It’s been a long, busy year, and I’ve written a lot of short fiction and thought a lot about novels, but as is the way with publishing none of that is out yet. Instead I had three science fiction short stories come out, all written one or two years previously, all in great venues. I’m immensely proud of all three—though I think if I had to pick one “Any Percent” has my heart. If you participate in nominating for or voting in any of the SFF awards (the Hugos, Nebulas, Locus, etc.), I would be honored to have your support for my work.

“Any Percent” — Giganotosaurus. (Give it a like on the Nebula Reading List.)

A gritty cyberprole drama about speedrunning and solidarity in a video game where you can live any human life.

Mechanically, the way he did whenever he needed to escape the bleakness of IRL, Luckless daubed gel onto his temples, closed his eyes, and held START. When he opened them, her small, brown hands were stocking cans on grocery shelves. It was her birthday, of course, but she was mostly worried about when she’d find time to study for her GED, how late the buses were running after midnight, whether her mother had been sober enough to feed baby Diwa before bed. The algo in her earbuds beeped at her to pick up the pace.

Normally, Luckless would drop the can, shed the earbuds, steal a car, and head to the nearest skip he could remember. Tonight she was in Columbus, so Ohio Truck Skip wasn’t far. From there it would be routine to buy her way into the underworld, get a new identity that could make money moves, never have to do manual labor or think about where she came from ever again.

In her back, her feet, her arms, she felt that deep-bone tired. The same tired Luckless felt every day of that one, unskippable life.

She finished work and rode the bus home, nursed her baby, and slept. The next morning she got out early, went to the diner across from the grocery, where a few of her coworkers were gathering to talk about organizing a union.

“The Uncool Hunters” — Escape Pod podcast. (Nebula Reading List link.)

A fun, ‘high capitalist‘ comedy caper about two creative consultants duking it out in an Illinois Costco.

Before she settled down into publishing in Minneapolis, before she got taken for a ride by the Chicago AltNormLit scene, before she flared spectacularly out of Silicon Alley, and had her pilot shoot C&Ded by the City of Santa Barbara, and narrowly avoided cryptocollar prison in the floodzone formerly known as Tampa, Rocky Cornelius was a fucking uncool hunter.

“Family Business” (with Corey J. White) — Analog Magazine. (NRL)

A multigenerational dramedy set in the climate repair industry—featuring carbon offset scams, ancestor AIs, and striking dolphins.

“Why not send some drone submersibles down there to check the seals ourselves? The only reason we use dolphins is because Aunt Eudy was an absolute freak.”

“Well, zir, that is the other piece of bad news. Our subcontractors did send drones. But, you see zir, the dolphins destroyed the drones before they could reach the reservoir. I’ve seen the footage. They are…very violent.”

Rory got up and paced circles, their vat-leather Louis Vitton boat shoes squeaking on the polished wood.

“I’m not going to ask how,” they announced. “I really don’t want to know. What I do want to know is, where did they get these ideas? Who’s been salting these fishes?”

“Researchers, zir, working to advance interspecies cultural exchange. Apparently very few human concepts were of interest to the dolphins until the researchers tried explaining dialectical materialism.”

Thank you so much for your consideration!