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)

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