Here's the link to sign up at Netgalley for a chance to read @jeffnoon.bsky.social's fantastic new novel, Moon Over Brendle. "A transporting, generous novel, creating much to think on, and richly conjuring hopes and fears. It's an immersive and vivid adventure.” Aliya Whiteley bit.ly/4u1ncjA

Janine has two distinct personalities: one for daylight, and one for the dark. They meet at dusk as strangers might, passing on a desolate road.

My most treasured artefact: those few pixels I managed to save from Andy’s body before his resolution hit zero. They sparkle like moon dust.

The craft lay on its side in the mud banks, half-submerged, eaten away by rust, its metal hull staved in. Nearby a crooked sign read: VIEW THE FAMOUS SPACESHIP £5 ONLY. The fields were empty for miles around.

Lonely Variant 259 wishes to meet a Variant 170 for cross-mutation intermingling. Will also consider Variants 45 or 91 or even a 214 if GSOH.

This is my wound. I live here. I have a mortgage. I have documents. I have proof of ownership. Get your own bloody wound!

In all his 77 years of life Patrick Madison was photographed only once, and then by accident: blurry, out of focus, caught in the background as JFK was shot.

There’s only so far you can go before getting lost. Most people blame the new road system. Or bad maps. Or the fog banks. Or drugs. Or love.

In the aftermath, the hands of a clock fused together: a prayer at midnight.

The British Board of Shadow Classification has passed the following indistinct shape in the darkness as suitable for ages twelve and over. Parental guidance advised.

At the limits of the dog’s bark; at the blurred edge of the rainfall; at the point where the lark vanishes in the sky: I’ll meet you there.

I won an Arts Council grant to fade away. I did it so well, hardly anyone noticed. The gallery staff stood around the empty plinth, puzzled.

In the Museum of Night, sunlight is held in tinted jars, muted, just enough that vampires can stand and stare. Such a dangerous pleasure!

The Invisible Man and the Invisible Woman meet in the park, as unseen leaves fall from unseen trees, and unseen lips kiss at unseen lips. The Visible Voyeur sighs with pleasure.

This is a customer service announcement. Can NO meet YES at the front desk. Thank you. Meanwhile MAYBE sits alone, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting…

It was a Rothko night. We both had red and purple paint smeared on our fingers, where the edge of dusk crumbled into dark.

Bernadette uses lamps and mirrors to define areas of intense shadow. Doorways. In the hope that one day the air might tremble, and her long lost child walk through.

City Nocturne in blue and neon gold. Smoke, fever bass music, the pulse of blood and flesh. One android alone amid the crowd, fragile, lost.

"you have one notification"

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night to find the Internet sitting on the bed, staring at me. Just sitting there, staring!

Average Number of Words Used Per Day In waking life: 6,532 (spoken aloud to others) 497 (spoken to self) On screen/paper: 1,204. In dreams: 1 (indecipherable).

It was so windy and dark that day, our words were blown away. A few were caught in the fishing nets. The rest? Somewhere over France by now.

Don’t go dancing in glass slippers. Don’t steal porridge from bears. And ditch the red hood: too noticeable. Otherwise, have a safe journey.

The Daily Mail’s been complaining yet again about all the Proustitutes, Joyceriders and Wild Woolfs running amok in the city. Leave them be.

Jackson, please stop Pollacking. The walls are spotty enough. The house, also. And the cat. And myself. Please stop!

Virginia Woolf’s final message to the world was written in first draft on paper, in second draft on the mirror, in third draft on the water.

British Museum Fragment of ancient text (paper) “...when a giant ogre rises from the swamp. Do you want to A) Fight ogre [pg. 75] B) Run away! [pg. 4] C) Cast spell [pg. 98].” Usage unknown.

How’s the new religion? What’s that “marvellous floating feeling” really like? I read some one star reviews on Amazon. Is it really worth the price?

Trapped in a cage, a song: birdless.

Saturday afternoon in the multistorey graveyard, wandering, wondering: where the hell did we leave our bodies?

Jeff Noon's Nyquist novels? Don't listen to us, listen to Wasp Box. (Oh, and by the way, he's also totally right about Adam Roberts.)

"She would have to regrow herself. Tomorrow she would begin again on the task of her life, her secret life." The time we wrapped up copies of Gogmagog and Ludluda in old maps, tied them with string and sent them out with a bookmark and a stained Jim Brimstone's Navy Rum coaster.

"It was that kind of day, when one thing led to another, on and on. The dive of the kestrel had directed me to a long meandering line of pink and silver dust that was creeping across the field ... I walked down to meet it, and then followed alongside. The dust stream was a hand-span across.'

Blade Runner Blues (5) violet skies blue electric eyes gathering tears and images an equal number lost again, lost

Blade Runner Blues (4) how many times can you fall in love with someone constructed in a lab, or in a dream and still not feel the loss?

Blade Runner Blues (3) dreaming again I hate it when I dream the unicorn, as ever running slowly in the woods it’s made of folded paper

Blade Runner Blues (2) they won’t tell me whose memories I’ve been given: a dove, a nail c-beams glittering Pris’s eyes it all seems so real

Blade Runner Blues (1) another electric sheep dreaming of yet another android crying more tears in the rain drop by drop by drop

The covers for the French editions of @jeffnoon.bsky.social's Nyquist novels are wonderful.

Lost. Lost at sea. Lost in time, in space. Lost in the crowd. Lost in music and films. Lost in love, in flesh, in the night. Lost in words. Lost for words.

A voyeur gazes with love at an exhibitionist. But until they decide which of them is which, they are doomed to remain here, staring at each other as the hours pass.

You’ve already blunted my scissors, and wrapped my stone. Now you want to cut up my paper? All my unpublished poems, stories and memoirs? Get out of here!

Midnight. A clearing in a forest. A pool. All is quiet, not a person in sight. And yet... reflected in the water, a girl’s face trembles.

She was WOMAN IN BAR. He was THIRD ZOMBIE. They died in the first fifteen minutes. After the shoot they became LOVERS and ran together through EXT. FIELDS – DAY.

The machine in question consists of just twenty-six components and eleven linking devices: ABCDE FGHIJ KLMNO PQRST UVWXYZ ,;:?!’( )-“”. Press HERE to operate.

Pre-order upcoming Angry Robot (it's possible that other publishers' books are maybe available we suppose, your guess is as good as ours frankly) titles from Waterstones, using the code FEB26, and get yourself a sweet 25% off.

We are sorry for the loss of signal. Please remain seated. Your information overload will be back with you shortly.

The doctors drip-feed light back into you. How slowly the darkness fades. I look at your ashen face and see the dusk clearing from your eyes.

Your body doesn’t believe in you. Your reflection doesn’t believe in you. Your ghost doesn’t believe in you. Only your shadow stays true.

Romeo climbs onto the balcony and kisses air. Juliet’s lips will be pasted in later, post-production. The code of love is still being written.