Asimov's Science Fiction - June 2014 Read Online Free PDF

She fell into the storm, alone but for her ghosts, and was gone.
    Helise caught up with her just as she was about to board the shuttle.
    "Cjoi!" she called out, reaching her, pulling her into an embrace. "I'm so sorry about Ryon," she said. Cjoi just nodded. "I'm sure he meant no harm."
    Helise let her go. "I'm not ever going to see you again," she said.
    "No, I don't think so."
    "You'll take care of yourself?"
    "I'll do my best."
    Helise nodded. "Well, then," she said. "I'm glad I got to see you, one more time, anyhow, my
kinni-inhass."
    "Me too," Cjoi said. She nodded, then, because she didn't know what else either of them could possibly say, turned and stepped through the airlock into her shuttle, and did not look back.
    It would be a few hours out to the shuttle station, then two more short hops to where she'd parked her sphere, ready and waiting, for her and her alone. She felt free, unburdened, master of her own destiny.
----

THERE WAS NO SOUND OF THUNDER
    David Erik Nelson | 11028 words

    David Erik Nelson lives in Ann Arbor, Michigan, with his lovely wife, tolerable children, and aging poodle. In addition to writing fiction about time travel, sex robots, haunted dogs, and carnivorous lights, he also writes non-fiction about hogs, guns, cyborg cockroaches, and Miss America. His first story featuring Taylor and the government-subsidized time portal, "The New Guys Always Work Overtime," appeared in our February 2013 issue. That story is now available in several ebook formats and as a free podcast at
www.davideriknelson.com/NewGuys.

    The New Guy was chipper and upbeat in his khakis and button-down. He was working so hard to
not
glance at my boobs—not even a little—that he had sort of a goofy full-on intensity, like he was trying to pick a staring contest with me. He didn't look like he belonged in the People's Cooperative Bookshop at all, and certainly not in our fake after-hours "University of Nebraska Vegans for a More Ethical Tomorrow" meeting. We spent twenty very awkward minutes faking enthusiasm for Earth Day 1995—
It'll be the 25th anniversary!
—before Rob-o finally showed up, laughed, and explained that he'd invited the guy to join our anarchist black bloc.
    "Hi!" the new guy said in that false, bright way late-night infomercial guys have, "Your pal Rob-o tells me that
'Blowing shit up is your business model.'
Well, you guys are in luck, because my name's Taylor, and I'm a narc!"
    Everyone laughed, including Rob-o, who was waving his hands and saying, "He's for real! He's for real! This dude is with the government."
    The new guy nodded and "yupped!" so eagerly that it set us off again. Then I saw Buffalo Bill slouch down in his seat; he was laughing, but his eyes were cold. I knew to watch his right hand as it crept down toward his unlaced Doc Martens. Buffalo Bill carried a little tube zip gun there. He'd made it using instructions from this old improvised munitions manual we found in an Army surplus store in Omaha. He'd used a length of steel pipe for the barrel; no rifling meant no bullet could be traced to it.
    I shushed everyone. "Guys, guys, c'mon; I wanna hear what Taylor the narc's got to say."
    "Thanks!" he chirped.
    "So are you a narcotics-narc or a fed-narc or what?" I tried to keep it flirty and light. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Buffalo Bill's hand had stopped creeping, but his face was still stonily impassive. He was tense.
    Taylor the narc smiled even broader and just bored into me with his eyes. "I'm with the Department of Agriculture."
    Buffalo Bill barked a laugh and relaxed. "That's no narc!" he scoffed.
    Taylor shrugged. "Oh-
kay,"
he admitted, "I'm more of a 'fed' than a 'narc'—but Robo thought narc was funnier. If I catch any of you guys adulterating meat or whatever, I'm gonna narc you crapless. For real. I will narc that shit."
    Everyone laughed, half because he was funny, and half because we were relieved.
    "Anywho," Taylor said, "The big picture is that I've got a