Black Hole Down

By Dr. Rubino del Sur

sfgenreI was the sample and the sampler of my own insupportable acts. But there it stands naked, like a dozen or more events to which a child is exposed, unthinkable, a sample, standing at midnight with forged papers, ordered to walk the bridge, and only by that singular grace that always accompanied these travesties, rescued at the last second. We want to know what the symbolic acts mean because they are fiction-real and swim in consciousness during day then dive back down again, the bridge, the bench in the Panama City airport…until one day they all stop and new ones contend.

I was traveling the McMurdo Turnpike in the Transantarctic Mountains when the black hole trains first pulled up.

First Montauk, then the Montana outback, then the side yards of Idaho and south to the Marfa flats they jumped the track. One abandoned after it had wrecked was a great beast of a black hole brought down from the sky. It could no longer fly and I cannot resist turning the thing upside down.  People get a glimpse, but the translation and the fact need translation. This has to be kept secret.

A black hole is like a chain of boxcars. All the furniture is in the center of the car which leaves the walls for murals describing their star heads and folded down tentacles, as if they were looking in their pockets for the correct time. Or maybe they see through the windows in their bosom. The floors are paved with translucent tiles and the walls are covered with murals and maps, but there is a sense of decapitation as if the heads were preserved under the ice in several poses, one dancing with a foot raised or another leaning upon its mattress, missing the skull. Lists of impossible and implausible lore, its fiction endless from a dozen generations that painted the walls and no one wiser. How do you know the great extremes fastened together with each axiom? Give it time and believe. Border consciousness is a huge atmosphere, a magnetosphere a thousand feet above and below continents, plates and lava where the balloons, the vacant minds are tethered.  I later learned that music was conducted in the cars played on derelict pianos we found there. Songs like Radio Barcelona used to broadcast of the Sackcutters, the Cotton Pickers and the Coal Miners, der Kaffesäckeschmeißer, der Baumwollpflücker and the Grande Bergarbeiter. At least that’s what Hal Croves the director said when he rode the shark of Rio. 

As far as the black hole went the back had fallen so far in it had to be propped up and repaired. There were sliding doors on the sides and marks where sliding doors and windows used to be. Everybody knows the cars were originally hermetically sealed, but the day our team began to reassemble the piano, with clamps and gorilla glue, as if we could put Humpty Dumpty back on top, it bothered me immensely until one night I realised it was after all just a wreck with a broken back, a Le Corbusier where we could see the beams.  Reconstitute, that's the word straight up, reconstitute. In these close and personal sightings I saw a rhinoceros run across the keyboard of that piano, which led to whole different conclusions as follow, as much about politics as about art.


It may have been what I was drinking. Fables at other sites attract demythologists like moths. Rocketing down the tracks by night, the prisoners manacled in high ceiling rows, hermetically sealed, no cracks in the floor could allow some Weissmandel, rabbi of Slovakia, to cut a hole in the bottom of the black hole and escape. He had married the daughter of his master but lost all to the blade. We'd rather not believe they were to deliver his infant son to him through the hole but reneged. The baby hostage went with the rest. After he remarried in Mount Cisco NY, and had roughly the same aged children as he had before, he invented the Torah Holes. The guillotine seems to have been added after that.

Such sites exude philosophy.  If we speak of pre-terrestrial life these shoggoths must be their poets, and if terrestrial and cosmic, then pre-cosmic, and if you can get your hat on pre-terrestrial star-headed beings, these sub races had the ability to mask their true appearance by altering their magnetic structure so the surface peoples could not see them. From this came the myths of fish scaled with gold. But the greatest of this in history, if history is imagined as dust worlds, the chief cone head of this seed, was one Yeggy, an echo, for flesh is not prison to its body. What choice had liberty then but to come up from the sea? Escape? Before dissimulation the classic carapace had a dull sheen like ants. Grasshoppers scryed remotely that these were the chrysalis reports of DMT insect adepts.

I can't wait to share more of the architecture, but those millennial fossils dwelling in the masonry of a black hole were like a car with a hundred cylinders in a Henry Ford cosmic sky.  Who would not weep for the arabesque of that math?  I don't know if you like saguaros, but something like. "Hold your breath" will be the evening news when Arthur Clarke comes out of one of these black holes in fifty years with a model of the Reichstag hanging under his arm.


But as to the inhabitants of these black holes geography must be content with photographs from space, for down close to hand they are more glimpses of a fictional ground. Please read with cognisance the metaphor, if you are native to one, that cretaceous cycads and angiosperm sculptures, not tetrahedral but pentagonal, expose the archways ten and more feet high of the upper storeys of a black hole. Built as if to precog some undiscovered distance, when disclosed there seem to be the disturbed matings of leviathan and behemoth.

Fumaroles chuck their finches on that magic swing. Sure lots of people think they’ve seen one lurking at a corner, sleeping by the canal, backpacking in the preserves. But these are no more reliable than the cross hatchings of shadow that Aristotle saw on the curtains. Ancient Hebrew has two words, tan, translated “jackal,” and tanin, translated “sea monster” in English but drakon in Greek. Time going forward from the present now receives the future as malleable, a fluid like the present. Taken from any present time accuracy may change from another present time with events that happened since the first reading. A collapse of probability into reality rules out the other versions that made the subject believe they had come to pass. Observer created reality creates and observes itself,  picks out of the experimenter’s brain the thoughts that were there. 

On land the amphibians ran from Dilmun, Bahrain, Kuwait to Qatar where Hillary and Barak had homes. Obama, Clapper and Kerry fleeing the Russian hack had all come to these labs in 2016 to confirm every genetic mutation under the ice. Flood-reduced Puradu from the eminent sources at Qumran gave the same mutation. Authority Cayce said it was Atlantis. Graham Hancock gave the date as 9,600 B.C.  Enoch said, "they sinned against birds, and beasts, and reptiles, and fish" (Enoch 6-7), "corrupted alike men and cattle and beasts and birds and everything that walked the earth" (Jub. 5.1-2). Not just physics and astronomy but anthropology, pyramids, shelf-splits, underground lakes, earth changes, ice melts, cracks and glaciers broke off.  DARPA's underground Neuschwabenland (c. 1938) and Admiral Byrd's disastrous High Jump (1947), 19th century hollow earth paradigms turned to solid earth, post 1947. America of course is just a way of saying Europe, and if Europe, Rome, where elites who manage the whole world state Dogon Nommos, Curtius and Auerbach are all from Sirius A and B and succumb to its control.

These fantasies are shared by them all. You get the point. A little like the Mafia, these made men of the third strand implant public cone. When spirits come through from that other side to possess new flesh, or silicone, they expect to live forever, which expectations however were to fail. History slithered from the black hole, the wanton. Dr. Padalka said they crept across the ice bank even hours after a tentacle was sliced off. Even after they were airlifted to the Beltway and mutated with Grobeaks and then returned, scientists on the Second Noah research vessel found them in the waves of Lake Vostok. Little squid fish hats made the mutating grosbeaks of the Beltway tame, but to build the tale, after the American underground protocols of super computers coded the events, run by the great critic John Podesta in a backwash of time, all kinds of bodies washed up.  

The flanks of Mount Erebus continually reveal such debris. Satellite pictures show schists of black cubes of megalopoli glowing in a lava lake. Scallops, beetling slabs and composite cones forge the five-lobed brain. Who is not endeared by the lateral crinoid arms wriggling over the ice with their tentacles and ganglial centers? Looking beneath the ice, if time could be changed, and both eyes were open to view a Black Hole, its numbered factus and state of affairs (Sachverhalt) in the Hole and outside the Hole are situation and fact justified to the camera. That is to say there has to be point of view to believe it’s not staged. Why is that Inuit being filmed rescuing a polar bear? Why are images of discs, the moon, presented on film? What’s the point? Are they really there?


a) But what the shoggoths are doing is more to the point, since they were hybridising hybrids of themselves, sprouting angry centaurs out into space. The beginning of this was their Bird origin, ostrich or egret, articulating from the epiglottis to the beak and spinal adjustments of those remedial wing sockets. The bestial significance to old myths of half men half beasts common to anthropoids was only secondarily like the giants, who also took evolutionary reptilian likeness. The monstrous plumbs a deeper cavity than thought of this hyperspace marooned arthropod degraded from citizenship, not to denigrate, but a debased angel coming out a bug. Paranoia differs in its ability to solve epistemological questions. Inner dislocation and personality dissolution fused those separate realities with the monstrous. The tail in the find likely belonged to a small “juvenile” dinosaur, probably no larger than a sparrow. It would be classified under the group of dinosaurs called Coelurosauria, a rather large group that fits animals from Tyrannosauruses to modern birds. The feathered tail supported the theory that giant beasts once ruled the Earth as reptiles that looked like birds.

b) Their purpose was at best nefarious, resulting in THE BIRTH OF THE CENTAUR RACE. These deformed children of Ixion and Hera's CLOUD, hunched over other humans, biting. The followers of Antifa-Ixion, the first  KIN-SLAYer had a narrow range of acceptance. They rode around the city looking for space. The one we found took a wrong turn and went offline at DeBisque. Two blocks, four blocks, six blocks of squalor. It adds to the effect that after firing one side of the arm and a leg detached. Whoever was on hand could still see traces of the legs. Parts were waxed and shaved. First off, Artificial Intelligence is that Cloud figure that turns into a centaur right in front of your eyes. When LEGS AND HOOVES SPROUT OUT OF the SHOULDERS.

We have to resort to pictures to get this across. None of the facts are real, or some are, or many are, but it doesn’t matter since the Centaur-Kin Slayer invented ROBOT SEX. Especially for scientists.

Since the centaur is a product of Ixion’s intercourse with the cloud, this CLOUD APPARITION OF THE FEMININE absolutely touches the highest human illusion, first AI as a product of the Cloud, being the kin slayer, and then devolving to part animal, part train, part derelict, part black hole wreck. I can tell you that the thing looked grumpy, laying on its side, rubbed end to end with iron oxides as befits.

In that day we were only to imagine the deceased Holes in five pointed mounds, heads buried standing up. The pseudo neck and probable mouth suggested the absorbing of inorganic vegetable life along with sushi marine. When that fish actually came and found its legs, we would charcoal grill the same.  Even if they multiply by means of spores Cyclopean literature is filled with such examples of gill-like suggestions at the ends of tentacles to be dissected. The pseudo foot and hand that led to the pseudo head and folded wings made one want to cry more bat than fish. Were we able to fly out like endless rain across the universe we might find all sorts of this influence. 

Beside this, all acts in the spiritual are real in the physical! So when from the fake feminine comes a false cloud the centaur which should never have existed engendered a hybrid race of monsters of the gods like the giants, who made Saturn a theology again, called gold by the unveiled mighty men of renown, geoengineered in the hyper dimensions.

It doesn’t help that each act is a symbol and a particle of some greater whole. It doesn’t help that the centaur tweeted a picture of President Obama bending to sight a putt with a link to the Podesta parties and a bandaid on his middle finger. This just appeared as I looked for a pic to go with the words that said, first I saw a shoulder and what looked like an arm. Then a leg grew out of the arm all the way down to the hand, which turned into a hoof. So there was this shoulder, arm, leg and hoof when I realised what I was seeing, and remembering centaurs are angry, woke up.


To sum up, their living quarters glory the analyst. the centaur one about politics, the bird about art. Such mysteries occur all the Ten Bases in the Sectors that house the Underground sites, like Greenbrier that the muse must not name, which caveat raises its middle finger however to the wall where this train is not a rocket, but a tram. 

Every source conditioned by the truth requires you believe nothing and everything, for there are undergrounds beneath. From these effects we reason it good that we are not cast into this world without relief from the direct subversion of the Mesopotamian ethos, which extends to Antarctic, Lunar Operations Command, Solar Wardens and all Dark Fleet and Interplanetary Corporate Gloms and the SSP, Secret Space Program. Among intellectuals intent on reversing the effects of the imprisoned angels running this show, Jude, I Peter and the Councils of Heaven of Psalm 82 declare Messiah will close them down. Pre-Adamites and their offspring really are the result of the Apkallu sages before the flood, long skull outcasts whose administrator children were mostly killed.

At work in the heat of compulsion and creation the author does not know the relevance of this work, is not conscious of anything beyond simply the composition itself. He may later come to discover some relevance, but when the vision occurs it is complete even if the parts that are captured are incomplete. Each one viewed from here and from there, huge and unimagined, renders to the best sense guided in these translations, that a foreleg of a horse that came from a man’s shoulder was later identified as a centaur.


Mount Erebus is the second highest volcano in Antarctica and the southernmost active volcano on earth. It is the sixth highest ultra mountain on an island. It is located on Ross Island with a summit elevation of 3,794 meters (12,448 ft), which is also home to three inactive volcanoes, Mount Terror, Mount Bird, and Mount Terra Nova.  The volcano has been active these 1.3 million years and is the site of the Mount Erebus Volcano Observatory.

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About the Author

Dr. Rubino del Sur

rubino del sur 200Dr. del Sur left his practice in the Barrow straits of Alaska after taking a sabbatical in Jerusalem to explore the chattels of binding, a branch of experimental dentistry that references the Maquilas teeth worn round necks in invisible servitude.

In his increasing role as an international troubleshooter he was involved thereafter with various dentitions of radioactive speech, but has not left dentistry behind, even if his present post in Antarctica is in a location undisclosed, near the trans Antarctic mountains that divide east and west, the vicinity of the Leveett Glacier of the Queen Mauds planned route for overland supply joining McMurdo and Amundsen-Scott Stations.

Such research is conducted far from observed eye where removals in the dental cosmos of the invisible chattels of liberation are well represented in the innocent teeth-mountains, although certain culpable agencies are not to be named.


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The AntipodeanSF Radio Show

AntiSF's Production Crew

nuke conflux 2017 200Ion Newcombe is the editor and publisher of AntipodeanSF, Australia’s longest running online speculative fiction magazine, regularly issued since January 1998, and conceived back around November 2007. He has been a zealous reader and occasional writer of SF since his childhood in the 1960s, and even sold a few stories here and there back in the '90s.

“Nuke”, who it turns out loves editing more than writing, lives in the New South Wales North Coast holiday destination of Nambucca Heads, where he is self-employed in IT training, computer support, desktop publishing, editing, writing, and website implementation. He is also the resident tech-head, skeptic, and board member of community radio station 2NVR, where he produces a number of shows including The AntipodeanSF Radio Show.


mark web 200Mark Webb's midlife crisis came in the form of attempting to write speculative fiction at a very slow pace. His wife maintains this is a good outcome considering the more expensive and cliched alternatives. Evidence of Mark's attempts to procrastinate in his writing, including general musings and reviews of books he has been reading, can be found at

One of Mark’s very best forms of writing procrastination is to produce the eBook series for AntipodeanSF, which he has been doing since issue 175.


In The Next Issue...

Coming In Issue 255

Break In
by David Scholes

Dial Up
by Andrew Dunn

Keep Smiling
by Ryan Priest

Late One Night in a University Bar
by Colin L. Howe

by Terry Persun

Sons of Decay
by Timothy Yang

The Day Chivalry Died
by Eugen Bacon

The Golden Word
by Zebuline Carter

The Little Drone That Could
by Shane Griffin

The Misplaced Giant
by Grace Chan

The Prince
by Botond Teklesz

Things That Might Help
by Karen Andrews

The Contributors

frank prem 200Frank Prem has been a storytelling poet for forty years. When not writing or reading his poetry to an audience, he fills his time by working as a psychiatric nurse.

He has been published in magazines, e-zines and anthologies, in Australia and in a number of other countries, and has both performed and recorded his work as ‘spoken word’.

Frank has published two collections of free verse poetry – Small Town Kid (2018) and Devil In The Wind (2019).

He and his wife live in the beautiful township of Beechworth in northeast Victoria (Australia).


Frank’s mythologically themed and audio recorded poems were produced and accompanied by his wife, singer/songwriter Leanne Murphy.


Small Town Kid (2018) A free verse memoir of growing up in rural Australia in the 1960s and 70s.

Devil In The Wind (2019) In free verse, the voices of victims and survivors of the horrendous Black Saturday bushfires in Victoria (Australia) in 2009

The New Asylum – a memoir of psychiatry (scheduled November 2019) A free verse memoir of a lifetime growing up with and experiencing public sector psychiatry in Victoria (Australia), from the 1960s to the present day.

Herja, Devastation (2019) an experimental fusion of free verse poetry and prose by Australian authors Frank Prem and Cage Dunn to tell the story of a Valkyrie and her mortal assassin/accomplice as they mete justice and vengeance.

Frank Prem Contacts and Social Media

Author Page (Newsletter sign up): <>.

Facebook page: <>.

YouTube: <>.

Twitter: @frank_prem <>.

Amazon: <>.

Goodreads: <>.


rubino del sur 200Dr. del Sur left his practice in the Barrow straits of Alaska after taking a sabbatical in Jerusalem to explore the chattels of binding, a branch of experimental dentistry that references the Maquilas teeth worn round necks in invisible servitude.

In his increasing role as an international troubleshooter he was involved thereafter with various dentitions of radioactive speech, but has not left dentistry behind, even if his present post in Antarctica is in a location undisclosed, near the trans Antarctic mountains that divide east and west, the vicinity of the Leveett Glacier of the Queen Mauds planned route for overland supply joining McMurdo and Amundsen-Scott Stations.

Such research is conducted far from observed eye where removals in the dental cosmos of the invisible chattels of liberation are well represented in the innocent teeth-mountains, although certain culpable agencies are not to be named.


jack beltane 200Jack Beltane is a resident of Melbourne, born 1973 in Perth, grew up traveling the country following his navy father on various postings.

Growing up with Doctor Who, Lost in Space, Twilight Zone and Star Wars all influence Jack's writing style. He started writing at age of 13, choose your own adventure books, poetry by age 17 and retired from writing at age of 18 to follow a career in the military and railways, which both involved travelling interstate to find work.

Fast forward 24 years to 2014, fiscal crisis at work meant poverty or study, enrolled in University of Tasmania, studying for the next three years a Bachelor of Arts History major.

Moved interstate again in 2017, Jack began in 2018 a Bachelor of Arts Writing Major at Victoria University. The two study fields of history and writing have seen Jack write across many genres from Sci Fi, poetry, non-fiction (lyric essays), playwriting and memoirs. You can find out more at his website: <>.


Maree Collie loves the idea of Flash Fiction. So much to say in such alittle space. She also dabbles in short stories, monologues and plays.

Maree has had pieces published in anthologies, a play performed in 2018, and a monologue slated for performance October 2019.

She hascompleted a BA in Professional and Creative Writing at DeakinUniversity.

Triffooper Saxelbax is an emerging (and often grating) voice in the unsplatterpunk subgenre. He attempts to write stories that are too “too scatological for human consumption” and “excessively excessive.” When he is not writing, he stir-fries vegetables and decorates pine cones. His work has not been translated into any other languages. Neither has it been nominated for nor appeared in the year’s best so and so. Saxelbax’s mental exertions have caused numerous regional power outages.

mconlyMichael Connolly lives in Bowraville NSW, Australia. He has worked as an art teacher, music teacher, printer and illustrator among other things (such as chicken de-beaker), and has a keen interest in science-fiction and the natural sciences. He has illustrated for the magazine Tabula Rasa, which specialises in the horror genre, and is a regular contributor to AntipodeanSF.



robert caldwell 200Robert writes about himself:

You can also find this story in my collection The Other Side of Forever, on Amazon.

I grew up in Birmingham, Alabama. I have a cat that sometimes gets in the way of my typing. I am also a photographer. At 48 years of age I was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome, a high functioning form of autism. Recently I have become a self advocate.

I graduated from Huntingdon College in 1981. I studied photography at night classes held at the University of Alabama in Birmingham. I got an MS degree in Journalism at Murray State University. Then I worked at newspapers and publications without much success before I went to Portfolio Center in Atlanta in 1994 to study Commercial Photography. After one year I left because I did not like the teachers or their teaching methods. Not having very much success finding commercial photography jobs I worked at several retail establishments in Atlanta until I decided to move back to Birmingham Alabama in 2002. I got a degree in Web Design in 2007 From Jefferson State Community College and once again couldn’t find work. I have found a new purpose in life since my diagnoses. I am a Governor appointee on the Alabama Interagency Autism Coordinating Council and the Regional Autism Network as well as volunteering for several activist organizations, all well being a caregiver for my Mother.

Growing up autistic I always had a different angle on things. That may be why my stories are so strange.

Previously in Antipodeon I’ve had "A day In Caaatahlona 1 City Beneath The Waves," AntipodeanSF February 2018

I’ve also had the epic poem “The Blossom War,” published in 18th Wall’s anthology, The Dragon Lord’s Library.

I had a short story “Silver Image,” published in the Daguerreian Annual 2015.


Phill Berrie has had a lifelong love affair with science, speculative fiction and role playing. It was his love of role playing that led him to start writing in the spec-fic genre and his attention to detail (read OCD) that helped him fall into editing.

A life member of the ACT Writers Centre, he is the author of two published speculative fiction novels: The Changeling Detective, an urban fantasy, detective noire story set in and around Canberra, Australia; and Transgressions, a high fantasy tale about life changes, sex changes and petty gods. It is his sincere hope that he can get back to writing both these series as soon as his current magnum opus, an episodic, electronic choose-your-own-adventure story called Choices: And Their Heroes Were Lost (produced by Tin Man Games in Melbourne), is finally completed.

Phill now lives in semi-retirement in Yass, New South Wales. As well as his writing and editing, he commutes to Canberra three days a week to help science teachers teach science in his roles as the digital projects officer and pro tem publications manager for the Australian Science Teachers Association. Despite all his attempts to do otherwise, he has never worked harder in his life and dreams of retiring almost as much as he dreams of the fantastical worlds of his imagination.


Lachlan Walter is a writer and nursery-hand (the garden kind, not the baby kind), and has completed a PhD that critically and creatively explored the relationship between Australian post-apocalyptic fiction and Australian notions of national identity. He writes science fiction criticism for both Aurealis magazine and its offshoot blog, reviews for the independent ‘weird music’ website Cyclic Defrost, and is currently writing a book-length story cycle that aims to take giant monsters seriously. He loves all things music-related, the Australian environment, overlooked genres and working out in the garden.


Zeb writes:

Last week, on a whim I submitted some of my own musings to ‘Nuke’, and when I checked back today — my time in my ‘verse, which is plus six years comparative to you — I saw that he had published some of them! I wasn’t even sure the contrived email and attachment would get through, let alone end up published on your internet of things. (BTW — We have nothing quite like your ‘net, but we’ve gone far further into the solar system than you have. Figure that!) Now that I know a connection is possible, I thought I’d tell you a little more about myself and where I’m from. So, from the beginning…

Hi. My name is Zebuline Carter — that’s Zeb for my friends or Zeb-you-leen if you want to get formal — and I’m a forty-two year old former astronaut now working as an administrator at Farside, on Luna. Farside is a research base, where innerscopes are just starting to peel back layers of our sheath of the local multiverse. Because our work is so sensitive to em influences, Farside is situated within a one hundred klom diameter exclusion zone.

In my late teens I earned a double major in aerospace and business but passed over grad school for civilian astronaut training. As a kid I collected coupons from cereal boxes until I had enough for my first telescope, and built scale models of all the commercial shuttles and orbiters. Growing up, I’d always felt slightly out of place, like I was meant to to be somewhere else and part of me already was — until, that is, I had my first trip into low orbit aboard a high-riding intercont-cruiser, or ICC. That was a high-school graduation present from my Uncle Jim, and during the fifteen minutes of freefall I found that other part of myself, grabbed it tight, and never let go since.

Did I also mention I’m 180 cents tall with bobbed chestnut hair? Or that because of heart damage from a bad landing, I’m also marooned in low gravity? But heh, there are now six bases around Luna, supporting a permanent population of around twelve thousand Lunans, and a transient population of several thousand tourists and stopovers returning form the outer system, so it never gets boring and I don’t get lonely. And living in low G means I won’t age or sag as fast, either.

Until next time —


pscottier 200 19PS Cottier is a poet living in Canberra, who often writes speculative poetry, and occasionally dabbles in prose.


Kevin J. PhylandRetired after 33 years of teaching, Kevin now indulges his passions full-time: weather, reading and writing. His fiction usually embraces darker themes or the new weird, but lately he has gone back to more traditional old school SFF. He has set himself the task of reading every Stephen King novel, in order, and all of the recommended SF reading lists of Locus magazine for the last 35 years <>. His eyes hurt.


AntipodeanSF November 2019


Speculative Fiction
ISSN 1442-0686

Online Since Feb 1998

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Poetry by Frank Prem

she sat at her wheel 
beneath the broad sweep
of open sky

as each bright ray
reached down to touch her
and warm her while she worked
she caught it in a tender grasp
crooned quietly
and applied herself
to the repetitions

warm and spin
warm and spin

as the day cooled
ray upon ray
she shawled herself against the chill
and spun
until the last

until the night

and then
the loom

clack clack
and clack again

the shuttle flew
she wove for morning

for another rising
of the sun

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I danced in the flames
the heat licked all over me
but I did not burn
not at all

I lay down in the stream
the water rose above me
but I did not drown
not at all

I stood in the storm
the wind raved around me
but I was not moved
not at all

I speak to the sun

I listen to the night

I dream this world
in its laughter and its tears
but I do not asleep
not at all

I speak to the sun

I listen to the night

I dream this world
in its laughter and its tears
but I do not asleep
not at all

not at all

I do not sleep

not at all

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she drew her hands from the pool
squeezed and shaped the mud
sang a murmur while she patted the form
la la  la-la-la  la la
and moulded a small man-figure
that she sat down beside her

she gave him a mouth
and two eyes
then breathed on him once

breathed again

la la  la-la-la  la la

it was no surprise at all
when he moved his arms
clambered up to stand wobbling
on the legs she’d made
especially for him

the first word that he spoke
was her name

and that was the song they sang together

when the call rang out for supper
she put him down
back in the water he came from

she would return later
to squeeze and shape the mud
and breathe him into life


la la


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a man is seated at the table
in a small house 
behind the sun

he is old
fingers gnarled
but he grasps tight the cogs
in his stiff bony hands
and adjusts the links
in a length of chain

underneath his breath
to a time-piece rhythm

ah-yay ah-yay ah-yay ah

ah-yay ah-yay ye-ah

mutters to the woman beside him

old lady
can you get a working man
his cup of tea

for if the sun’s to rise
I’ll be freeing-up these cogs
all night

it’s going to be a long slow time
until morning

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AntiSF's Narration Team

garry dean narratorGarry Dean lives on the Mid Coast of New South Wales Australia, and has been a fan of SF for most of his natural life. Being vision impaired, he makes good use of voice recognition and text to speech in order to write. Many of his stories have appeared in AntipodeanSF over the years, and his love of all things audio led him to join the narration team in 2017.

You can read examples of Garry's fiction on his website <>

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david whitaker 200David Whitaker is originally from the UK though has travelled around a bit and now resides in India. He has a degree in Journalism, however decided that as he’s always preferred making things up it should ultimately become a resource rather than a profession.

His stories, covering everything from sci-fi to philosophy, have been published across the globe and links to each can be found at <>

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mark english 100Mark is an astrophysicist and space scientist who worked on the Cassini/Huygens mission to Saturn. Following this he worked in computer consultancy, engineering, and high energy research (with a stint at the JET Fusion Torus).

All this science hasn't damped his love of fantasy and science fiction. It has, however, ruined his enjoyment of rainbows, colourful flames on romantic log fires, and rings around the moon. He has previously been published in Stupefying Stories Showcase, Everyday Fiction, Escape Pod, Perihelion and also on AntipodeanSF where he is part of the narration team.

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marg essex 200Margaret lives the good life on a small piece of rural New South Wales Australia, with an amazing man, a couple of pets, and several rambunctious wombats.

She feels so lucky to be a part of the AntiSF team.

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timonthy gwyn 100Timothy Gwyn is a professional pilot in Canada, where he flies to remote communities. During a lull in his flying career, he was a radio announcer for three years, and he is also an author.

In addition to short stories at AntipodeanSF and, his SF novel is available internationally in print and ebook formats. "Avians" draws on his love of alternative aviation to tell the tale of a girl who runs away from home to join a cadre of glider pilots on a world without metal or fossil fuels.

On Twitter, he is @timothygwyn, and his blogs are at <>.

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carolyn eccles 100

Carolyn's work spans devising, performance, theatre-in-education and a collaborative visual art practice.

She tours children's works to schools nationally with School Performance Tours, is a member of the Bathurst physical theatre ensemble Lingua Franca and one half of darkroom — a visual arts practice with videographer Sean O'Keeffe.

(Photo by Jeremy Belinfante) 

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lauriebell 2 200Laurie Bell lives in Melbourne, Australia. She was that girl you found with her nose always buried in a book. She has been writing ever since she was a little girl and first picked up a pen. From books to short stories, radio plays to snippets of ideas and reading them aloud to anyone who will listen.

She is the author of The Butterfly Stone (YA/ Fantasy — available now) and White Fire (Sci Fi — available now)

You can read more of her work on her blog Look for her on Facebook <> or Twitter: <@LaurienotLori>

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pixie willo 100Pixie is a voice actor, cabaret performer & slam poet From the Blue Mountains in NSW.

She enjoys writing short fiction, plays for radio and stage as well as her own brand of weird poetry.

She hosts the 'Off-Beet Poetry Slam' held bi-monthly in Katoomba,

And is a theatre reviewer for 2SER FM in Sydney.

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SF News

SF News

The paperback version of AntipodeanSF contributor David Schole's new book, “Contingency Nine and Other Science Fiction Stories”, is now available from Amazon.  The e-book version will follow soon.


Upcoming Cons

GenreCon, Australia’s largest writers’ conference, is dedicated to all things slashy, kissy, bloody and suspensey. This year is all about thriving in your genre, so our program is focused on you, so that you can grow closer to your tribe, whether it be romance, sci-fi, fantasy, crime, or horror. More info at <>.

Swancon 45 - National Convention 2020. 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: <>

WorldCon 78 2020 ConZealand, 29/07/2020 - 02/08/2020 Wellington, New Zealand Worldcon 78 in 2020 is to be held in Wellington, New Zealand, on 29 July – 02 August 2020. Antipodeans, mark it in your calendar now — and the rest of the world, well, it’s time for you mark it in your calendars too: to visit the other side in 2020. Facilities for the event include: TSB Arena and Shed 6, the Michael Fowler Centre and the Intercontinental Hotel. More information is on offer at the official website of ConZealand: <>. AntipodeanSF's editor, Nuke, will be at ConZealand!

For more up-to-date Aussie SF info join the ASFF: <>.

The AntipodeanSF Radio Show

AntiSF Radio Show

antipod-show-50The AntipodeanSF Radio Show delivers audio from the pages of this magazine.

The weekly program features the stories from recently published issues, usually narrated by the authors themselves.

Listen to the latest episode now:

The AntipodeanSF Radio Show is also broadcast on community radio, 2NVR, 105.9FM every Saturday evening at 8:30pm.

You can find every broadcast episode online here: 

SF Quote

If you want to see the true measure of a man, watch how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.

J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

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