Apex Magazine Issue 3

Apex Magazine Issue 3

September 2009

Keffy R.M. Kehrli Ekaterina Sedia Matthew Kressel

Apex Publications

Advertising at the End of the World Copyright © 2009 by Keffy R.M. Kehrli

Fungal Gardens Copyright © 2009 by Ekaterina Sedia

The Girl in the Basement Copyright © 2009 by Matthew Kressel (Originally appeared in the anthology Hatter Bones edited by Paul Jessup)

Interview with Elizabeth Engstrom Copyright © 2009 by Deb Taber

When Science Fiction Meets Horror in World Building Copyright 2009 by Monica Valentinelli

Publisher/Editor-in-Chief—Jason Sizemore

Cover art by Lukas Hahn

Senior Editor—Gill Ainsworth

Graphic Designer—Justin Stewart

ISSN: 2157-1406

Apex Publications

PO Box 24323

Lexington, KY 40524

Contents

Advertising at the End of the World

Fungal Gardens

The Girl in the Basement

When Science Fiction Meets Horror in World Building

Interview with Elizabeth Engstrom

Pimp My Airship Ad

Advertising at the End of the World

Keffy R.M. Kehrli

Keffy R.M. Kehrli lives in western Washington and is therefore typically disoriented by non-rainy days. His work has previously appeared in Sybil’s Garage and will be appearing in Talebones. He attended Clarion in 2008 and can be found online at www.keffy.com.

Five years after her husband died, two years after she moved to a cabin in Montana, and six months after the world ended, Marie opened her curtains to discover her front garden overrun with roving, stumbling advertisements. Marie hadn’t seen one since she’d sold her condo and moved out to her isolated cabin. She shuddered.

There were at least twenty of the ads, and for all it seemed they were doing their damndest to step lightly, her red and yellow tulips were completely trampled. Marie had stubbornly continued to cultivate those flowers despite the certainty that she ought to be using the gardening space, and the captured rainwater, to grow food. Not that it mattered what she’d been growing there. It was all mud now.

The ad nearest her window looked quite a bit like a tall, lanky teenager. It moved like one as well, and might have fooled her except that its forehead was stuck in price scrolling mode. Faintly glowing red letters crawled across its forehead from right to left.

TOILET PAPER…2 FOR 1 SALE…RECYCLED….

Marie could only recognize the daffodil bed by memory. She snapped the curtains shut.

She wrapped a floral print terrycloth robe around herself and hustled from her sparsely furnished bedroom into the kitchen. She was relieved to see the fences she’d put up to keep the deer out of her vegetable garden, while never quite successful, had at least managed to keep her vegetables safe from the ads.

That, of course, would not bring back her flowers.

She glowered at the ads through her kitchen window and filled a glass from the pitcher of well water she kept by the sink. She fumbled open the Tuesday box on her medication canister. Like most mornings, she was thankful that she had filled her prescriptions prior to the end; otherwise she would have none by now.

She would have to go to the garden, and although the advertisements were designed to be perfectly harmless, Marie found she was frightened by the way they lurched over the ground. She suspected this was due to the uncomfortable way their silent progress reminded her of zombie films.

Robert would have been fascinated. A year or so before his death, an advertisement had come up to their door. In those days, the ads had acted more like people than those that now plagued her gardens, and it had stood obediently on the front step until they’d opened the door.

Marie had argued that it was better to leave the door shut, because if an advertisement left without delivering its pitch, it would learn not to come back to the house. The way she figured it, and the way several of her favorite independent video bloggers figured it, listening to the ads was like feeding a stray cat.

Robert did not seem to be overly concerned that they would never get rid of the ads. Don’t be ridiculous, he said. They’ll last maybe another few years at the most, and then the companies will all move onto something that costs less. Right now, they’re cheaper than sending employees door-to-door. He opened the door, despite Marie’s protestations.

Hello, the advertisement said, hands clasped before it. I was wondering if you had a few moments to talk about your retirement?

Marie just shook her head and turned back into the house. She busied herself with embroidery, although she still kept an eye on Robert to be sure he wasn’t buying anything. No matter how clever her Robert thought the ads were, she did not want to encourage the companies to make more of them.

After a few minutes of animated conversation, the ad left and Robert came into the dining room. He asked, Have you ever wondered how sentient they are?

Marie shook her head. She didn’t like the ads, and the best emotion she could muster toward them was similar to the way she felt about mosquitoes. Other people thought they served a purpose; she didn’t, and it was not worth the argument.

It became apparent that Robert was actually waiting for her answer, and he sat down heavily in one of the other dining room chairs. Marie finished a particularly difficult stitch. They aren’t. They just recognize patterns.

Yes, but so do we, Robert said. He put both hands on the table and sat up straighter. How close are they to sentience? They’re so much more sophisticated than a recorded ad. They’re art.