Fear is not enough to hide this new torture.

Hansel and Gretel had always been good with computers, since they could barely talk, and now, at twelve, they ruled some of the dirtiest chambers of the dark web.

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Susan doesn’t want to be part of the problem. After all, those cheap AI Assistants are the ones preventing her from providing for her children, but does she really have a choice? She’s got a full-time job and has to work as a freelance content creator during the weekends to pay the bills. It won’t be too long before an AI will steal her clients as well.

If you can’t beat them, join them.

To me, the slow creeping of entropy toward the universe’s heat death is fast and continuous—comfortable, almost, as I am cold and heat disturbs me. To you, it’s just time. But, you see, time has no meaning from my perspective. Time sits in the realm of the living, and I sit just outside, dipping my toes in it at times.

“What would they do with it, rub it on their gums?”

By the time I woke up, fire had swallowed the front door and my bedroom was hot enough to boil my goldfish in his bowl.

Mr Cronk finally sat on a bed—not his bed—a blanket over his shoulders, a steaming cup of tea in his hands. Jennifer looked at him trying to restore her breathing, and when she went to check the time on her fob watch, she noticed she was still shaking.

The poet knew hard times would come as soon as winter extended his embrace on that longitude, but as imaginative as he was, humanity always managed to surprise him, for better or worse.

They call me V at school, but even if it hurts, I can’t remember what V stands for.

The Gravestone laid tired on its hollow bed. A merciless sun was rising after another Halloween, and Père Lachaise Cemetery was slowly turning into a tourist attraction once more, leaving behind a night of irresponsible daring.