Plasma Frequency Magazine: Issue 13

Cover art: “The Kelpie’s Revenge” by Tias Teng

Staff:

Editor-in-Chief, Richard Flores IV

Assistant Editor, Amy Flores

Assistant Editor, Molly Moss

Assistant Editor, Vacant

Assistant Editor, Alex Sidles

Assistant Editor, JT Howard

Assistant Editor, Alexis Hunter

Marketing and Advertising, Vacant

Art Editor, Vacant

Plasma Frequency ISSN 2168-1309 (Print) and ISSN
2168-1317 (Electronic), Issue 13 September/October 2014. Published bimonthly by Plasma Spyglass Press, Auburn, Washington

Annual subscription available at www.plasmafrequencymagazine.com.  Print edition $32.99 for US residents for one year.  Electronic edition $9.99 for one year.

Printed by CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform under ISBN: 978-1500765415

Copyright © 2014 by Plasma Spyglass Press.  All Rights Reserved.

www.plasmafrequencymagazine.com

www.plasmaspyglass.com

In This Issue

From the Editor

“So How Can it be a
Faux Pas
If Everybody Does It?
” by Milo James Fowler

“The Woman Who Was More Than a Wrench” by
D.A. D’Amico

“The Great Exodus:
Into the Wasteland” by Steve Coate

“They Never Remember” by CJ Jessop

“The Glamour Man” by Michael A. Pignatella

“Bitter Remedy” By Krystal Claxton

“Maker, Oppressor, Memory” by Blaize M. Kaye

“The Aluminum Curtain” by Tory Hoke

“Scent of Night” By Gutavo Bondoni

“Day of Reckoning” by Brian K. Lowe

“Familiarity” by DJ Daniels

From the Editor

When you start a magazine you hope for success. You are doing it for fun, but you are also doing it because you want to be a success.  I don’t think anyone gets into publishing because it is easy. There is a special satisfaction to publishing the hard work of writers; putting story-tellers in touch with those that want to read them.  Each issue brings me a special satisfaction, and that is why I put in all the work to get this magazine together.

But, just because you want success doesn’t mean you get it.  Each year so many publications fold for a variety of reasons. Some don’t even make it past the first issue, fewer make it past the first year, and even less seem to get to three year. So I consider it a great blessing to have made it to our third
publication year with Issue 13.

You may have already noticed but I am high on life right now, and that comes from my recent return from DetCon1, the NASFiC held in Detroit.  I was able to speak on several panels, including a panel on what editors were looking for. This was a panel with some big names, including Neil Clarke from
Clarkesworld
. He and his magazine are a big inspiration for me and the starting of this magazine.  The convention was a great time, and just like last year at LonStarCon 3, I came home ready to make
Plasma Frequency
the best magazine.  It won’t happen overnight, but it will happen.

So what is coming for our third year? Well, for one
, we have decided to go back to our roots. We will be mixing up our issues with shorter and longer fiction. You will see a mixture of flash, short, and longer fiction.  We are also going back to our free to read days. You may even be reading this from our website. Don’t worry, if you still like to read from your eReader or in print, those editions will remain.

And while our survey is still going on, it seems clear that raising author pay rates is a huge priority for our readers. However this relies on more money, and I already put all my spare income (is there such a thing) into this magazine. So we are asking for a little support from you. There are all kinds of ways to support. We launched a Patreon page. This is a great way to donate a small amount of money monthly, and we have set defined goals so you can see what it will take for us to raise our pay rates. You can also do a onetime donation from our website, or advertise a product or service. Can’t spare any money right now? I understand that, but there are still ways to help. Share our Patreon page. Share your favorite stories. Review an issue on Amazon. Anything to help tell people we are here is appreciated.

Also new this year, we will be publishing Steve Coate’s fiction serial
The Great Exodus
. This six part serial will be released over the six issues of year three, starting with this issue. This gives our readers a chance to enjoy something longer than our 7,000 word limit, and we are excited about that. 

It is also time to vote for the Year Two Anthology. For those that don’t know, we publish an anthology of reader and editor chosen stories each year.  You can visit our website to get all the details and to vote on your
favorite stories from each issue.  As I mentioned above, there is a short survey about our magazine before voting. The deadline to vote is September 16
th
.  The Year Two Anthology is expected to be released in the fall, just in time for Christmas.

We have a lot of other plans in motion. So watch future issues, Facebook, and Twitter for more information on the things we have planned for this magazine.   For now,
let me step aside and let the work of our authors shine.

Richard Flores IV

Editor-in-Chief

So How Can it be a
Faux Pas
If Everybody Does It?

By
Milo James Fowler

Mom says it's like pointing when she was a kid, only nobody points anymore—not with their fingers, anyway. She had to demonstrate so I'd know what she was talking about, her index finger dangling in midair. It was just the two of us in the kitchen, and she was programming dinner at the cooktop.

I guess it's a bad habit, but I can't help myself. Maybe I'm too curious.

"Curiosity killed the cats," she tells me.

She had a cat when she was my age, before they all died out. Sometimes animals just become extinct, she says, like the panda and the polar bear and all the others I've only seen online.

"You're pointing with your eyes, and it's rude," she told me after we returned from the gym. Mom likes us to go at least three times a week so her butt will look good. I go to people-watch, and when she found out about that, I earned this present scolding. "You wouldn't pick your nose in public, would you?"

"They're all staring at their slates. They never catch me looking."

"If they did, Bo, it would be so awkward. I just want to spare you from that."

She must have figured that being fourteen, I was already prone to enough awkwardness.

"We look at each other, you and me." I bug out my eyes at her as she sets down our dinner on the table. My favorite meal: extra-cheesy macaroni with diced jalapeños. "Why isn't it rude at home?"

She glances at me and almost smiles, returning her almond eyes to the spork she stabs into her dinner. She's thirty-two but looks ten years younger, though I'd never tell her that. You don't tell your mom she's the prettiest lady in the complex unless she's having an extra-bad day or you're okay with getting a lecture on why it's rude to look at other ladies for comparison—pointing my eyes where they shouldn't be pointing.

"It's different. You know that." She sighs before taking a bite. "How many followers on your FanFare now?"

"23,000-ish," I mumble around a mouthful.

"See? You're well on your way. Now what if word got out that you were looking at people? What'll come next? Will you start
 
talking
 to them?" She chuckles.

"We talk."

She shakes her head. "People do whatever they want at home. And besides, I'm your mom. You don't have to impress me with your manners. But I do appreciate them."

"Maybe I don't want to impress other people, either."

"Typical teenage rebellion, is that what this is?" Another sigh. "Do you want to be a typical teenager?"

Heck no. But I'd never tell her that.

~

At school, I know better than to press my luck. The teachers are trained to look up from their slates at unpredictable intervals to make sure we're not doing the same. All of our lessons, assignments, discussions, and group projects are done via slate. We could stay home and accomplish just as much—which is actually a lot; don't be fooled by the tone of my teenage angst-driven narrative. But my mom, who was a teacher before she started interviewing celebrities and making a decent living at it, explains that part of the
 
hidden curriculum
 in school teaches us how to behave socially. So they cram me and a hundred of my closest friends into a classroom six hours a day, and the teachers rotate through every period to make sure we remain glued to our slates instead of looking around and actually 
talking
 to each other.

None of it is very
 
hidden
, if you ask me.

But you didn't. Nor did you ask what we do during our lunch breaks or PE periods, but I'll tell you anyway. During lunch, we link up for multiplayer games or chat, and during PE, we pack our slates into our lockers—which feels like amputating a limb and leaving it behind—and climb aboard cross-training machines with built-in screens, like at the gym. The conditioning continues, training our eyes never to wander from what matters most: whatever is on the screen.

Mom once told me that when she was a kid, they used to play outside. It's a wonder her entire generation didn't die from skin cancer.

"Things were different then," she says.

Right. They had cats. And they probably looked at each other all the time. Animals and social customs are both subject to extinction.

~

She's got her bag packed, ready to go as soon as I step off the bus and dash upstairs to our unit. Another gym trip is in our immediate future.

"Can I trust you to be polite this time?"

The alternative? I'd have to stay home alone with my slate. Give me a room full of people over that any day.

"Sure."

They never catch me. Their eyes are always focused on their screens, and they never consider the fact that a fourteen-year-old boy would find them more interesting than a game of 
Carnal Bludgeon II
.

But now we come to the crux of the story, that which the entire tale hinges upon. And not to disappoint my literature teacher, Ms. Aspen, it involves a bit of irony: Why do people bother going to the gym if nobody's looking at them anyway? Sure, there are health reasons, but why does my mom care about the shape of her rear end?

I called her on this once.

"I'm your mother," she said. "Don't embarrass me."

I can't be the only citizen in our sector who likes to people-watch, and someday soon, I'm sure I'll catch somebody else looking around who's not as careful as I am. We'll just see how awkward that moment is. It might even be kind of fun. Won't know until it happens, right?

But I don't contradict Mom. The last thing I want is her to leave me behind. Maybe because I'm afraid of missing out. Mostly because she's good company.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Milo James Fowler is a teacher by day and a speculative fictioneer by night. When he's not grading papers, he's imagining what the world might be like in a dozen alternate realities. He is an active SFWA member, and his work has appeared in more than 70 publications, including AE SciFi, Cosmos, Daily Science Fiction, Nature, and Shimmer. His novel Captain Bartholomew Quasar and the Space-Time Displacement Conundrum is forthcoming from Every Day Publishing. 
www.milojamesfowler.com