. I can do this.

Teacher gives the others their topics. He comes up to Max and I last, and whispers our topic in our ears, separately.

* * *

‘Integration of multiform hivemind organisms.’ I ambush Max at recess. ‘That’s our assigned topic. I’ve heard about the Many.’

Max sits on the low brick wall at the edge of the schoolyard, swinging her long legs. Black mould eats up one corner of the concrete.

There are new mushrooms sprouting in the cracks. It’s only been a day since we carefully extracted the old crop, with our gloves and masks on, then burnt them.

Max takes a huge bite out of an apple. I watch her sharp right canine pierce the flesh. Juice dribbles down her chin. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

‘Want some?’ she burbles with her mouth full, spraying me with flecks of apple.

I wrinkle my nose in disgust.

I do want a bite of her apple. And it might help to bond us if she feels she’s done me a favour. I take it in my hand. The flesh gives unexpectedly under my fingers—it must be old, on the verge of rot. I still want some.

‘Where did you get fresh fruit? No one sells it on Two.’ I take a bite.

It’s meaty, oily. It’s a Quickfat bar. The disconnect makes me gag.

‘Your face!’ Max giggles.

‘Why imitation…?’ I swallow, with difficulty. My eyes water.

‘Makes me look posh.’ Max grins. She has gristle stuck between her teeth. ‘They’re from the joke shop. Worth every