Kristen Keenon Fisher
Bio
"You are everything you're afraid you are not."
-- Serros
The Quantum Cartographer - Book of Cruxes. (Audio book now available on Spotify)
Stories (71)
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Affinity
“Mission to ground control – do you read me?” Silence. “Atticus to base – do you read me?” Atticus is coming in hot. “Shuttle missed re-entry. Gonna try to put her down a few miles off the coast. “Static.” Atticus slams the console. His transmission goes wry with no intercept. His pod looks like a ball of fire streaking across the blue and white sky. The turbulence is mounting. And so is the temperature. His instruments have a mind of their own. He looks down at a piece of paper with scribbled equations, scrunches it, and tosses it behind him. Atticus’ pod chars in an ozone air fryer.
By Kristen Keenon Fisher3 years ago in Fiction
Let There Be Light
Dear Diary, it’s day 5. I say it out loud but it’s still hard to believe. I’ve been on this island trapped in a dream for five days straight. I’m not sure if that’s dream days or Earth days. It took a day or three, but I remember. Perhaps my entire consciousness hadn’t fully downloaded into my brain. But I remember now. I remember my real life. I have a wife – a daughter. I can still see them in brief flashes. The patter of my daughter’s footsteps as she stumbles down the stairs. The beckoning aroma of my wife’s morning coffee. My last waking memory is my daughter’s birthday. We went out for ice cream and…she was so happy. I remember falling asleep that night. I had been working late on a file and I was running on fumes. Too many sleepless nights. The calendar on my dream phone says today is September 22nd and her birthday was the 17th. Given that, I tried to surf the web but apparently, there’s no actual Wi-Fi in the dream world. That’s a real missed opportunity by the modern telecom industry.
By Kristen Keenon Fisher3 years ago in Fiction
Out of Sight, Out of time
The blurred lights of the pier cast a misty glow as Eliza trembles in the cold teeth of a winter night. She doesn’t want to be here. Her face is so frozen it burns. The exhaust funnels from her lips in thick clouds. She rubs her hands together at fire-starting speed and tucks them beneath the arms of her jacket. Should’ve worn gloves. Gelid water sloshes and chafes the wooden beams of the dock. August—he should’ve been here by now. She hasn’t seen him in months. These sudden disappearances have become commonplace. He only said that he had to go away for a while and to trust him. And then—a call in the middle of the night to meet him here, in this frozen hell. What was so important and secretive that it couldn’t be said over the phone? Why here? Her teeth chatter and click like a wound clock. She looks out into the frigid distance and stomps her foot. This is stupid.
By Kristen Keenon Fisher5 years ago in Futurism
The Bottomless Kingdom
NEON MIDNIGHT MANIA (Radio Static.) “In the beginning, God created man. A bipedal fledgling and accidental stepping stone she formed while trying to recreate herself in all her splendor and perfection. With no immediate use for man, God let the little minions roam amongst the animals and plants and trees of Earth while she continued to toil. Some centuries later, man’s Earth was war-torn. Whole portions of the bountiful planet were destroyed and rendered baron craters. Man, it seemed, had quite the temper. One that despite her most clever inventions, God couldn’t seem to remedy. A deluge and several threats of damnation later, God had lost all hope. Her divine patience worn thin. But, just when the thought of giving up and burning the whole goddamn place to ash seemed the only solution, her fiery hand was stilled by the twinkling of a star. An idea came suddenly to her. A way of giving man the opportunity to understand the preciousness of life and his responsibility to it. She bestowed man with the human form of herself… and the gift of procreation. That’s right–she gave him a penis. And boy did he put it to use. It was god’s hope that through the act of conception man would realize his greater connection to universal order and embody a more tolerant, virtuous nature toward his environment. Hell, at least use his new toy as some sort of¬–de-pressurizer. Another outlet for his raging blood to flow instead of fueling the seek, destroy, conquer, repeat protocol of his brain. Big mistake. Not only did man use his heavenly antenna as nothing more than a personal divining rod, he declared himself supreme, the more fit and level headed of the species and then … He proceeded to strip woman of all her rights.” The female speaker is struck silent by her own words as she ponders the audacity. “As if he just climbed out from the gaping vagina of the woman who birthed him into this world, with his chin high, clicking his tiny little karabiners together, thinking, ‘Ahh, another successful conquest.’ I mean, can you fu¬–"
By Kristen Keenon Fisher5 years ago in Futurism
The Quantum Cartographer
New Kressya - The Lost Aeon “The glorious city of New Kressya lays over these waters as a living tribute in steel and stone. A tribute to those who took the first arduous steps toward the realization of our kingdom and offered their lives in sacrifice.” Aligos’s voice carries over the thousands in attendance as he speaks in front of the Gargotheon surrounded by his army. The broad walls of the entrance ascend like enormous tusks on either side of him. The sky is pale and mirthless. The city is overgrown by its own shadow.
By Kristen Keenon Fisher5 years ago in Futurism
