Jeremy sez, "I've posted January's story to Futurismic, called 'Consensus Building.' This is another entry from Tom Doyle (author of September's 'Art's Appreciation'. It's a mean-spirited story about naked ambition, greed and the fungibility of computer-assisted memory. We've also re-opened Futurismic for fiction submissions. We've increased our permissible word limit to 15,000 and we're going to stay open until we get a year's worth of stories. Our guidelines are here and our web form for submitting is here."
Futurismic's publishing some amazing science fiction and this story doesn't disappoint. It's a great 10 minute read, perfect for the Web.
As always, she examined herself in the mirror, searching for vulnerability. She was rewarded by the usual view: an attractively fit, Slavic cheek-boned thirty-something who could still pass for twenty-something.
"I could lose some weight," she thought. But no, she hadn't really thought that. It was a chip idea. She consciously interfaced with the AI to avoid further confusion. "What the fuck are you talking about? I look great."
"You could lose a few pounds." The voice was a more clinical version of her own. "And your skin could do with some work, too. I can assist."
"No, thank you. Resume normal." She concentrated on getting ready for work, but the ritual had been tainted. Despite herself, she felt larger, flabbier, distinctly less attractive. To compensate, she deliberately dressed sexier than her usual businesslike attire, with shorter skirt and flashier blouse, and forced her hair to have a good day. She refused to submit to moods as a matter of policy.
Another thought tugged at her mind. "You could really use a new outfit." The tone was that of an enthused continental fashion designer.
(Thanks, Jeremy!)
