They come after dark.
Only when my waking eyes flicker shut do they open theirs — smiles stretching their lips taut as their limbs elongate and their forms bubble up to size.
Only then do they gaze down at my sleeping form, wonderment blossoming on their faces. They are the good ones; wispy white forms that hang onto the edge of my dreamstate vision. They dance around the room, handling objects with grace — making them float and fly through the air.
Canberra
Australia
2075
The first inkling was an announcement on the Citizen Communication channel — the only free-to-air channel left for people like me: the government urging us to check bank account balances. I guessed it was yet another Russo-Chinese mass scam, maybe infiltrating the Citizen Channel as they had infiltrated everything else. Still I checked it out.
Suzi loved working at the isolation laboratories at Davenport on the south coast of Yorke Peninsula. It was a designated location for one of Australia’s intended nuclear-fusion power plants, but to date was simply a series of laboratories and housing for research scientists. Currently power was provided by a solar farm and batteries — and water came from a local desal station.
Suzi worked as a geochemist, studying the biodegradation of oils in situ.
‘Joe, have you brought your crystal?’ she asked.
‘Uh, no, I didn’t know we had to. I signed up late,’ he replied.
‘Perfectly acceptable. We’ll just have you re-enter the forest. You can select one from the provider there.’
‘Will I have to pay anything because I already —’
Depot
I wrap the cold toast in a piece of fresh paper. They can do a drawing on the packaging after they’ve eaten. Sometimes I dream of getting a card in the mail. A home-made job with a scratchy zebra drawn in charcoal on the front. I don’t know how much Australian they’ve got, but a thank you inside couldn’t be too hard to muster.
— Truck’s in Dave, says the intercom.
She walked in the shop in a polka dot dress,
And a hat made of twenty house bricks;
She ordered a coffee, with sugar, I said?
And she stunned me with several kicks —
My dream girl.
The beginning of this tragedy is simple. About ten years ago my husband Rodrigo was killed while repairing some elements of the forward shield array. His body was never recovered. My friend Louise's husband Sam was also killed a few days later in the tokamak shielding refractor when the magnetic shielding bent for a few seconds. He was vaporised.
So Louise was widowed with a young son, Kenneth, and I was left widowed with a young daughter, Cher.
Read more: Statement to the Generation Ship Walkabout's Coroner Court
Mum makes me promise to never go to Dad’s during the week. “He’s a busy man,” she says.
Him? Yeah right. He can never tell me what he’s been up to when I ask. We see him every second Friday.
“You know the drill,” Mum always says. “You and your brother get home from school, take the bags I pack for you — nothing else — and get on the bus that I tell you to.
Four droplets glided into The Alien Nutcracker. Proprietor Navi bowed low.
They quivered. “Sir, we seek your help. We’re battling a lifelong instability.”
Navi sighed. He always got the weird ones. “Guys, I import exotic nuts.”
“Of course. Our problem is exotic, even existential.”
In a far distant galaxy on the colony of New Australia, a scientific research project that took years to complete finally matures, thanks to the concerted efforts of its eminent scientists. On Sydnember the fifty-first, capsules of black, dark, bright and funky humour are transported to secret warehouses in large, sealed containers. Such is the degree of government secrecy that heavy loads of refined humour are despatched under the cover of darkness. The drivers are sworn to secrecy on pains of harsh punishment should they tell anyone, particularly the media, about their deliveries. The threat proves unnecessary as the drivers do not know what they are carrying.
AntipodeanSF supports the ASFF

Please visit the ASFF website and consider joining for up-to-date info about Australian SF cons, awards, competitions, and to receive the Foundation's newsletter, Instrumentality, and more.
Coming In Issue 248
A Taste For Salt
by Noel Osualdini
Better Ballers
by Salvatore Difalco
First Choice
by Vanessa Kittle
Forever In Time
by Shane O'Halloran
Frozen Moments, Stolen Out Of Time
by George Nikolopoulos
That Monster Show
by Bart Meehan
The Last Word
by Roger Ley
The Tower
by Mathew Nelson
Vocation
by Ishmael A Soledad
Wet Paint
by Simon R. Gardner

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"White Fire" by Laurie Bell Published
That's right, AntiSF author and narrator, Laurie Bell, is the author of "White Fire" available for your reading pleasure now at booksellers online in paperback and ebook. <Booktopia> or <Amazon>.
Nullus Anxietas VII: The Australian Discworld Convention — will be held in Melbourne on April 12-14, 2019, and is themed on Going Postal. More information: <https://ausdwcon.org/>.
Swancon 2019 — 18/04/2019 - 22/04/2019, Esplanade Hotel Fremantle by Rydges 46-54 Marine Terrace, Fremantle WA 6160. Swancon is Australia's longest-running science-fiction, fantasy, and speculative fiction convention, and is the premiere event in Perth for fans of all forms of speculative media. More information: <https://swancon.com.au>.
Continuum 15 Other Worlds (Natcon 58): Continuum 15 is the Australian National SF Convention, to be held in Melbourne on June 7–10. More information and memberships <https://continuum.org.au>. AntipodeanSF will be at Continuum 15 and celebrating Issue 250 of AntiSF!
Worldcon Dublin 2019 — An Irish Worldcon 15/08/2019 till 19/08/2019, The Convention Centre Dublin (CCD). <More info here>
For more up-to-date Aussie SF info join the ASFF: <asff.org.au>.
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When I die I’m going to leave my body to science fiction.