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That Man Behind the Curtain – Farewell

Illustration from the first story on our site “The Dissection of Marcus Wade”

On April 2, 2012, we published our first story. It seemed fitting, then, to have our final content for the site also be on April 2.

Normally when we do a look behind the scenes, we look at our financial progress (or lack thereof). For our final look behind the scenes, I thought I’d highlight all that we’ve done that is positive.

Over the course of our eight years, we have done:

32 quarterly collections, which featured:

418 weekly stories, most with original art

107 quarterly exclusives

534 classified ads

30 advice columns from Dr. Synthia and Dr. Oort

12 horrorscopes

11 gossip columns

1 4-part serial

6 yearly anthologies, which featured:

6 corresponding successful Kickstarter campaigns

138 stories

23 pieces of art

All told, we published 530 authors and 20 illustrators. For many, we were their first publication, and many of those went on to bigger things! As much of a struggle as it has sometimes been, I’d like to think we did some good in the world.

Just because Mad Scientist Journal is closing, that doesn’t mean that we’re done. You can follow our future adventures at the following places:

DefCon One Publishing: Web / Facebook / Twitter

Dawn Vogel: Web / Facebook / Twitter / Patreon

Jeremy Zimmerman: Web / Facebook / Twitter / Patreon

Thank you for joining us on this adventure.

That Man Behind the Curtain – Farewell was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

[madscientistjournal]

Our Final Alumni Post Here!

With the closure of Mad Scientist Journal, this will be our final post sharing what our alumni have been up to on this site. Going forward, check out our Facebook and Twitter for occasional alumni news!

Recently, Atthis Arts announced the table of contents for their anthology, Community of Magic Pens, and it’s chock full of MSJ alums, including E.D.E. Bell, Andrew K. Hoe, Jennifer Lee Rossman, Lorraine Schein, Holly Schofield, D.A. Xiaolin Spires, and co-editor Dawn Vogel. You can preorder this book here!

Flame Tree Publishing has announced the lineup for their Bodies in the Library anthology, which includes classic tales and new stories from Deborah L. Davitt and Wendy Nikel! You can preorder this book here!

Finally, Deborah L. Davitt and co-editor Dawn Vogel have stories in issue 50 of New Myths!

Our Final Alumni Post Here! was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

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Thank You to Amanda Cherry!

Our final thank you for Mad Scientist Journal goes out to the inestimable Amanda Cherry! Amanda’s official title is “Editorial Assistant,” but she’s helped us out in many ways. She’s written letters from the editor for a couple of the quarterlies, and she helped out with social media for a while. She also read slush with us for Battling in All Her Finery, and she regularly helps us sell books at conventions and other events. She is our BEST salesperson, hands down!

So thank you, Amanda, for all of your assistance!

If you want to find more of what Amanda is up to (which includes her own writing), check out her author page on DefCon One!

Thank You to Amanda Cherry! was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

[madscientistjournal]

Fiction: Victorian Velociraptor with Violets

An essay by Amada, as provided by Andrew K. Hoe Art by Leigh Legler

The opera troupe could handle Amada being a fake name, but not that I was dying. They could handle my seven-foot velociraptor–Rodelia–and I sneaking away at night, but not that we were breaking into factories, hunting without luck for the serum that could save me.

My life-fibers were unraveling, my mutations accelerating, so I addressed everyone at morning meal.

“Rodes mimics any sound she hears. Perfectly.”

Madam Chien and the rest of the August Court of the Full Autumn Moon round the desert camp stared like they didn’t understand English, though they did. I’d learnt enough Chinese to know. Or maybe they were examining the worsening rash on my cheek. I angled my face away. The troupe’s airship, Full Autumn Moon, floated overhead, a great redwood junk, paneled sails gleaming silver in the morning light.

“Why are you telling us now?” Madam Chien, the soprano, asked. Even in her sleeping robe she was glamorous, ageless, ready for the stage.

I swallowed. She’d been kind to us, and I didn’t like what we were about to do. “We didn’t trust you. But now, we want to contribute more.”

Rodelia scratched the ground, rumbling disapproval. Eh-eh-eh-eh-eh …

Madam Chien looked at Rodelia’s five-fingered hands–not the three-clawed manus other raptors had. “Her ability is … traitwoven?”

Traitwoven, like her capacity to stand erect, handle human tools. Her almost-human intellect.

I nodded.

“Such a barbaric land, America. It’s supposedly illegal, but there are raptor-butlers and raptor-porters wherever we land. Black slaves escape north, only to be dragged back south.”

I growled internally. Rodelia’s traitweavings weren’t done here, in America, but in Europe–in a mountain laboratory-fortress we’d escaped months back, life-fibers warped by one Baron Veer.

Mine, too.

Out of everyone, Madam Chien alone knew we left while the troupe slept, but not that we’d been raiding Veer’s American factories: Veritas’s Elixirs and Tinctures. No serum in last night’s raid, but documents indicated Veer himself would be in Phoenix. We needed to steer the August Court there.

“Rodelia can sing.”

That caused the stir I’d expected. Venerable Manager Shen, whose queue was always perfectly braided down his back, sputtered on his pipe. “She what?”

I nodded for Rodelia to demonstrate, but she hissed. Amada?

It wasn’t actually Amada she’d said, but a raptor-sound meaning me whenever she crooned it. Like she was now.

A-maaa-daaaa. Retreat?

I snarled, raptor-language being as much bestial gesture as vocalization. She flinched, as did everyone else. Because of Veer’s meddling, I understood raptors better than others. My human-ish ears didn’t grasp Rodelia’s full vocal meanings, but I parsed enough. To the troupe, to anybody watching us communicate, it must’ve seemed damned creepy.

Reluctantly, Rodelia opened her jaws …

… and Madam Chien’s ringing voice washed over the arid sands, the tree-tall saguaro, the ground-hugging ocotillo. It was a song from the The Dragon Bride, where the concubine stolen from her native land begged her captor-king for mercy, something Rodelia had heard many times now–

“How dare you!” the real Madam Chien exclaimed.

“She … doesn’t use her tongue?” someone asked. “Her teeth? She just … opens wide?”

“This could make Phoenix,” I said to the ground.

“Phoenix!” Manager Shen murmured. “Could we really book … the Orpheum?”

The troupe’s route coinciding with Veritas‘s towns was why we’d approached them. They hadn’t wanted a raptor-porter, though, nor her exceptionally strong, raptor-talking human. They distrusted traitwoven beasts. Velociraptors especially, them resembling the dragons they so revered. How old are you?, Madam Chien had asked. Sixteen, I’d blurted–my best guess. Madam Chien took Manager Shen aside, and grudgingly, he let us aboard.

She’d gotten me decent clothes. She’d left food out for us last night–raptor-kibble for Rodelia, salted eggs and rice gruel for me. If she gave us away now, I’d just claim Rodelia needed to roam.

Madam Chien kept silent, started fanning herself.

“Imagine a singing raptor,” Manager Shen murmured. “What show offers that?”

Madam Chien’s fan stilled. “You’d give my part away?” Everyone flushed, she being more mother to them than prima donna.

“Never,” I insisted. “Rodes’ll be a … pre-show attraction.”

Rodelia lowered her head, chest rumblings sinking to a low keening.

“We’ll call her the Rapturous Raptor,” Manager Shen decided. “Impressions only.” He turned to me. “Any sound, you say? Birdsong? Firecrackers?”

I nodded, avoiding Madam Chien’s gaze. Skin peeled off my knuckles, trickling blood–I shoved them behind my back. Rodelia would pull us to Phoenix. To Baron Veer. The source of serum, and all my present woes.

~

Without serum, I was getting sicker, and the airship’s floaty motion didn’t help. The Full Autumn Moon was bigger than Europe’s zeppelin-busses. Rodelia was in the parlor, where redwood flooring yielded to windowed viewing-bottoms, staring listlessly at red hills and cacti-dotted mesas passing below.

Her weavings were stable, but she was motion-sick, gloomily watching a mustang herd, tiny with distance, gallop up a dust-tail.

Velociraptors weren’t meant to fly. Even the Baron with all his noxious chemicals hadn’t woven any tolerance for flight into her.

“Veer’s here, Rodes. In Arizona. The one who did this to us.”

Another dust storm below–a raptor pack chasing the mustangs.

Once, velociraptors were turkey-sized, before traitweavers shaped them for work. Other animals had been shaped, too, but raptors were especially amenable to weaving. The practice became outlawed, but crates of woven raptors had already been shipped; some escaped, went wild. Now, Rodelia’s seven-foot cousins haunted these deserts.

“I wouldn’t … make it to Utah.” The files from last night’s raid listed a large Veritas facility there.

Rodelia rumbled. Eh-eh-eh-eh-eh …

I remembered enough of Veer’s laboratory to know I never spoke human words there. I picked up English and Chinese from other humans, but raptor-language was my mother-tongue. I was Veer’s handler. Didn’t talk, but drank serum, unharnessed and harnessed his raptors. Treated wounds. Held them as they keened in my arms. They obeyed my hisses and growls unquestioningly. Veer, though, wove command-words into his test subjects. If he was displeased, he’d utter those phrases; we’d shriek in pain until we complied. I remembered spilling serum because I was sick of it eroding my mind. He’d command-worded me, watched me thrash about before making me lap it off the floor.

But I could talk now. I could use Veer’s command-words.

Could make Rodelia address me.

Did she dream of running in a real raptor pack? Maybe she’d tried telling me, but I couldn’t understand. Maybe I didn’t want to understand, she being all I had.

“We’ll get serum from the Baron,” I promised. “Then–” What came after then? The airship jostled, and my stomach lurched. Finally, Rodelia turned to me, nosed my hair.

Rrrrrrrr-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh.

A-ma-daaa. Retreat …

Grateful, I reached up, grabbed her snout. “It’ll be okay, Rodes.”

I stumbled below-decks. My voice was getting raspier. My eyes darker. I wouldn’t be able to hide this much longer.

It was in the costume room Madam Chien cornered me. “You’ve found what you’ve been looking for all these nights, haven’t you? What’s in Phoenix, Amada?”

I shoved my cracked hands behind my back. “Fame for the troupe. Second chance for Rodes and me.”

Madam Chien sighed. “I was sold into opera, you know. Years I spent, against my will, training in Eastern and Western opera … but I lucked upon traveling countrymen. I didn’t need to get as familiar with an airship’s under-compartments as you and Rodelia. Besides myself, I didn’t steal anything–”

I didn’t twitch, but she nodded. “Even we can tell how sophisticated Rodelia’s weavings are. And … her scars–”

“Look, we just–”

“I don’t care about your past, Amada. I don’t care that you’re stealing my show, so long as my family’s safe. Whatever’s in Phoenix … Oh … your cheek’s bleeding–”

I hissed as she reached for my face. It’d steamed from my clenched teeth, instinctual, vicious. My sharp, sharp teeth.

I snatched a coat off the racks, a wide-brimmed hat, brushed past her.

“I once had a daughter!” she blurted to my back, stopping me short. “This family could be yours … if you’d–Wait!”

I pushed on. The troupe loved Rodelia. She was gentle, loved playing fetch. Me, though. If they ever discovered my true nature …

In the hold, I navigated chests to my loosened board: two vials of serum remaining. Funny, how this almond-scented substance I once despised, I now craved.

I sighed, but it came out, eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh …

~

Serum stabilized me, but it fogged my memory. My earliest remembrance was gripping the bars of a cage. Was I an orphan Veer captured? Someone nobody would miss, so he could practice human traitweaving?

Humans were the exact opposite of raptors–they took to weaving easily; human life-fibers rejected it. Thus, human traitweaving was forbidden.

The Baron must’ve been some genius to manage me: my ability with languages, how I’d learned reading so quickly, my raptor-strength–Veer meant more for me than raptor-handling. The more my mutations accelerated, the more I discovered.

But I didn’t want to see what other scaly presents he’d woven under my skin.

~

First show we tried, Rodelia clawed the sand, a foot from the curtain that might as well have been a canyon the way she’d dug in.

I shoved, but even my traitwoven strength couldn’t budge her. “Come … on … Rodes!”

Retreat!, she hissed. Retreat!

Beyond the curtain, Manager Shen stalled the audience. They’d heard Rodelia’s roars, though, were looking nervously our way.

Manager Shen’s nephew, Ah-Shen, eyed Rodelia’s sickle-claws. “Stage fright.”

“Are you kidding me?” I growled, shoving off Rodelia.

“I’ve been raised by an opera-troupe, Amada.”

I wouldn’t use command-words. I wouldn’t. But if we failed here, we lost everything. I bolted towards the airship floating above the redrock behind us.

“Um, Amada?” Ah-Shen yelled.

“Watch her!” I yelled back.

There was something else I’d been keeping under my loosened board besides serum.

When I returned, Ah-Shen was standing stock-still. Rodelia’s eyes rolled; she flexed human fingers–like gripping that battleax Veer made her wield for her duels.

In those scarred, lab-woven hands, I laid a doll. It was doe-eyed, hair in ringlets, lavender dress dotted with tiny purple flowers. Rodelia froze.

I flushed. “Her name’s … Victoria–”

We’d passed a general store weeks ago. Rodelia stopped before the window, looming over this doll, raptor-eyes gone liquid in a way I’d never seen before. The way she purred at that glass brought me back with some dollars Manager Shen paid me.

I’d been hedging, figuring how to give it to her��but now Rodelia cradled Victoria. Raptor eyes couldn’t cry, but …

Eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh …

She clutched Victoria onstage, opened wide, and Madam Chien’s voice awed the audience.

Ah-Shen and everyone backstage crowded the curtains, but I stumbled off. My skin burned. Whatever Veer intended, I didn’t think my life-fibers were meant to hold a raptor.

From the stage, cheering. Applause.

I cried–my tears were black. What would happen to Rodelia? What of that creature the Baron stole, who was a girl before his experiments?

That day forward, Rodelia carried Victoria everywhere, slept with it cradled close.

~

The Rapturous Raptor was a roaring success.

Manager Shen swaggered onstage, Rodelia following. Someone yelled Spanish that she mimicked perfectly. Chinese prospectors shouted in some dialect, neither Cantonese nor Mandarin. She reflected it back.

Rodelia had to really concentrate for human voices. It was why we couldn’t communicate that way.

Despite being outlawed, human-handed raptors hauled rocks here. In hotels, raptor-bellhops stood ramrod straight. But I’d never heard anyone wanting a raptor who duplicated sound. Maybe Veer wanted raptor-spies, as well as seven-foot axe-wielding soldiers.

He never called her Rodelia. I called her Rodes, but she picked Rodelia. After hearing a child being called Rodelia, she’d started making uk-uk-uk-uk-uk noises, rocking her tail.

Veer called me something else, too, but I didn’t care to remember.

Rodelia’s raptor-name for me … that never changed. That, I remember clearly.

Lessened serum meant my memories were unclouding. If I was sixteenish, how old was Rodelia? An adult in raptor reckoning? If I concentrated, maybe I could …

Thunderous applause startled me back to present.

Rodelia tromped backstage, grabbed Victoria while Madam Chien and other performers passed for their show. Chien looked to me, but I ignored her.

After they exited, Rodelia snarled, using my voice: “Utah.”

I shoved up the sleeve of the coat I wore everywhere, uncovered the beetle-hide puncturing my skin. Not healthy raptor scales, but black, chitin-hard growth. It was worse round my spine. I knew she smelled the fever coursing through me.

“I’ve been taking serum, small sips, but that only affects the surface. My body’s rejecting it, Rodes.”

Onstage, Madam Chien sang the Dragon Bride’s sorrows, being captured from her faraway land, forced to marry a ruthless king. Offstage, Rodelia keened her own sad song.

Amada …

“He needs to pay, Rodes. He–raaaaaaaaa-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh …”

~

By the time we reached Yuma, we were making triple-earnings. The question was asked: could Rodelia’s performance be expanded?

“How about a doctor, Miss Amada?” Manager Shen asked gently. “It would be no trouble for us.”

I hissed, and he looked away.

Madam Chien was oddly silent. “Let them try,” she murmured. Everyone cheered.

Mei-Li the seamstress started a dress. Rodelia had to stand straight for various fabrics Mei-Li threw over her. Rodelia rumbled darkly; Mei-Li paled. I pointed her to Victoria sitting on a chair. The seamstress concocted a lavender affair with violets lining the bodice, a silver wig with purple flowerets like Victoria’s–these Rodelia accepted.

Gum-Loong the painter started painting the flower-set wig; the lavender dress; Rodelia’s regal stance; human hands–but just half her face, jaws open in mid-vocalization.

“I’ll do her eyes last,” he explained. “Something’s missing, though. With her hands.”

I studied the painting. He was right, but I couldn’t place it.

At Flagstaff, Rodelia strode onstage in dress and wig, gobsmacking everyone. But they cheered when she opened her jaws and released the “Four Part Song.” She hunkered offstage, rumbling disapproval. Soon as the dress came off, she cracked her spine, assumed her natural raptor’s crouch.

At Flagstaff, Rodelia strode onstage in dress and wig, gobsmacking everyone.

Manager Shen returned from town with a fancy-looking invitation. “The Orpheum in Phoenix has renovated–they want us to be their inaugural performance!” He squinted at the print. “A baron has requested us! Baron … Vvv-ver–”

“Veer,” I said.

Rodelia growled low.

“You’ve heard of him?” Manager Shen asked.

Every day, my memories sharpened. I remembered Veer watching his sword-wielding raptors duel, scribbling in that notebook he kept in his waistcoat pocket. “Oh, yes. Baron Veer loves a good show.”

~

We remained in Flagstaff to prepare The Dragon Bride–with Madam Chien and Rodelia.

Townspeople gathered amongst the bracken and cacti, watching us rehearse the part where the foreign queen, about to be executed by her captor-king, revealed her true form–the dragon–and, against her kind’s peaceful nature, stormed the court.

When Madam Chien had played the part alone, she’d signified this transformation with a mask, but today Rodelia switched places with her, charging onstage in her lavender dress, her flashing silver hair. She shrieked, shredded her dress. The crowd hooted.

While they applauded, Rodelia stalked to me.

RRRRRRRRRAAaaaaa! Leave Baron!

I removed my hat, bared my fangs. I’d seen my reflection to know I didn’t have eye-whites anymore, just sheens of darkness. “We escaped, but he’s … still … hurting … me.”

Rodelia nuzzled my forehead. Amada. He force. Now we choose.

Because of my decay, I understood her better now than ever before.

But it was too late. I pointed to the suited men among the still clapping crowd. Veer’s men. From this distance, everyone must’ve thought we were chatting about hairstyles. “He knows we’re with the August Court. We run, he’ll attack them.”

Rodelia roared, RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

She streaked across the sand, vanishing through some redrock. In the sudden quiet, I waved, replaced my hat. “BATHROOM BREAK!”

The crowd laughed.

Rodelia would return. She was just shocked; her raptor’s mind couldn’t conceive how human plots worked. But I’d explained it to her. We’d announced ourselves with the Rapturous Raptor. Now that Veer knew we were in Arizona, his associates would ensure we headed to the Orpheum. If we didn’t, they’d slaughter those she’d come to love.

~

I slept far from camp now. The turning worsened at night. Drifting between waking and sleeping, I imagined walking the laboratory’s corridors again–Veer made his subjects duel in booby-trapped mazes–and CLACK–I smelled serum. I ran towards light spilling from an opened door, but through that door I saw … me … human me … in a violet-set dress and silver ringlets, staring back.

I reached out–with no hand, but a scaly, three-clawed raptor’s manus–an old nightmare, something I dreamed often–

Behind me, this sad, sad moaning–UHHHHHHHHHH …

It was me—I was moaning–I was sad–

I jolted awake to Rodelia cradling me. I’d been sipping serum to survive, letting it addle my memories even as they cleared. I’d one vial left–for Phoenix. Rodelia crooned, eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh, raptor-eyes sad. She mewled her raptor-name for me, and as I drifted, I thought I heard in her calling something of wide vistas and the running pack, sun and sky.

Amada … Amada choose retreat …

My clawed hands clenched.

Never.

He had to pay.

~

From Full Autumn Moon‘s view amongst the clouds, Phoenix looked alabaster, enormous factories puffing smoke like carnival fairy floss. Atmospheric balloons floated over flagstone plazas, silver-skinned steam-cars and trains. A rose-winged dirigible bearing laughing passengers passed us, raptors shoveling coal in the engine compartment. We descended below Phoenix’s skyline, approaching a columned building and its landing square.

“The Orpheum,” Manager Shen murmured. “Newly renovated. You’ve recovered just in time, Amada!”

I wore a cream-colored dress Mei-Li made me. My skin was clear, my irises humanly brown again. But the raptor within clawed away. My whole body felt clenched.

I smiled for Manager Shen.

The airship didn’t anchor this time, but landed on the flagstones.

From a ramp, Rodelia descended in a new dress, alongside Madam Chien and everyone else. Rodelia’s sickle-claws click-click-clicked on the flagstones. Behind us, Ah-Shen and other stagehands bore props. I’d made Rodelia leave Victoria, hardening myself to her whines. Her hands twitched; she turned, sniffed, sniffed again, the picture of nervousness in a raptor.

“Wait!”

Queue bouncing, Gum-Loong the painter ran up to hand Rodelia … a lavender fan. The something that was missing. Rodelia flipped it open with dexterous fingers.

At the square’s roped-off edge, men and women in opulent dress applauded. The Baron was nowhere in sight, but he was here. Long as the crowd was around, he’d be careful.

Orpheum staff in crimson jackets ushered us inside. Plush seat-rows unfolded from the stage like layered rose petals, everything reeking of new wood, fresh varnish. They’d spared no expense. Madam Chien smiled, but didn’t look impressed.

I caught Rodelia eyeing me sadly. Since I’d downed my last vial, a curtain dropped between us. My ears had regressed; I couldn’t parse her raptor-nuance so well.

“Rodes. Look.” Reaching behind some boxes, I brought out Victoria. She purred in surprise. I couldn’t keep it away after all. “I’ll handle the Baron. You don’t have to do anything.”

She nuzzled her doll, not hearing me. Her home aboard Full Autumn Moon was assured. They were her family now, would care for her better than I ever could. She’d be safe, once I took care of Veer.

Yesterday, I’d pulled Ah-Shen aside. “In case I’m … busy … you’ll take care of her? See she has Victoria? That she gets to hunt off-ship?”

He’d cocked his head. “Of course. Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s perfect,” I’d replied. “At long last, we’re playing in Phoenix tomorrow.”

~

Baron Veer entered with the audience, surrounded by suited men. He didn’t see me, but, oh, I saw him from the rafters I’d climbed onto. I hissed. Black jacket, pasty face, a big man I could easily shred. He kept glancing to the stage, hungry for his escaped subjects–the ones he didn’t euthanize.

The last of the serum was fading fast. I was remembering the night he gave that order. He’d used his command-words, made me kill my raptors. My raptors! They watched me through their muzzles, not understanding what I was injecting them with. Through tears, I watched their eyes flutter.

There I was, one raptor left, holding that huge needle before Rodelia. She always obeyed me. Always. She … said something … something that broke the spell … my name … my raptor-name …

We escaped that night.

The stage lights dimmed, reminding me of my mission.

I gripped the beam. Rrrrrrrrrrrrr-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh …

All through the audience hushing, the first strains of song, the opening battle scene, I stared at Veer, feeling my body sear away any last dregs of serum. Weeks of turning reasserted themselves.

He squirmed, impatient for Rodelia’s appearance. He wasn’t into opera, didn’t know the story. If he uttered his command-words, I’d freeze, and he was fast with them. I needed to wait until he was completely absorbed. I needed to wait until Rodelia’s entrance.

Intermission, lemonade in sparkling glasses, chatter. Someone announcing the Veritas-sponsored renovations to gentle applause.

Veer renovated the Orpheum?

But the curtains rose again; Madam Chien, as foreign concubine, got dragged out. The king ordered her execution. She ran backstage and Rodelia strode forth–the Dragon Bride. Everyone gasped as Rodelia sang her rage and sorrow, ready for the slaughter. Below me, Baron Veer leaned forward …

He wasn’t looking at her. His head darted round … looking … for me?

His human experiment? The girl who’d lapped serum off the floor, while he took notes? Not just once. I’d been refusing serum for weeks, so he’d made an experiment of it.

Rodelia’s voice crescendoed, lifting Veer’s eyes upward. His eyes widened. With my raptor-hearing, I heard him whisper. “Subject Camille-Zero.”

I leaped down, claws extended, dress billowing like bat wings.

RRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAA!

Rodelia’s soprano voice changed into a raptor’s call. In that split-second of mid-descent, I finally understood Rodelia–really understood her. She sung the song of the pack, hideous to human hearing, but to me … it was about sunsets and sunrises, cool night, hard sand under sickle-claws, tail held taut like a sail, guiding the sprint. It was my name, my true raptor-name she’d been calling me all along.

He forced us. Now we choose.

Do not kill for him, Mother. Not anymore.

I landed amongst screams, audience members leaping up. Onstage, Madam Chien and the others gaped.

Veer was within reach, a meat-bag ready for shearing … but … Mother … Why’d she … ? All this time, it wasn’t Amada she’d been saying …

“Camille-16-alpha–HOLD!”

I froze, collapsed onto one knee. Camille. That was my designation.

“Release the Scyllas!” Veer yelled. “Collect Camille-Zero!”

His men rose, pulling syringes from their jackets.

CLACK.

Somewhere in the Orpheum, a door had opened. There was hissing, the scent of cloying gas … and clanking–metal grating against metal. Something heavy, coming our way.

Veer made his subjects duel in booby-trapped mazes.

Rodelia shredded her dress, vaulted from the stage.

“Viktra-16-alpha–HOLD!” Veer commanded imperiously. Rodelia squalled in mid-leap, crashed onto the carpet. Veer’s men surrounded her quivering form. Retreat, Mother!

“Kill the Viktra!” Veer ordered. “Contain Camille-Zero!”

I remembered.

The Camilles were first, for infiltration. Their weavings were extensive; all died, except one. The Viktras were for combat. Was there a Scylla series, though? I roared, reptilian scales bursting through my cheeks.

People at the edges of the seat-rows gasped.

“My god … what is she?”

“She’s not human!”

They were right. I was no human turned raptor … but a raptor woven to look human.

The Baron was going to kill my daughter. A Viktra-clone, but my daughter nonetheless. Sprawled on the ground, Veer’s men mounting her, Rodelia’s wide eyes found mine. She opened wide, repeating what she’d said that night we’d escaped, the first part in Veer’s voice, the last in raptor: “Camille-16-alpha–free yourself, Mother!”

Lapping serum off the floor, for weeks, had lessened the dosage–I’d understood her that night.

And, as happened that night, I obeyed. I knocked my attackers back, leapt to Rodelia. Speaking was hard; I needed to concentrate: “Vvvvviktra-16-a-alphaaa–ssssssSTAND!”

Forced to comply, Rodelia righted herself, tossing off men, just as two saurian beasts lumbered into the hall. Raptors taller than Rodelia, in breastplates and helms, raptor-sized rifles in human hands, reeking of acrid rot and almond-scented serum.

People flooded the theater’s far sides as they bayed, “UUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHH …”

They were blind, eyes milky white. Their skin, ulcerous, wet. The gas–some serum-vapor–they were unstable, shambling forth unsteadily.

“Scyllas!” the Baron yelled. “Attack!”

Rodelia and I engaged. I landed before Veer, claws held high. Veer’s smug expression faded–he looked for his enforcers, but they were running–finally! He would pay!

A Scylla rammed its rifle stock into Rodelia’s jaw, crumpling her. A bayonet extruded from the other’s barrel.

I could end Veer so easily! But Rodelia … the Scylla raised its bayonet … Rodelia’s words, Now we choose—

Advance, or retreat? Utah, or Phoenix? Serum, or Veer? Veer … or … ? Kill, or … ?

Like the Dragon Bride, I poured my fury into a single call: STOP! The Scyllas froze, white eyes flicking to me.

“Camille-16-alpha!” Veer yelled, “TWO STEPS BACK!” My feet moved, one, two. But I dropped claws of my own volition.

Children, I begged the Scyllas. Don’t kill for him! Their armored heads turned to me, rifles lowering.

The Baron was talking, saying it was over, the Scyllas were deaf to all but his voice, a new traitweaving after my escape–and I didn’t care. I’d listened enough to him, when I should’ve been listening to Rodelia, my clone-daughter. These Scyllas were my daughters, too.

Children!, I pleaded over his words. I understand now. I thought I had to kill him. That killing was the only way for him. For me. I was wrong. You can choose—

Veer stamped his foot. “Camille-Zero, you will listen! Scylla-16-alpha–COLLECT CAMILLE-ZER–”

“Scylla-16-alpha–TURNABOUT!”

Veer blinked. He hadn’t spoken, but his voice …

Rodelia was standing now, jaws open. She’d heard that order many times. The Scyllas faced Veer.

“That’s not me, you fools! Scylla-16-alpha–BELAY PREVIOUS ORDER!”

The Scyllas wickered, confused.

“Scylla-16-alpha,” Rodelia commanded. “ATTACK!”

Despite their blindness, they leveled rifles with alarming accuracy. People surged for the archways, no longer caring how close to the Scyllas they got. The Baron turned, but I grabbed him, plunged claws into his midsection–he screamed. I yanked out his notebook, years of scribbled notes.

His work disintegrated in my fist, pages spilling instead of blood. Fabric tore as he broke away. The Scyllas stalked after him.

Wait! I called, Don’t follow. Please! They ignored me, clanking through the archway he’d disappeared through.

Beyond, I heard Veer shouting, “Help! Velociraptors in the theater–some monster in a dress!” There was gunfire, the Scyllas’ sad moaning.

Rodelia nudged me. Mother?

I didn’t have teeth anymore. Fangs. I had fangs. A tongue that struggled forming human sounds. I couldn’t protect her. Not without my human words. It hurt to breathe. Twice, she’d saved me. I had to save her.

“Vvvvviktra-s-si-sixteeeeeeen-alphaaaa,” I managed. Rodelia cocked her head, confused.

The rest, I said in raptor: Run. Live. Don’t follow me.

“AAAAAAAAA-RAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

She thrashed, shook her head wildly in denial. She moved towards me, but I raked her forearm, drawing blood. She screamed, turned, and was gone. It hurt. Like something ripped from me, vanished forever. I crouched by the stage, claw-hand brushing something:

Not Victoria … the fan. Still carrying her scent.

“Come, Amada.” I smelled Madam Chien. She pulled my arm over her shoulder, dragged me along until we crashed into the screaming night.

~

She took me to some empty house. The August Court wouldn’t leave Phoenix for a while. I wanted to apologize, but I couldn’t talk anymore.

“You poor child,” Madam Chien said, sounding far away. Her words blurred. “Veritas … found Veer’s notebook … He was perfecting the serum off you … It would’ve allowed monstrous weavings–”

I was losing my human ears.

My ability to tell time, too. She brought meat that I turned from.

Sunlight burned me. I crawled in a ragged robe, smeared with melted skin. Madam Chien lit candles I cowered from.

But the flickering glow struck something my ruined eyes remembered. I found my feet. Click-drag, click-drag, click-click. Something rectangular. What was the word … door. In it, a woman in a violet-set dress. Her face wasn’t finished.

“Hello, Amada.” I flinched; it was Gum-Loong. The painter.

“The investigators want an exhibit,” Madam Chien said from behind me. “An illustration of her … augmentations. We never took a daguerreotype of her–”

Eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh … They weren’t bothered by the sounds I made. I touched a claw to the frame.

I reached out–with no hand, but a scaly, three-clawed raptor’s manus–an old nightmare, something I dreamed often–

It was me–my best part. Rodelia, who loved a doll named Victoria. How long was I in Veer’s laboratory, shaped by his chemicals?

The Camilles were first. Their weavings were extensive; all died, except one.

Madam Chien held out a familiar-looking dress, sewn anew, absent of her scent. Madam Chien helped me into it. Gum-Loong prepared his brushes, but I made a sound.

“Here.” Madam Chien pushed the fan into my claws. “We couldn’t find Victoria.”

It took several sessions, what with my weakness. Each time they left the easel, I crawled to the meat they’d brought, and fed.

How long did I writhe on that floor, feeding, shivering?

After each painting session, the image evolved. She was singing. Calling me forth. My raptor-hearing had finally come. Songs of sunlight. Desert sand. Running with the pack. I tossed my robe. Tail raised, I click-click-clicked outside.

So many raptor scents in the night. Enslaved in mines, in hotels, locked in pens. I had many children once. I would have many children again.

But first, my daughter.

I called into the desert, to announce my coming.

RRRRRRRRR–AAAAAAAAAA–EH-EH-EH-EH-EH-EH-EH …

Amada (last name unknown) is currently at large in Arizona. She is wanted by the authorities of Phoenix for the destruction of the Orpheum Opera House, for questioning regarding the now defunct Veritas Elixirs and Tinctures, for the trial of Baron Helmut Veer concerning illegal experiments. Be forewarned, she is 5 feet 2 inches, sixteen years, brown-eyed, and of slight build, but possesses strength and agility most uncanny. She was a raptor-handler for an opera troupe. She speaks and reads many languages, is familiar with airships, and converses with raptors. $500 reward–yield her up.

Andrew K. Hoe is an associate professor of English and speculative fiction author based in Southern California. He is also an assistant editor and narrator for Cast of Wonders. Though he is excited to appear in Mad Scientist Journal, he is actually not a mad scientist–but insists that nobody can be perfect.

Twitter: @andrewk_hoe

Web: andrewkhoe.wordpress.com

Leigh’s professional title is “illustrator,” but that’s just a nice word for “monster-maker,” in this case. More information about them can be found at http://leighlegler.carbonmade.com/.

“Victorian Velociraptor with Violets” is © 2019 Andrew K. Hoe Art accompanying story is © 2019 Leigh Legler

Fiction: Victorian Velociraptor with Violets was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

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Strange Science: Tiny Squid!

Though the discovery was a couple of years ago, we’re still excited to learn about the Idiosepius hallami, a very small squid found by researchers in Australia.

How tiny, you might ask? About the size of a human adult thumbnail. That’s a whole lot smaller than what most people think of when they hear the word “squid”!

You can read more about these tiny squid here!

Strange Science: Tiny Squid! was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

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Thank You to Our Regular Columnists

Today, we’re thanking our regular columnists. If you’ve only experienced Mad Scientist Journal on our website, you may not be familiar with these regular columns, which only appear in the quarterly magazines. But they’ve been strong supporters and contributors to our endeavor all along!

We’ve run the advice column for mad scientists almost for as long as the magazine has been in existence. Our columnists for that were Sean Frost (writing as Dr. Oort) and Torrey Podmajersky (writing as Dr. Synthia). We crowd-sourced the questions for the advice column, so we got all sorts of fun questions for the columnists to answer.

For a while, we also had Kate Elizabeth writing “horrorscopes” for the quarterly. She moved on to focus on other writing projects, but we always loved to see the fun takes she had on traditional horoscopes when applied to mad scientists and the world of the supernatural.

When we retired the horrorscopes column, we brought on a gossip column, written by Lucinda Gunnin (writing as C. Zytal). She created a delightful character that could comment on real world and fictional events, themed appropriately for every season.

Thank you to all of our regular columnists, and also those who wrote questions for the advice columns and inspired some of C. Zytal’s gossip!

Thank You to Our Regular Columnists was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

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Awesome Finds: Aquanauts!

The deep sea is awesome in the original sense of the word: inspiring awe. There’s just so much we DON’T know about such an enormous part of our planet. But in Aquanauts, you get to explore the oceans from the comfort of your own home.

Aquanauts is a board game that’s currently on Kickstarter, and we think it looks super cool. It appears to be a resource management game with research goals that drive it. There are some parts of the game play that are cooperative, but ultimately, it’s a competitive game with only one winner.

The Kickstarter runs until April 10th!

Awesome Finds: Aquanauts! was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

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That Man Behind the Curtain – February 2020

The tummy is not a trap.

We’re almost all done. This is our penultimate look behind the scenes. Here’s a look at the numbers.

The Money Aspect

Amounts in parentheses are losses/expenses.

Web Resources: (-$17.06) Stories: (-$50.00) Art: (-$176.17) Advertising: (-$279.08) Processing Fees: (-$13.91) Donations: $80.71 Online Book Sales: $20.11

Total: (-$336.40) QTD: (-$763.33) YTD: (-$763.33) All Time: (-$46,125.54)

As usual, I try to list costs for art and stories under the month that the stories run on the site rather than when I pay them. (This does not apply to special content for quarterlies, which does not have a specific month associated with it.) Sales are for sales when they take place, not when they’re actually paid out to me. Online book sales reflect the royalties given after the retailer takes their cut. Physical book sales represent gross income, not counting the cost of the physical book. Donations include Patreon, as well as other money sent to us outside of standard sales.

Followers

Below is the social media following we had at the end of February.

Patreon: 30 (-2)

Facebook: 2,224 (+5)

Twitter: 704 (-1)

Tumblr: 366 (+13)

Mailing List: 323 (+7)

Instagram: 226 (+0)

That Man Behind the Curtain – February 2020 was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

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Fiction: Observations and Oversights on the Opportunistic Occupation of Octopuses in the Office

An essay by Camille Delacroix, as provided by Michael M. Jones Art by Justine McGreevy

It all started with one simple question.

“Daphne, why is there an octopus on the ceiling?”

For there was, indeed, an octopus clinging to the ceiling of the renovated warehouse space I shared with my girlfriend, and it appeared to be … replacing a lightbulb. It was a relatively small one, only a few feet across, and sadly, that’s as far as my ability to identify specific species of octopuses goes. And while I’ve gotten used to a lot of weird things ever since I moved in with Daphne Watson–scientist, inventor, accidental cross-dimensional exile–this was as unlikely a phenomenon as any. I wheeled myself into the room, the door helpfully shutting itself behind me with a hiss of pneumatics–another one of Daphne’s never-ending efforts to make our shared space both accessible and automated.

The mad scientist herself practically bounced out of her workshop, stripping off goggles and lab coat and tossing them into a bin just outside her door marked “Decontamination” and came over to give me an enthusiastic hug and kiss in greeting. “Camille, darling!” As always, she was all lush curves, big blue eyes, long blonde hair tucked up into a bun for safety, and you’d never have guessed that she had a frightening disregard for the laws of physics, a so-so relationship with ethics, and had nearly destroyed the universe on our first date.

I returned the greeting but knew better than to let her get distracted from the topic at hand. “Octopus. Ceiling. Explain?”

“Daphne, why is there an octopus on the ceiling?”

To read the rest of this story, check out the Mad Scientist Journal: Winter 2020 collection.

Camille Delacroix is a lifelong native of Puxhill, where she attends Tuesday University as a grad student and TA for their Masters of Arts in Liberal Studies program. A diehard geek and avid cosplayer, she’s highly active in the local fan community when she’s not mainlining caffeine and stressing over schoolwork. Her girlfriend, Daphne Watson, claims to be an “esoteric specialist” from an alternate timeline where airships are still in vogue, and asserts that she possesses advanced knowledge of numerous disciplines, “most of which aren’t even considered legitimate science in your world.” They have a cat named Mr. Farnsworth.

Michael M. Jones lives in southwest Virginia with too many books, just enough cats, and a wife who dies a little inside with each new alliterative title he tests on her. His work has appeared in places like Constellary Tales, F is for Fairy, and Utter Fabrication. He edited Scheherazade’s Facade and Schoolbooks & Sorcery. Daphne Watson and Camille Delacroix first appeared in “Saturday Night Science” (Broadswords and Blasters, Issue 1) and will next appear in the Robot Dinosaurs! anthology. For more, visit him at www.michaelmjones.com

Justine McGreevy is a slowly recovering perfectionist, writer, and artist. She creates realities with the hope of making our own a little brighter. You can see more of her artwork and find links to connect on social media through her website justinemcgreevy.com

“Observations and Oversights on the Opportunistic Occupation of Octopuses in the Office” is © 2019 Michael M. Jones Art accompanying story is © 2019 Justine McGreevy

Fiction: Observations and Oversights on the Opportunistic Occupation of Octopuses in the Office was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

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Strange Science: A Nothing Eating Space?

Physicists have theorized the possibility of what they are calling “bubbles of nothing” that could potentially eat spacetime and destroy our universe.

The good news is that the timeframe of such an occurrence is very likely not in our lifetime, nor that of many generations after us.

With a basis in string theory, the idea that a bubble of nothingness could form is related to the fact that our universe is a “false vacuum”–which means it seems like a vacuum, but it’s not entirely stable. But the universe is “stable enough,” which means that on a timescale of millennia, we’re unlikely to see any change in the stability. However, “If a bubble of nothing spontaneously forms in false-vacuum spacetime, it will grow and eventually swallow the entire universe.” And it’s a pretty big “If”.

You can read more about this here!

Strange Science: A Nothing Eating Space? was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

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A Thank You to Our Artists, Part 2

Last week, we thanked several of our artists who have helped make MSJ so awesome! This week, we are thanking several more!

We met Errow and America at the same time, when they were cosplaying Cecil and Carlos from Welcome to Nightvale at GeekGirlCon. We told them we loved their costumes, and they gave us their card. When we found out they were artists, we contacted them to see if they would like to do some commissioned artwork for us, and they agreed! They’ve been producing covers and interior artwork for us ever since! Check out Errow’s portfolio here and America’s here!

Scarlett O’Hairdye is a Seattle-based burlesque performer who we met through that art form. We found out she was also an artist, and we brought her on board to make art for us as well! She’s done some of our strangest pieces, when there was no one else we could think to give it to other than her! You can find more about her here!

Finally, Ariel Alian Wilson is someone who Jeremy has known since she was a toddler, who has also developed into a talented artist in the intervening years between then and now. She’s the artist behind one of our most popular MSJ covers, “Scientist Cat“. You can find more of her work here!

A Thank You to Our Artists, Part 2 was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

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Review of Chilling Effect

Chilling Effect (Harper Voyager, 2019) by Valerie Valdez is a fast-paced space adventure with twists and turns aplenty. With amazing characterization and witty dialogue, it’s the sort of book you’ll only put down if you absolutely have to.

The book is centered on Captain Eva Innocente, who learns her sister has been kidnapped by a sinister organization that wants Eva to run errands for them if she ever wants to see her sister again. Eva’s used to doing shady jobs as a smuggler, but some of the operations she’s asked to do go far beyond that. Trying to keep her goals a secret from her crew is a challenge, especially as she finds herself more and more attracted to her engineer. And then there are the psychic cats.

While the above may sound like a lot to fit into a novel, Valdez manages to squeeze all that and then some into Chilling Effect. Despite the plethora of weird events and plot points, it all sticks together brilliantly. The book will appeal to fans of Firefly and quirky humor in the vein of Cat Valente’s Space Opera. So check it out!

Review of Chilling Effect was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

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More Magical Tales

If you enjoyed Monday’s story about magic and roller derby, check out a few other stories we’ve published related to magic in the context of mad science!

“Mrs. Hobgobble’s Grade 5 Troll Homework: Tooth Fairy Experiments” by Sarina Dorie (experimentation on a magical creature) (available in MSJ Spring 2017)

“Weaselbearer v. Del Toro” by K. G. Jewell (rivalries between magicians) (available in MSJ Spring 2015)

“The Beginning Botanist’s Guide to Lair Defense” by John A. McColley (magical plants to keep a lair safe) (available in MSJ Autumn 2013)

  More Magical Tales was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

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Fiction: The 2019 Magiyatogorsk Champions League Scrapbook: Selected Excerpts

An essay by Ekaterina Serafimevna Poponova, as provided by Blake Jessop Art by America Jones

Week 3: Vĕdma Magiyatogorsk VS Schwarzwald Werwölfe

“Cut inside her, Ilona!” I scream, and no one listens. My teammate soars around the oval track in a flat arc, visible only from the waist up in the giant clay mortar that all Russian witches use to fly. Her coarse witch’s cloak billows like a sail before the wind as she leans into the turn. I glance up at the scoreboard. Down by fifteen.

Ilona is a great witch, but she isn’t really built for speed. If I were in charge, she’d be a blocker, not the pivot. I would be the pivot.

Ilona flies her mortar with grim determination, trying to find a way past the howling pack of German werewolves. Schwarzwald Werwölfe has the most disciplined blockers in the entire Champions League, and there’s no way they’re going to let Ilona slip past. The rules of the sport I have devoted my life to are simple; if my scorer circles the track more often than yours, I win. You use your blockers to try to stop me, and my pivot calls the plays. Add every style of magic on Earth to the cauldron, however, and the recipe gets complicated.

The Germans lope around the huge oval with the confidence of supreme hunters. The giant wolves shift amongst each other to stop the rest of my coven from breaking through. The traditional clay mortar is fast, but about as aerodynamic as a giant tea-cup. Most of the rest of Russian magic involves curses and bad luck, so Ilona is out of options.

“We’re never getting off the bench, “I say, slumping back as the Germans finish another lap in the lead. Ivan Maximov, our coach, is stretching the seams of his expensive American suit and screaming at the referee for failing to punish some penalty that exists only in his mind.

“You never know, Katya,” Anton says. My brother is an incurable optimist, and he’s had to be. He is the first man to ever earn promotion to Magiyatogorsk’s senior team. People look at him the way they look at boys who prefer dance class to ice hockey. No one likes to see a man doing women’s work, and in Russia, magic has always been a definitively female profession.

Can she not see how her scorn harms other women in her profession, how it harms me? We should be supporting each other, holding each other, as closely as possible.

To read the rest of this story, check out the Mad Scientist Journal: Winter 2020 collection.

Ekaterina Serafimevna Poponova (b. July, 1990) is a Russian witch who plays pivot for the Vĕdma Magiyatogorsk professional wizarding team. She is the elder sister of 2019 MCL rookie of the year Anton Poponov, and a finalist for the Marie Laveau coach of the year award. Known for her crafty and innovative style of play, Poponova is sponsored by Adidas, the Red Army, and Uncle Vlado’s Top Notch Pierogis.

Blake Jessop (b. September, 1980) is a Canadian author of science fiction, fantasy and horror stories with a master’s degree in creative writing from the University of Adelaide. He has covered the International Sport Magic circuit as a journalist for many years, and you can keep up with all of the latest inside scoops on Twitter @everydayjisei.

America is an illustrator and comic artist with a passion for neon colors and queer culture. Catch them being antisocial on social media @thehauntedboy.

“The 2019 Magiyatogorsk Champions League Scrapbook: Selected Excerpts” is © 2019 Blake Jessop Art accompanying story is © 2019 America Jones

Fiction: The 2019 Magiyatogorsk Champions League Scrapbook: Selected Excerpts was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

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Strange Science: Earth's New Tiny Moon

You won’t see it if you look up into the sky, but the Earth currently has a bonus moon.

The second moon is considerably smaller than our normal moon, only about the size of a compact car. It’s probably an asteroid, though it could be a chunk that was knocked off the normal moon, or it could be space debris of a non-natural sort, like a piece of a rocket. Whatever it is, it’s been in orbit around the Earth for a short while, and it will eventually no longer be in orbit. But for right now, we’ve got two moons!

You can read more about the tiny moon here!

Strange Science: Earth’s New Tiny Moon was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

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Resources for Teaching Science

Whether you’re a science teacher, a parent, or someone who enjoy teaching kids about science in an informal setting, the University of California Berkeley Understanding Science site has you covered. There, you’ll find resources for teaching science regardless of grade or age level, from Kindergarten to undergraduate levels, and even resources for teaching other educators.

Parts of this site might also be a valuable resource if you just want to teach yourself the basics of a scientific concept for writing or other purposes!

Resources for Teaching Science was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal

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Awesome Finds: Glow

If you like comics by diverse creators with a cool real-world basis to a fantasy world, you might want to check out the Kickstarter for Glow.

“Glow takes place in a world where magic catalyzed both industrial revolution and nuclear holocaust. Half a millennia ago, an ancient and powerful empire known as Nymera developed a means to channel and store magical energy into a sticky blue substance known as anima, storing them into massive Towers across the world.”

The Kickstarter seeks to fund the fourth issue of this comic, but all of the previous issues are available physically or digitally as well.

Awesome Finds: Glow was originally published on Mad Scientist Journal