Poker Face

by Edd

So there I am, holding four to a flush and confident as hell. The werewolf on my left has the best tell in the world; his tail droops when he’s got nothing. The vampire across from me has a mirror behind and to one side of him so I can see every hand. And the mummy on my right is too stupid to live; barely intelligent enough to unlive, if you ask me.

I bet twenty guldens, Dogboy folds, the Count matches my bet then throws in a blood-red jewel, and the mummy slowly topples forward into its plate of nachos. “I take it you’re folding,” I say, and push all my winnings into the pot. To the Count: “I’ll see your Heart of Mongombo.” Then I pull the deed out of my inner pocket. “And raise you Castle von Frankenstein.” I unfold the document and set it reverently in the center of the table.

The inn goes quiet. The squeak of the golem’s rag on already clean glasses stops, and a succubus clutches my right shoulder. They know.

They know there’s only one thing the Count has that’s worth anything to me. His gaze finds mine, and I know he’s trying to exert his vampiric influence, to find out what I’ve got or to force me to fold. Nothing doing; I’m beyond his power.

Then, slowly, he extends a hand toward a shadowed corner without removing his attention from me. A woman glides across the room and enters the circle of his arm. Leaning on him, she too looks across at me in mute challenge. Her all too solid reflection blocks my view of the Count’s cards.

Good, I think. He’s not made her entirely his.

I deal him two cards, and take one for my own hand. I barely glance at them before placing them face down on the table.

He studies the pasteboards. “Pass,” he says.

I have nothing more to bet. He could have had the pot for a gulden, but I know his pride.

He puts the cards down. “Full house,” says his ensorcelled ‘wife’. “Aces over eights.” She reaches for the pot.
“Royal flush,” I say, tipping the cards over.

The werewolf snorts, and everyone in the inn – those that breathe, anyway – exhales at once. I stand, and take my wife’s still-outstretched hand. I pull her to me, pick up the deed to my castle, and shamble to the door.

I fear no retribution. Fear was mislaid when I was made.

Petri-Dish Pink

by SaraG

They ordered their girls pink and their boys blue. Purple and green were also available, but the elderly parents who bought artificial children preferred conservative colors. Human skin tones were illegal, obviously. It would have been distressing to have artificial children grow up to infiltrate Human society.

#

When Mary was eleven, she caught site of another pink head spying her from the neighbour’s house. That night, Mary crept out of bed and threw stones at the other girl’s window until she came down.

“What’s your name?”

“Mary, yours?”

“Mary.”

The girls laughed.

“I’m bored, Mary,” said Mary.

“Do you want to swap?,” replied Mary.

They switched pyjamas and swapped houses. Mary loved her new room.

In the morning, her new mother came to kiss her good morning. Her mother didn’t notice the change.

#

They wanted their girls pretty and their boys smart but sending them to school was out of the question. The younger adults weren’t prepared to support the artificial baby-boom so the Mary and Peter models stayed at home and played on the computer.

#

Mary enjoyed being a different Mary for a while, but staying at home all the time wasn’t much fun. It was just as boring to be Next Door Mary as it had been to be the previous Mary.

This time, she wouldn’t stay in the same neighbourhood. She searched the Internt for other Marys in her city, but they all seemed to lead the same boring lives.

Then, she found out about China. Her parents were concerned about China, they said, because artificial children where put to work there. They also said that Chinese people called their Marys Yings. Mary had never worked and she had never been called Ying. It sounded fun, so she got on the computer.

“Who wants to swap?” she asked the Chinese Yings.