Aurealis #170

By Michael Pryor (Editor)

Aurealis #170 is proud to present the compelling ‘Dog of War’ by Colin Clark, the cinematic ‘Lacebound’ by Eliza Baker and the punchy ‘Trashbot’ by Cameron Fischer. Our stunning illustrations for these stories come from Joel Bisaillon, Leah Clementson, and Simon Walpole. Our top non-fiction roll-out is: ‘The Dishonest Melodrama of All Of Us Strangers’ by Ani White, ‘What Makes a Good (Movie) Sequel?’ by Lachlan Walter and ‘Wolves on the Page: Hunting the Great Werewolf Novel’ by Emmet O’Cuana. And, of course, we have our absorbing Reviews section, worth the price of admittance on its own. Aurealis, the future is ahead.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chimaera Publications
• Release date: May 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9781922471383

Book preview

AUREALIS #170

Edited by Michael Pryor

Published by Chimaera Publications at Smashwords

Copyright of this compilation Chimaera Publications 2024

Copyright on each story remains with the contributor

EPUB version ISBN 978-1-922471-38-3

ISSN 2200-307X (electronic)

CHIMAERA PUBLICATIONS

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the authors, editors and artists.

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

Contents

From the Cloud—Michael Pryor

Dog of War—Colin Clark

Lacebound—Eliza Baker

Trashbot—Cameron Fischer

The Dishonest Melodrama of All of Us Strangers—Ani White

What Makes a Good Movie Sequel?—Lachlan Walter

Wolves on the Page: Hunting the Great Werewolf Novel—Emmet O’Cuana

Reviews

Next Issue

Submissions to Aurealis

Credits

From the Cloud

Michael Pryor

In a recent blog post, the National Library of Australia (NLA) points out that its Legal Deposit scheme would, essentially, help preserve civilisation when we collapse into dystopia.

Legal deposit has been a law in Australia for over 100 years. It ensures that the nation’s published heritage is collected and preserved for future generations.

The Legal Deposit scheme is a law that says: ‘One copy of everything that is published in Australia is to be given to the National Library under the legal deposit provisions of the Copyright Act (1968).’ As a result, the NLA has lots and lots of material. Enough to keep the lights burning if the world descends into barbarism? Let’s hope we don’t ever need to find out.

Regardless, the blog post is a fascinating look at how Australian authors deal with dystopias from M. Barnard Eldershaw’s 1947 Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow to the present day. The absorbing and worthwhile article concludes with: ‘The sense of looming destruction which haunts apocalyptic narratives arises from the fears of society in the period that they were written. Explored alongside non-fiction works and other primary sources these novels help inform us about lived experience in history, examining political and social dynamics to offer us an alternative way to understand the world we are living in.’

And thus with Aurealis’s stories. We have featured many dystopic stories in the past and will continue to do so, as this theme is an integral part of science fiction and is likely to be so as long as we can contemplate the future. Good examples are Amy Dawn Buchan’s ‘A Dead World Wakens’ (Aurealis #159), Leon D Furze’s ‘Mirrorsong’ (Aurealis #148), Tom Walters’ ‘Advena’ (Aurealis #149), and we mustn’t forget non-fiction articles such as Kris Ashton’s ‘Individualism in 20th Century Dystopian Fiction’ (Aurealis #153).

The best way to prepare for the future is to imagine it. Here at Aurealis, we’re helping you do just that.

Editor: Michael Pryor

Master storyteller Michael Pryor is one of Australia’s most popular and acclaimed authors of Fantasy and Science Fiction. He has published more than thirty-five novels, more than sixty short stories, and has over one million words in print. He is one of the co-publishers of Aurealis, Australia’s longest running Fantasy and SF magazine. He has been shortlisted for the Aurealis Award eleven times, and nine of his books have been CBCA Notable books. His latest book is Graveyard Shift in Ghost Town. His website is www.michaelpryor.com.au.

Associate Editor: Scott Vandervalk

Scott Vandervalk has been a freelance editor for over 10 years, with projects ranging across the globe, from educational textbooks to novels, short stories, roleplaying games and boardgames, amongst other types of text. Scott has previously worked in science and education support, both of which have led to editing projects related to those fields. When not editing, Scott can also be found dabbling in gardening, cooking, writing or designing and playing games. Scott currently serves on the committee of the Bendigo Writers’ Council. Website: scottvandervalk.com.

Back to Contents

Dog of War

Colin Clark

Commander Olsen dished it up straight: shoot the children first. The little bastards were agile, fleet-footed and mercury-quick through the debris. And, more-often-than-not, wired with explosives. One recently took out a whole truck of soldiers when pretending to beg for food. I’d been extra-diligent about my duties since that particular clusterfuck.

So the question could be asked, why didn’t I just squeeze the trigger? I had the luminous red dot fixed right on the back of this particular kid’s head, but I opted to lower my rifle. Who the hell knows why? Maybe it was the concussion of the IED that had gone off nearby that morning. The blast had knocked me on my arse, blurring my vision and setting my head ringing. But maybe it was something else. I’d been on this tour for over ten months now; maybe it was all just catching up on me.

All I was certain of was the fact that the kid was off. He zipped away, racing through a maze of blasted, pock-marked concrete, fast as a rat through the smouldering debris. I shouldered my rifle and ran after him as best I could with my bad knee, aching head and thick layers of armour.

I slipped through the same gap in the wire mesh he’d effortlessly cleared. The loose metal barbs raked at the sash of my rifle: I swiftly unhooked it and rolled to my feet on the other side. Interconnecting pathways presented themselves to view. I nearly lost him there, but the motion sensor in my visor detected movement up ahead to the right. The kid was still on the go; he’d just now paused to see if I was still following. As soon as he was sure he’d been seen he took off again. His shoeless feet scrabbled in the dust, kicking up tiny plumes as he departed. I continued after him.

The bombing campaign had reduced the streets to a labyrinth of fallen walls and monolithic piles of rubble. It would have ordinarily been a nightmare of potential booby traps or waiting militia—but I had the kid to lead my way safely through. He found the terrain effortless. He boasted the athleticism of an Olympic hurdler as he raced through each foxhole, scaled each heap of rubble, ducked his way past countless obstacles and generally left me feeling like a clumsy, battle-worn tank in pursuit. But I went on nonetheless. On some primal level I sensed the kid was headed towards something important.

He tried to lead me down blind alleys, or get me tangled in coils of barbed wire. But I maintained a dogmatic path right behind him. ‘Wait!’ I yelled, trying to get him to slow or stop. But having seen what our forces were capable of, I figured he wasn’t about to lend a particularly receptive ear.

And at last he came to his apparent destination. It was a junction where a stormwater grate had been blasted out of place. He slid down through the gap, disappeared into the darkness below street level. No, I thought, you’re not getting away now.

I was a little too bulky to follow through the exposed hole, but a heave on the storm grate managed to wrench it free. Still unsure what I was getting into, I ducked down into the shadows beneath the road.

It took a moment for my visor to go infrared in the darkness. When it did I was astonished by what I saw.

The kid had run to the side of a woman. She clutched a mewling baby. They had an