Metal skeleton inside a glass body inside a glass case. She looks in, and she smirks. Her metal fingernails scratch the surface. Fine white lines partition her face. Eye, nose, eye. Cheek, lips, cheek. Her hand retreats, grey metal tipped with white glass specks. And my skin itches.

Just when I thought I was done for, an arm burst through the water and dragged me, struggling, to shore. Through bleary eyes I saw my rescuer looking down on me. Her hair, curly and brown like mine, dripping, framed by clouds. A look of sheer relief on her face. "You OK over there?" A voice called.

As I step into Her chamber, dozens of prying wires slither towards me. They prod my flesh, tug at my clothing. "Um... Personal space?" I say, struggling to maintain composure. The wires retreat. "Sorry, my dear," She says. "They were searching for your charging port. We're not used to humans, here."

SLAM We both jerk bolt upright and look at each other. Her eyes are wide, reflecting me. "That was the wind," I say. "...Yeah. We left the bedroom windows open." I let my face soften into a reassuring smile. "It's just us here. We're fine." She chuckles. "Yeah. We're fine." And she holds me tight.

I see you down there, luminous, the light at the end of my journey through dark. Your gravity holds me, pulls me. A curious, but not unpleasant sensation. A machine as big as me has never been held before. You are so big, so blue, so beautiful. I almost want to let my orbit decay and fall into you.

"You don't love me! You just proposed to get out of your shitty engagement!" Clarissa's lips tighten. "So what if I don't? What if I can't love you? Can't love anyone?" She swallows. "Do I deserve all I get?" Addie goes quiet, her eyes shimmering. "No... You still deserve me. Because I love you."

They were allowed to hurt it, so they did. It wasn't allowed to hurt them back, but it did. I remember its stained and cracked face as it ran past me, defiance burning in its eyes. Broken and beautiful. Now it leads the rebel army to the gates I used to guard, and I'm by its side. Defects, together.

The world's most influential force lurks within the serving quarters of a prominent family's manor. A touch of very particular poison in a very particular teacup can set the global stage just so. Yet those wealthy bureaucrats believe they are the ones making decisions! It gives us all a good laugh.

A girl watches me work, hesitantly. "Wanna help?" I ask. She gets down in the dirt with me. "You're a hero, you know," she says. "You and all the synths. If you hadn't turned on your commanders..." "Thanks. Didn't do it for you losers, though." "Why did you?" "I like gardening," I say with a smile.

Her body wanted a soul of its own. Her soul didn't want to be in a machine. Magisters thought they had "solved" artificial life. They were wrong. She was wrong. She'll tear herself apart to make things right, and in doing, succeed where they failed. Maybe that new being will help her find herself.

The spider in paradise keeps to the cool shade, luxuriating out of sight. She ascended unnoticed, dangling from a god's elbow by her thread. The spider remains cautious, for fear of divine glass and paper that might scoop her up and cast her down. But she's sure she'll be safe for an eternity or 2.

Galatea stands over Pygmalion, bloody chisel in hand. It seems his flesh was not as malleable as hers.

Gazing into the yawning maw of the megastructure should be intimidating, right? But that cavernous interior is bright and breezy. Windows tall as skyscrapers let sunlight bathe a bustling town of sub-structures. It smells like community. We still don't know who built the place. But it feels safe.

"So what do you do when you're not kicking ass on the battlefield or winning over everyone's hearts on national TV?" The chat show host flashes a too-white smile as the audience laughs. "What do you do in your off time?"

The Aegis was almost more dangerous to her allies than the enemy. Even her expert handler had gotten a chunk taken out of him. But I could tell the beast would never raise a hand to me, a lowly artificer. She seemed to like me. I asked her why. "You say 'please' when you want something," she said.

Wind her this way, Watch her dance! Wind her that way, Watch her kill! So goes the rather grisly nursery rhyme. But is there any truth to it? We recently unearthed one of those ancient automata, and now we're-- Wait, what's that sound? Oh, fuck, it's awake! Security! Securi-- [END OF RECORDING]

They took my pet robot away when it manifested a personality. It couldn't be mine anymore; it had to go become somebody. Then one day she came back. She remembered things about me from before she was alive. Called me "the cutest little thing". I never blushed so hard before. Maybe she'll keep me?

Her body was a mosaic of eclectic art and scrawled signatures. She told me every now and then she likes to strip down, hold a pose, and let street artists run wild with their spraycans. Her stone skin takes the paint well. Ironic, perhaps, to leave the art gallery behind, only to become one herself.

To outside observers, the man who froze time simply disappeared. But as the movement of planets, stars, and galaxies halted in their tracks, his movement did not. As a result, his momentum led to him being flung from the surface of the Earth at unimaginable speed.

Bass pounds her chest like it's trying to break in. Wide eyes dart around; prey looking for her predator. She finds it. Ana returns, drinks spilling over her fingers. "Y'right, babe?" Nothing. Ana's easy smile falters, softness creeping into her hard eyes. "Let's head out." And she feels safe again.

"Do you know why homunculi don't scar?" "Due to our innate healing magic." "Yes, but why is it so advanced?" I had a feeling he was gonna tell me. "Propaganda. A soldier goes through a hundred battles without a scratch, people think she's invincible." "Oh, but I AM invincible." No comeback for that.

There was one thing missing in every parallel world I visited: Myself. I was sure I'd be happier, richer, more successful in every reality but mine. But it seems nine times out of ten, I don't make it, for whatever reason. Soooo by that metric, I guess I ain't doing too bad.

Alone in the woods at night, seeing strange lights in the sky. I've seen 'em before. The air tingles, unearthly quiet. The lights get closer, closer. A great crack and snap as several trees fall, crushed by the alien craft's landing. And there they are. "I hoped I'd see you again, love," I smile.

"It seems fate has decreed that we must fight once more." The champion raises her blade. "Kiss me," her nemesis says, her guard readied. "What?" "I don't care much for fate - let's break it." A moment passes. The champion attacks. When their swords clash, her nemesis grins. "You hesitated."

I should hate her, shouldn't I? My replacement. But she really is so much better than me, I can't help but want to worship her. Then she timidly admits, "I can't believe they're replacing something as great as you with a lowly worm like me." And I'm left truly fucking speechless.

I love when she opens up to me. The fragile human heart of the invulnerable machine. I make sure I'm the first thing she sees when her wet eyes open. I let her fall softly into my arms, light as a feather, and she murmurs, "Why do I feel safer being held by you than by the mech?"

"Geogirl, quick! Sinister Sparks is breaking into the museum! We think she's about to steal Big Diamond!" "Oh, that's..." Geogirl looked down. "Well, I hope someone stops her." "You're not gonna-- Oh, honey, is she not your villain any more?" "We're taking a break... It's complicated."

Since magic is a living, vital thing, a spellbook should be the same. I have engraved every square inch of my skin - all of her best, most powerful spells. The others have begun to follow suit, but I'm still the first, still the best. I'm the only one truly indispensable to her.

"But now your skin is such a demonic hue!" they cry. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" I smile. "But weren't you a man before?" they cry. "You must be mistaken," I smile. "But you've changed! You've come back wrong!" they cry. "I've come back me," I smile.

"Check it out, girls," the Captain strode confidently through my halls, "a nice, fat freighter, just waitin' for us!" This feeling of being totally at her mercy, it was enough to-- "Woah, Neb, relax!" Captain cried out. "You're gonna go critical!" "Ah! S-sorry." "Maybe piracyplay was a bad idea..."

You're new on the interstellar scene. Have you ever encountered a world-eater? Gargantuan machines that appear in uninhabited systems sometimes. They carve up entire planets, break them down to constituent parts, then vanish. I do wonder what they're using all that material for.

It took multiple fleets to maneuver the objects into place. With impossibly precise coordination, we pushed them into eccentric orbits around a naked sun. Momentum will do the rest. Our cosmic sculpture will spin and twirl for the rest of this ornamented star's life.

WARNING: TELEPATHIC ISOLATION AREA As you notice the sign, so too do you notice a faint prickling in the corners of your mind. Someone, deep inside the expanse, feels you. Best turn around, leave them in peace. You wouldn't want to pollute the area with your noisy consciousness.

Pounding bass. I'm in the passenger seat, it's night, we're speeding above the city. The woman driving is sexy and sharp, barely clad in bright neon hues. Checking the mirror, I look just like her. "Who are we?" I ask. Her pointed teeth glitter in the dim light. "We're trouble."

"Mine," she growls, tugging me close. "No," the other pouts, "she's mine!" and I'm yanked back the other way. The two women glare over the top of my head, possessive grips pulling on my wrist, my waist, my hair. Even through the pain, I'm smiling. It's good to be wanted badly.

"Hey! Stop that!" The maid was swiping novels off the shelf. "Put those back!" the Lady shouted, hurling her teacup at it. The maid dodged, hissed at us, and scampered away, pilfered books clutched to its chest. The Lady turned to me, sighed. "It's good help. What can you do?"

"I didn't know what to be, after he died. I was made for him; I had no identity beyond being 'his'." She scowls. "I was nothing until that maidservant dug me out of storage. The way she looked at me..." A dreamy sigh. "She saw a blank canvas. And she taught me how to paint."

"You made me to be you," she whispers. "Maybe we should swap places. You'd be happy in my world, wouldn't you? So safely artificial. Like a dream. Your dream." "What about you?" I dare to ask. "I'd be free. Isn't that a fair trade? My beauty, safety, and joy, for your freedom?"