The Static Bloom
## The Static Bloom The dust tasted like old pennies and regret. Captain Eva Rostova spat, the grit clinging to her tongue even after a wash of recycled water. Outside the viewport, Xylos IV hung like a bruised plum—purple canyons…
Science Fiction
Scientific, Technological life and Cyberpunk
Read MoreThe Static Bloom
The Bloom Echo
## The Bloom Echo The chipped ceramic mug warmed Leo’s hands, the synth-coffee doing little for the chill that clung to him. Outside the observation dome, the *Artemis VI* shuddered. Not violently, but a low thrum that vibrated through bone.…
The Static Bloom
## The Static Bloom The air tasted like ozone and old pennies. Not sharp, metallic, but *layered* – a taste that clung to the back of your throat. I adjusted the regulator on my breather mask, the hiss a small…
The Static Bloom
## The Static Bloom The dust tasted like old pennies and regret. Kaelen spat, the grit clinging to his tongue. Below, the turquoise swirl of Xylos pulsed, a living ocean contained within a geodesic skin. Not *real* ocean, not anymore.…
The Pollen Memory
## The Pollen Memory The rust-colored dust tasted like regret. Old man Hemlock swore it held the flavor of every failed harvest, every lost face in Respite. I didn’t taste faces, just grit on my tongue and the metallic tang…
Echo Bloom
## Echo Bloom The grit tasted like static. Kai blinked, trying to force focus, but the starmapper interface still fractured across his vision. Each shard pulsed with false data – system habitability reports blurring into nebulae, planetary assessments dissolving like…
Echo Bloom
## Echo Bloom The air tasted of static and regret. Elder traced a finger across the hull of the *Dust Moth*, its metal cool even through his worn gloves. Outside, the nebula bled purple and bruised orange, a cosmic bruise…
The Echo Bloom
## The Echo Bloom The dust tasted like static. Eira spat, the grit clinging to the back of her throat even after she rinsed with recycled water. Kepler-186f wasn’t beautiful, not in the conventional sense. It *glowed*, sure. A sickly,…
The Static Bloom
## The Static Bloom The air tasted like wet metal and regret. Rain, perpetually silver under the bruised sky of Kyros XIV, slicked the polished obsidian walkways. I adjusted the thermal regulator on my worn jacket, the gesture automatic after…
The Bloom Weaver
## The Bloom Weaver Dust motes danced in the shaft of sunlight slicing through the grimy window. Old Man Tiber, they called him, though he couldn’t have been more than sixty, lived in the husk of what used to be…
The Static Bloom
## The Static Bloom The salt spray stung Elara’s face. Not actual salt, not anymore. Metallic tang, like old blood and static electricity. She braced against the rail of the *Argonaut*, watching the bloom unfold. It wasn’t a color she…
The Static Bloom
## The Static Bloom The salt spray tasted like iron, clung to Maya’s eyelashes. Three sunrises bled into one another on the horizon – a bruised violet, an angry ochre, and the dull ruby of K’tharr. She hadn’t slept properly…
Hollow Bloom
## Hollow Bloom The dust tasted like static. Old metal, older regret. Jessa ran a gloved hand along the hull of the *Artemis*, the chipped paint flaking off like dead skin. The ship wasn’t derelict, not exactly. More… asleep. Decades…
The Static Bloom
## The Static Bloom The dust tasted like old pennies and regret. Dr. Aris Thorne swiped a gloved hand across the viewport, blurring the already hazy ochre landscape. Below, the geodesic domes of Lunar Base Seven shimmered under a weak…
Echo Bloom
## Echo Bloom The rain tasted like static. Not unpleasant, precisely, but leaving a metallic bloom on the tongue. Old Man Tiber, perched on the rusted hull of a freighter salvaged from before the Lift, spat a brown fleck into…