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  • In celebration of the release of Kameron Hurley’s MEET ME IN THE FUTURE, Tachyon presents glimpses from “hard-edged pieces that gleam like gems in a mosaic.” (Publishers Weekly)

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    Garda

    by Kameron Hurley


    Abijah finished her first can of rum as the world began to grow more bearable at the edges. A persistent message tap-tapped at the edge of her vision, a little red arrow indicating a conferenced call from Maurille and Savida. She brooded on it a long moment, then popped open the other can and accepted the call. The safety notification asked her to confirm she was not currently mobile or operating any type of machinery. She checked “no” and her wives’ faces filled her vision.

    Maurille and Savida projected an image of themselves that was certainly far removed from wherever they were currently holidaying on the continent. They both looked severe and buttoned up, as if expecting a business negotiation to break out at any moment. Maurille, tall and lean, like an exceptionally well-bred tree, was older, her face softer now around the edges. Maurille and Abijah had married first, and Savida had come later, a slim woman a decade their junior whose fisher-family had supported her schooling in bio-environmentalism on the continent and then welcomed her back as a local government resource steward. Somehow the two of Abijah’s spouses grew more serious, brought together, no doubt, when Abijah had gone away to the war. When Abijah came back, maybe, there had been time to repair what the three of them had, but she hadn’t been ready back then. Wasn’t ready now.

    “Are you drinking?” Maurille asked, softly concerned.

    “Nah,” Abijah said, sipping her rum.

    Savida made a face, because though Abijah had chosen a fine upstanding image of herself to project to them, they could certainly hear everything.

    “We’re calling about the dog,” Maurille said.

    “What dog?” Abijah said.

    “There was a dog in the apartment,” Savida said, “when we came to get our overnight bags for the trip up. Did you get a dog?”

    Abijah turned to look around the room; the motion of her head flipped the full-screen of the faces to the bottom left corner of one eye, letting her get a view of her actual surroundings instead of the projected ones. “No dog here,” Abijah said, but she got up anyway, sipping the rum as she did, and checked the two bedrooms, the closet, and the little balcony, just in case.

    “No dog,” Abijah said. “No paw prints. Not even a shit.”

    Maurille said, “It was quite clearly in the apartment.”

    A knock came at the door. Distracted, Abijah wondered if Pats had come back to try and lick the inside of the pastry box. She opened the door, hoping for a distraction from her wives—and got a fist in her face.


    For info on MEET ME IN THE FUTURE, visit the Tachyon page.

    Cover by Carl Sutton
    Design by Elizabeth Story

  • Nick Mamatas’ acclaimed collection THE PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF EVERYTHING is a Kindle Daily Deal for Thursday, August 22 .

    For today only, the ebook is available for just $1.99!


    “[Mamatas] is the People’s Commissar of Awesome.”
    —China Miéville, author of Embassytown

    Welcome to the People’s Republic of Everything—of course, you’ve been here for a long time already. Make yourself at home alongside a hitman who always tells the truth, no matter how reality has to twist itself to suit; electric matchstick girls who have teamed up with Friedrich Engels; a telepathic boy and his father’s homemade nuclear bomb; a very bad date that births an unforgettable meme; and a dog who simply won’t stop howling on social media.

    THE PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF EVERYTHING features a decade’s worth of crimes, fantasies, original fiction, and the author’s preferred text of the acclaimed short novel Under My Roof.

    “Each tale is entertaining on its surface, but all hold a deeper meaning … This collection will be an easy sell to readers who enjoy genre-blending authors of thought-provoking and topical tales, such as Jeffrey Ford, China Miéville, and Jeff VanderMeer.”
    Booklist, starred review

    “The 15 stories in Mamatas’s strong collection show impressive imaginative range, cutting across the boundaries of fantasy and science fiction and veering into territory that defies genre pigeonholing.”

    Publishers Weekly

    “Bay Area author Nick Mamatas is renowned in his work and in his online presence as witty and perspicacious; his new collection will bolster that reputation … brilliant, oddball.”
    Seattle Times

    “THE PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF EVERYTHING is a subversive and darkly humorous collection of stories showcasing author Nick Mamatas’s ability to work across a variety of genres.”
    Shelf Awareness


    TABLE OF CONTENTS

    • Introduction by Jeffrey Ford
    • Walking with a Ghost
    • Arbeitskraft
    • The People’s Republic of Everywhere and Everything
    • Tom Silex, Spirit-Smasher
    • The Great Armored Train
    • The Phylactery
    • Slice of Life
    • The Glottal Stop
    • The Spook School
    • A Howling Dog
    • Lab Rat
    • Dreamer of the Day
    • We Never Sleep
    • Under My Roof


    “Mamatas is such a great novelist that it’s easy to forget he also writes superb short stories. This collection is a testament to his short-form chops, and a powerful one at that.”
    LitReactor

    “Nick Mamatas is the gadfly that makes the horse buck—whip-smart and no bullshit and with one hell of a bite. These are canny, nimble stories that navigate between genre and literature, and are unlike what anyone else is writing.”
    —Brian Evenson, author of The Warren and Fugue State

    “Mamatas at his best. Makes me laugh. Makes me drop things. Makes me read on. Makes me run for cover.”
    ―Terry Bisson, author of Bears Discover Fire

    “How does speculative fiction retain its relevance in an era when daily events feel fictitious and the mere possibility of a future seems speculative? If anyone knows the answer, it’s Nick Mamatas. THE PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF EVERYTHING is a great leap forward. Let’s hope there’s somewhere to land.”
    —Jarett Kobek, author of I Hate the Internet


    For more info on THE PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF EVERYTHING, visit the Tachyon page.

    Cover by Elizabeth Story



  • Usman T Malik came to visit the office and sign some books!
    #usmantmalik #thenewvoicesoffantasy #fantasybooks #aroundtheoffice #publishing #tachyon #tachyonpublications
    https://www.instagram.com/p/B1cTylDAQXu/?igshid=g3vxvagmy1gm

  • In celebration of the release of Kameron Hurley’s MEET ME IN THE FUTURE, Tachyon presents glimpses from “one of the best short story collections you will read this year.” (B&N Sci-Fi & Fantasy Blog)


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    Elephants and Corpses

    by Kameron Hurley


    Bodies are only beautiful when they aren’t yours. It’s why Nev had fallen in love with bodies in the first place. When you spent time with the dead you could be anyone you wanted to be. They didn’t know any better. They didn’t want to have long conversations about it. They were vehicles. Transport. Tools. They were yours in a way that no living thing ever could be.

    Nev stood at the end of the lower city’s smallest pier with Tera, his body manager, while she snuffled and snorted with some airborne contagion meant to make her smarter. She was learning to talk to the dead, she said, and you only picked up a skill like that if you went to some viral wizard who soaked your head in sputum and said a prayer to the great glowing wheel of God’s eye that rode the eastern horizon. Even now, the boiling mass of stars that made up the God’s eye nebula was so bright Nev could see it in broad daylight. It was getting closer, the priests all said. Going to gobble them up like some cancer.

    Why Tera needed to talk to the dead when Nev did just fine with them as they were was a mystery. But it was her own body, her slice of the final take to spend, and he wasn’t going to argue about what she did with it.

    “You buying these bodies or not?” said the old woman in the pirogue. She’d hooked the little boat to the snarling amber head of a long-mummified sea serpent fixed to the pier. In Nev’s fascination with the dead body, he’d forgotten about the live one trying to sell it to him.

    “Too rotten,” Tera said.

    “Not if we prepare it by day’s end,” Nev said. “Just the big one, though. The kid, I can’t do anything with.”

    He pulled out a hexagonal coin stamped with the head of some long-dead upstart; a senator, maybe, or a juris priest. The old folks in charge called themselves all sorts of things over the years, but their money spent the same. He wondered for a minute if the bodies were related; kid and her secondary father, or kid and prime uncle. They were both beginning to turn, now, the bodies slightly bloated, overfull, but he could see the humanity, still; paintings in need of restoration.

    “Some body merc you are!” the old woman said. “Underpaying for prime flesh. This is good flesh, here.” She rubbed her hands suggestively over the body’s nearly hairless pate.  

    Nev jabbed a finger at the empty pier behind him; she arrived with her bodies too late—the fish mongers had long since run out of stock, and the early risers had gone home. “Isn’t exactly a crowd, is there?” He pushed his coat out of the way, revealing the curved hilt of his scimitar.

    She snarled at him. It was such a funny expression, Nev almost laughed. He flipped her the coin and told Tera to bring up the cart. Tera grumbled and snuffled about it, but within a few minutes the body was loaded. Tera took hold of the lead on their trumpeting miniature elephant, Falid, and they followed the slippery boardwalk of the humid lower city into the tiers of the workhouses and machinery shops of the first circle. While they walked, Falid gripped Nev’s hand with his trunk. Nev rubbed Falid’s head with his other hand. Falid had been with him longer than Tera; he’d found the little elephant partly skinned and left to rot in an irrigation ditch ten years before. He’d nursed him back to health on cabbage and mango slices, back when he could afford mangos.


    For info on MEET ME IN THE FUTURE, visit the Tachyon page.

    Cover by Carl Sutton
    Design by Elizabeth Story

  • In celebration of the release of Kameron Hurley’s MEET ME IN THE FUTURETachyon presents glimpses from “one of the best story collections of the past few years.” (Booklist)

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    The Corpse Archives

    by Kameron Hurley


    The bodies you speak of, those that existed before the world was silenced and unmade, the bodies of my first memory, are those that danced naked on the hard, black earth around the fires our keepers allowed us. Our fires threw coals into the thick, hot air; coals that flared and darkened and died and drifted down upon us, coating our hands, our faces, our brown bodies, in black soot that made us darker than the earth.

    Whenever I tried to join the dancers, the woman who called herself my mother would clutch me to her with her claws.

    “Keep here, keep here, Anish,” she would say. The lids never closed over her bulging eyes. Her mouth was cut wide, so wide that her face was all mouth and lips and teeth. I dream about her still, about her devouring me whole.

    She was so beautiful.

    “Don’t you join that, don’t dance that,” she would say. “You dance that and you’ll be like the rest of us. A mistake, a burned thing. Not made, not used, just nothing.”

    When the stack of synthetic logs burned down to a fine black dust, the woman who called herself my mother released me. I ran across the earth to join the dancers outside the covered sleeping pens. Here, they told me the stories of their bodies.

    When I think of my first conception of a written record of the past, I think of a body called Senna who had a burn-scarred face with burned-shut eyes. It was this body that showed us how the sky burned when the keepers came; the rivers ran red as the ripple of welts that ran down across the body’s throat, over the breasts, ending in a pool of scarred flesh that was once the navel. Senna went mad before the keepers finished writing on her. She screamed and cried and begged to be taken to the pens, to live out her life among the other partially perfected texts that the keepers could not bear to throw away.

    I was the most hideous of these texts. I knew it even then, when the woman who called herself my mother could still carry me in her arms. The other texts had traces of unwritten flesh—smooth, incomplete, ugly—but I, I was completely untouched. The whole of my body remained as it had been birthed. I was grotesque, obscene. They were merely incomplete.

    These incomplete texts told me I was placed there because the woman who birthed me was a violent body, a mad thing that marked her own history upon her body. She cut open the contents of her self and spilled them onto the cold metal floor of the birthing center … including me. She died in her own blood and entrails and my afterbirth.

    I was the living text of my mother’s existence, the other bodies said. That was why the keepers saved me … But knowing that did not make me any more beautiful.


    For info on MEET ME IN THE FUTURE, visit the Tachyon page.

    Cover by Carl Sutton
    Design by Elizabeth Story

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