Forever Magazine Issue 93 by Suzanne Palmer & Ian R. MacLeod & Nadia Afifi

Author:Suzanne Palmer & Ian R. MacLeod & Nadia Afifi [Palmer, Suzanne & MacLeod, Ian R. & Afifi, Nadia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: science fiction, Science Fiction - Short Stories, science fiction magazine, short fiction
Publisher: Wyrm Publishing
Published: 2022-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

2: The Butterberry Seed

The morning bustle of the souk was extraordinary. So much life! So much noise! Hanging ducks, geelies and chickens, some still flutteringly alive, others aromatically, deliciously dead. Technicolor pots of spices. Iced cakes far too good to be real. Great tanks filled with live fish and ice-hydra, followed by others which frothed with creatures surely meant to be consumed by digestive systems very different to her own.

She was borne along through the maze on tides of memory and forgetfulness, and by a growling hunger in her gut. Here were fruits like spiky puffballs, filled with a yellowish, custard-like heart which stank appallingly, but had an oddly addictive taste. What were they called? Like so many other things, the name simply wouldn’t come, but, fingering the smooth, warm seed of her second bead which had led her here, the memory artist simply felt so at home. So much more herself. Even her hunger was enjoyable, now she was surrounded by many ways of satisfying it. Then, inevitably, her thoughts returned to her calling. Surely she’d already amassed enough impressions during this brief foray to begin, at least in sketch form, another work? Streetfood . . . ? A Market . . . ? The idea might need compression and direction, but at least she wasn’t vegetating in her workshop. She could even just about tolerate this annoying virtual kid.

Why don’t you treat yourself to some of these lovely crickets, lady? Deep fried and dipped in honey—sweeter than a first kiss. Or, look just over there, those frothing flagons of spiced beer

“Just shut up will you! I’m more than capable of making up my own mind.”

The stallholders were just as bad. Hands grabbed at her robes and voices at her thoughts. Setti . . . ! Lady . . . ! Human . . . ! The freshest! The oldest! The tastiest! The best! But it was Kari that they most often called after her. Not that any of them could really imagine she was their mother, but, and clutching her staff and belligerently limping in her hooded cloak, even the aliens could tell that she was old. She shouldered her way on. Now, and although she hadn’t consciously willed it, the prices of all these goods fluttered like alien insects in virtual neon among the stalls, and she saw that they were all unbelievably high.

“Is this some trick of yours, kid?” she shouted as the kid-thing scampered beside her, wicker baskets and stray chickens flickering though its form. “I wasn’t born yesterday, you know! What they’re charging for everything here is ridiculous.”

If you really think I can organize something like this, lady, you’re even madder than you look. But I can bargain for you. Knock things down. Get you a nice good deal.

The kid was persistent; she’d grant it that. But any deal here would be a bad one. “This—it’s like everything’s had three extra noughts added since I last came here.”

Which was plainly ridiculous, but also rather disturbing.

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