Published in Ascent
SHE HAD NOT WANTED TO GO to Ho Chi Minh City–or anywhere else with Roland. Even on the plane, on the way down, Gayle clung to this as if it absolved her in advance, though it was no secret. He was good at indulging her. Her grief, her anger, her unproductive moods. It was what she’d feared, marrying a man so much older; even her father had never coddled her. It seemed Roland never tired of saving her from herself, then expected credit.
IT HAS CURED ME of my irrational terror of helicopters, that is one thing I can say. Now all my nightmares take place in airports, racing down endless corridors for flights I’ve missed. Heathrow, D’Orly, JFK. He only trusts a few. I wait as he waits, board as he boards, thrill to the same in-flight film.
Published in the Winter 2000 Issue of Glimmer Train
HE CAME TO HER because his mother was going through some hard times moneywise. Of course it was not money really; there was a man who’d almost married her, a lost job, a car stolen from their parking lot. The schools, the neighborhood, even the weather seemed to play into the decision. Milwaukee was a city with no jobs, Yvonne said, and cold in winter, ice reaching into the gray lake. Maybe it was time to try Chicago (Miss Fisk didn’t say it was the same lake, the same cold, the same city finally). Yvonne called her night after night, sometimes swearing bitterly, sometimes crying, and Miss Fisk could not say no.
for John Wideman
GETS DARK, CREST UNPLUGS HIS CHAIR and heads outside. Been charging all day, both him and Brother Sony. Got to, you know? It’s Wednesday, and everyone comes around for Voyager. Captain Janeway and shit. Got that voice like she always got a cold.
Background
SOFTWAR is the battlefield of the future, the military capability to remotely engage the enemy without risking soldiers’ lives. In SOFTWAR, along with smart tanks and aircraft and ordnance, virtual infantry outfitted with gloves and headsets and body monitors control their robot drones thousands of miles away. The drones may be destroyed, yet, like a crazy video game, the soldiers never die. Continue reading
The Works of Stewart O'Nan 