Table of ContentsTable of ContentsThe wrong priority?Taking the long viewWeve not yet seen the full rollout of Apples M4 chip family the M4 Ultra is still yet to make an appearance but already weve just learned that the M5 chip is now in production. That means itll probably arrive in Macs either late this year or early next year.If youve been waiting to buy a new MacBook Pro, that could mean 2026 is the year to finally pull the trigger. After all, Apple is expected to fully redesign its flagship laptop for next years release, and if that coincides with a powerful new M5 chip, all the better.Recommended VideosBut theres another device the M5 chip is rumored for: the Vision Pro headset. And on that front, things are a lot more complicated. On the surface, it looks encouraging. The M5 will likely bring increased performance and better efficiency, the latter of which could lead to improved battery life in the Vision Pro. But theres another thing we could see when the M5 drops into the mixed-reality headset: the inclusion of Apple Intelligence, the companys artificial intelligence (AI) system. While the M2 in the existing Vision Pro can run AI (it does so in Macs, after all), it cant do it in the Vision Pro where it also needs to handle many other heavy processing workloads.Adding artificial intelligence to the Vision Pro makes sense from Apples perspective, as its trying to gain a foothold in the AI market. But does it actually make sense for Vision Pro users, both existing and prospective ones? Im not so sure.AppleI recently wrote that theres one thing the Vision Pro needs to resurrect itself, and thats a cheaper model. At $3,500, the current Vision Pro is well out of the reach of most consumers, and sales are suffering as a result. And really, I can say that a strong chip and Apple Intelligence were not on my list of necessary improvements.So why is Apple prioritizing a new chip instead of a cut-price model? Well, a new form factor takes time to develop, especially if Apple wasnt planning on launching one and was instead forced into action by lacklustre Vision Pro sales.But are AI and a more powerful chip really what the headset needs? Its already one of the most powerful and feature-rich virtual reality headsets on the market, and thats precisely why its price is so high. Adding in a brand-new chip is going to do nothing to make the Vision Pro more affordable, something that desperately needs to happen.As well as that, Apple Intelligence is very limited right now. While it has some good uses, it will need to be in a far better state by the time it launches in the Vision Pro to actually have any major impact (or convince buyers to snap one up).While I can see how AI could help Vision Pro users navigate a new interface and an unfamiliar way of working (just ask Siri to do something if you cant find it, for example), it will be irrelevant if the headset is still too expensive for most people to actually purchase one.AppleI expect that this M5 update is intended to keep the Vision Pro relevant while Apple works on a more affordable sibling model, which we know is in development. But really, the M5 inclusion just helps to highlight how much of a drastic rethink the Vision Pro needs. Simple chip upgrades and artificial intelligence arent going to cut it.Im hopeful that that kind of overhaul is exactly what Apple has planned. Theres no need to ditch the current Vision Pro entirely that can carry on as a model for enthusiasts and those for whom money is no object. For those people, the M5 chip will be a welcome upgrade.But I expect that everyone else would be willing to skip the M5 chip if it meant Apple could bring down the cost and release a more affordable headset. Its just a shame that the cut-price headset might not launch until 2028. Until then, Apple will have to hope upgrades like the M5 are enough to keep people happy.Editors Recommendations

Apple is set to unveil the long-awaited iPhone SE 4 in the coming days, according to prominent Apple tipster Mark Gurman.In an article for Bloomberg posted on Thursday, Gurman said that the company expects to announce the device as early as next week, ahead of it going on sale later in the month.Recommended VideosCiting people with knowledge of the matter, he added that the tech giant appears unlikely to hold a launch event for the new SE phone, which is being updated for the first time in three years.Please enable Javascript to view this contentGurman noted that supplies of the current iPhone SE have dwindled at many Apple retail stores, which is a strong sign that the new phone is close to launch.We dont have any details on pricing yet. The current version of Apples most affordable phone costs $429, though there have been reports that the new SE could hit shelves for a bit more, possibly $499, making it $300 less than the regular iPhone 16.The iPhone SE 4 will be the first in the series to feature a full display, possibly measuring 6.1 inches, up from the 4.7-inch display on the 2022 model. And TouchID will be replaced by FaceID. Other changes will include a transition to USB-C, replacing the Lightning connector.Notably, the new phone is also expected to come with a faster chip the A18 giving owners access to at least some Apple Intelligence features.We can also expect to see a better camera and improved battery life, making it a powerful proposition for those wanting an iPhone without spending top dollar.Editors Recommendations

Renate Reinsve stars in writer-director Halfdan Ullmann Tndels film as the mother of a boy who has been accused of alarming misbehavior.

click click Nintendo patent explains Switch 2 Joy-Cons mouse operation mode Users can access thumbsticks, shoulder buttons while sliding Joy-Cons on a flat surface. Kyle Orland Feb 6, 2025 6:04 pm | 13 The old way of holding a Joy-Con (top) and the new way (bottom) Credit: Nintendo / WIPO The old way of holding a Joy-Con (top) and the new way (bottom) Credit: Nintendo / WIPO Story textSizeSmallStandardLargeWidth *StandardWideLinksStandardOrange* Subscribers only Learn moreIt's been a month since we first heard rumors that the Switch 2's new Joy-Cons could be slid across a flat surface to function like a computer mouse. Now, a newly published patent filed by Nintendo seems to confirm that feature and describes how it will work.The international patent was filed with the World Intellectual Property Organization in January 2023, but it was only published on WIPO's website on Thursday. The Japanese-language patentwhose illustrations match what we've seen of Switch 2 Joy-Con preciselyfeatures an English abstract describing "a sensor for mouse operation" that can "detect reflected light from a detected surface, the light changing by moving over the detected surface..." much like any number of optical computer mice. Schematic drawings in the patent show how the light source and light sensor are squeezed inside the Joy-Con, with a built-in lens for directing the light to and from each. A schematic diagram of the Switch 2's Joy-Con light sensor Credit: Nintendo / WIPO A schematic diagram of the Switch 2's Joy-Con light sensor Credit: Nintendo / WIPO A machine translation of the full text of the patent describes the controller as "a novel input device that can be used as a mouse and other than a mouse." In mouse mode, as described in the patent, the user cradles the outer edge of the controller with their palm and places the inner edge "on, for example, a desk or the like."In this configuration, the user's thumb can still access the analog stick (which is now pointing horizontally) while the index and middle fingers are positioned so the two shoulder buttons "can be operated as, for example, a right-click button and a left-click button," according to the patent. The patent describes this configuration as "easy to hold" or "easy to grip." It also goes to great lengths to explain how the shoulder buttons wrap around the curved top corner of the controller and thus are "easy to press" by pushing either downward or closer to horizontally with a finger.According to the patent, two Joy-Cons can be used simultaneously as mice, with one in each hand, or one can be used as a mouse while the other is held vertically as a more traditional Switch Joy-Con. Intriguingly, the patent suggests that the mouse mode might work when the controller is hovering up to 1 cm above the flat surface being used, which would put it at the higher end of usable lift-off distances used in PC gaming mice. A top view of the Joy-Con's "mosue operation" mode. Note how the thumb still has access to the analog stick while two fingers rest on the two should buttons. Nintendo / WIPOA top view of the Joy-Con's "mosue operation" mode. Note how the thumb still has access to the analog stick while two fingers rest on the two should buttons.Nintendo / WIPO Dual mouse mode! Nintendo / WIPODual mouse mode!Nintendo / WIPO You can use one Joy-Con in the traditional manner while using the other as a mouse. Nintendo / WIPOYou can use one Joy-Con in the traditional manner while using the other as a mouse.Nintendo / WIPODual mouse mode!Nintendo / WIPOYou can use one Joy-Con in the traditional manner while using the other as a mouse.Nintendo / WIPOWhile the other details of the Joy-Cons and gaming device described in the patent match up closely with what we know of the Switch 2, it's important to remember that the final hardware could differ from these early patented descriptions. For instance, the patent makes no mention of the stabilizing mounts that were shown clicking onto the edge of the Joy-Con before a mouse-like sliding section of the hardware's first-glimpse trailer last month.That said, the patent serves as strong evidence of just how the Switch Joy-Cons could emulate computer mice. We expect more details will be shared when Nintendo releases a Switch-focused Direct video on April 2.Kyle OrlandSenior Gaming EditorKyle OrlandSenior Gaming Editor Kyle Orland has been the Senior Gaming Editor at Ars Technica since 2012, writing primarily about the business, tech, and culture behind video games. He has journalism and computer science degrees from University of Maryland. He once wrote a whole book about Minesweeper. 13 Comments

Sending science over the cliff White House budget proposal could shatter the National Science Foundation "This kind of cut would kill American science and boost China." Eric Berger Feb 6, 2025 5:38 pm | 48 One of the glaciers in the McMurdo Dry Valleys dwarfs the tents of researchers who have travelled to Antarctica to study it. Credit: Peter West/National Science Foundation One of the glaciers in the McMurdo Dry Valleys dwarfs the tents of researchers who have travelled to Antarctica to study it. Credit: Peter West/National Science Foundation Story textSizeSmallStandardLargeWidth *StandardWideLinksStandardOrange* Subscribers only Learn moreSometime during the next several weeks, the directors of federal agencies will receive a draft version of President Trump's budget request for the coming fiscal year, which begins on October 1. This "passback review" is a standard part of the federal budgeting process which ends in Congress writing a budget and the president signing it into law.The budget request will be the first of President Trump's second term, and it will offer a clear window into the priorities of his new administration. Although widespread cuts are expected for much of the government's discretionary spending, the outlook for the National Science Foundation appears to be especially grim.During an emotional all-hands meeting on Tuesday, the agency's assistant director, Susan Margulies, told agency employees to expect between a quarter and a half of its staff to be laid off within the coming months, E&E News reported.On Thursday, two sources told Ars that the science agency should expect to see steep cuts in Trump's forthcoming budget request. In recent years, the National Science Foundation has received an annual budget of approximately $9 billion, the vast majority of which is spent on research and research-related activities. The cuts could be as deep as 66 percent, with one person indicating the top-line budget number for the National Science Foundation could start at $3 billion.Such a massive cut is not out of line with a proposal made by Russ Vought for the fiscal year 2023 budget as part of his Center for Renewing America. Vought is expected to become the White House budget director in the coming days. Three years ago, Vought proposed cutting the National Science Foundation budget to $3.9 billion. The cuts, he wrote, would require NSF "to make better decisions and target grants to actual research that will benefit the whole country, not just propagandize for woke ideology."The president proposes, and Congress disposesThere are important caveats to this proposal. The Trump administration has probably not even settled upon the numbers that will go into its draft budget, which then goes through the passback process in which there are additional changes. And then, of course, the budget request is just a starting point for negotiations with the US Congress, which sets budget levels.Even so, such cuts could prove disastrous for the US science community."This kind of cut would kill American science and boost China and other nations into global science leadership positions," Neal Lane, who led the National Science Foundation in the 1990s during Bill Clinton's presidency, told Ars. "The National Science Foundation budget is not large, of the order 0.1 percent of federal spending, and several other agencies support excellence research. But NSF is the only agency charged to promote progress in science."The National Science Foundation was established by Congress in 1950 to fund basic research that would ultimately advance national health and prosperity, and secure the national defense. Its major purpose is to evaluate proposals and distribute funding for basic scientific research. Alongside the National Institutes of Health and Department of Energy, it has been an engine of basic discovery that has led to the technological superiority of the United States government and its industries.Some fields, including astronomy, non-health-related biology, and Antarctic research, are all almost entirely underwritten by the National Science Foundation. The primary areas of its funding can be found here.Eric BergerSenior Space EditorEric BergerSenior Space Editor Eric Berger is the senior space editor at Ars Technica, covering everything from astronomy to private space to NASA policy, and author of two books: Liftoff, about the rise of SpaceX; and Reentry, on the development of the Falcon 9 rocket and Dragon. A certified meteorologist, Eric lives in Houston. 48 Comments

Skeleton of the new plesiosaur at the Urwelt-Museum Hauff in Holzmaden, GermanyKlaus Nilkens/Urwelt-Museum HauffThe soft tissue of a plesiosaur has been studied in detail for the first time, revealing that the marine reptiles, which lived during the age of dinosaurs and went extinct at the same time, had scales similar to those of modern sea turtles.The 183-million-year-old, 4.5-metre-long plesiosaur fossil, known as MH7, was first excavated from a quarry near Holzmaden, Germany, in 1940 but it was buried in a museum garden to protect it during the second world war. It then spent the next 75 years or so in storage until it was finally assembled and prepared for study in 2020. AdvertisementMiguel Marx at Lund University in Sweden and his team prepared thin sections of the fossil, which were then treated so the minerals were dissolved away, leaving the organic remains. This allowed them to study the microscopic structure of the fossil tissue.Illustration of a plesiosaur with scales on the flipper and smooth, scale-less skin along the bodyJoschua KnppeAlthough at least eight other plesiosaur fossils are known to have soft tissue preserved, most are historically significant museum specimens and it isnt possible to study them using destructive sampling methods, says Marx. This is the first time anyone has conducted an in-depth analysis of fossilised soft tissues from a plesiosaur, he says. Unmissable news about our planet delivered straight to your inbox every month.Sign up to newsletterThe team was amazed to discover that the reptile had areas of both smooth and scaly skin. Taken together, this plesiosaur was an interesting chimera between something like a green sea turtle with scales and the [smooth-skinned] leatherback turtle, says Marx. I would have expected this plesiosaur to be scale-less like contemporary ichthyosaurs.The scaled skin on the flippers probably helped the plesiosaur swim through the water by providing stiffness or aided it in moving along the seafloor when searching for food, he says. The scale-less skin on the rest of the body would have reduced the effects of drag when swimming.The actual external appearance of long-necked plesiosaurs is really anyones guess, but now we have a better idea thanks to this new fossil, says Marx.Journal reference:Current Biology DOI: 10.1016/j.cub.2025.01.00Topics:

Amazon Web Services growth hindered by capacity constraints in data centers, says CEO.Constraints stem from AI chip shortages, server components, and energy supply issues.Amazon plans $105 billion in 2025 capital expenditures, largely led by AI.Amazon CEO Andy Jassy said on Thursday that the Amazon Web Services cloud business could grow faster if not for "capacity constraints" across its data centers.He said the shortage has been caused by difficulty procuring AI chips, server components like motherboards, and the energy to power data centers."It is true that we could be growing faster, if not for some of the constraints on capacity," Jassy said during Thursday's call with analysts.On Thursday, AWS reported a 19% increase in sales for the fourth quarter at $28.8 billion, which was slightly below street estimates. Amazon's stock dropped roughly 4% in after-hours as the company gave lower-than-anticipated first-quarter guidance.Jassy's remarks echo recent statements made by cloud rivals Microsoft and Google. Microsoft's CFO Amy Hood said last week that the company is in "a pretty constrained capacity place" when it comes to meeting demand, while Google's leadership said on Tuesday that it ended 2024 with "more (AI) demand than capacity."Jassy said on Thursday that he expects the constraints to "relax" in the second half of 2025, adding it is "hard to complain" when AWS's AI business is on pace to generate "multi-billion" dollars in annual sales.Amazon expects AI demand to continue growing. For 2025, the company forecast roughly $105 billion in capital expenditures, mostly in data centers, after spending a record $26.3 billion during the fourth-quarter.Jassy said AWS doesn't make that kind of financial commitment unless there are "significant signals of demand.""When AWS is expanding its capex, particularly what we think is one of these once-in-a-lifetime type of business opportunities like AI represents, I think it's actually quite a good sign, medium to long term for the AWS business," Jassy said.Do you work at Amazon? Got a tip?Contact the reporter Eugene Kim via the encrypted messaging apps Signal or Telegram (+1-650-942-3061) or email (). Reach out using a nonwork device. for other tips on sharing information securely.

Military units pause training amid compliance reviews with Trump's directives.The pause is also affecting some courses that train troops to help victims of assault.Military sexual assault rates persist, though some services report a decline.President Donald Trump's executive orders targeting government diversity, equity, and inclusion activities and "gender ideology" appear to be throwing a wrench into some military sexual assault prevention education programs.Some units have paused their sexual assault prevention and response, known as SAPR, training efforts amid ongoing reviews of program compliance with Trump's orders.In response to the orders, the Office of Personnel Management (OPM) sent out memos on implementing the president's orders, each referencing relevant training.Destiny Sibert, a Navy spokeswoman, told Business Insider Thursday that "in compliance with OPM guidance, Commander, Navy Installations Command (CNIC), which oversees the Navy SAPR program, has temporarily paused training for SAPR staff." A review of the curriculum is underway to "ensure compliance with recent executive orders," she said.Sibert added that the "necessary revisions will be completed and updated materials will be provided to the sexual assault response workforce soonest."The SAPR training pause does not extend to support services provided to sexual assault victims, Sibert said. "CNIC and the Navy SAPR program are committed to providing quality care, advocacy and support to the Navy community."A spokesperson for the Marine Corps, which falls under the Department of the Navy, told Business Insider that "as of February 4, SAPR-related training was temporarily paused to review and ensure compliance with Executive Orders and directives." Training is expected to resume this week.Neither the White House nor the Army and the Air Force responded to Business Insider's request for comment by time of publication. 82nd Training Wing airmen attend the continuum of sexual behavior briefing at Sheppard Air Force Base, Texas, Nov. 16, 2017. U.S. Air Force photo by Alan R. Quevy What is SAPR?Sexual Assault Prevention and Response (SAPR) was created in 2005 to be "DoD's single point of accountability for sexual assault prevention and response policy and program oversight," according to the program's website. The mission is to prevent assault by educating troops, and to provide support to victims.US military personnel are required to receive sexual assault prevention training every year. The training is geared toward various rank blocks for example, junior enlisted troops receive different education than senior enlisted troops or officers. These annual sexual assault prevention trainings normally last around one hour.US military sexual consent education is often the first time that junior service members receive formal instruction on what constitutes consent, as most states lack consent education in K-12 grade school curricula, according to the Guttmacher Institute, a sexual health and reproductive rights research and policy organization.The people who teach service members about consent are usually other uniformed personnel who have attended a short course to become a "uniformed victim advocate." The UVA position is most often a collateral duty for troops who are also expected to assist victims of sexual assault in the wake of an assault.Such assistance can include liaising with commanders, mental health professionals, and legal services to advocate on behalf of the victim.Military sexual assault rates have remained a persistent problem within the armed forces, though reports last year indicated that rates may be on the decline for the first time in years for some, but not all, military services. Many military assaults are never reported.

With Valentines Day almost upon us, were looking at good parenting moments from our favorite TV mom and dad, Chilli and Bandit Heeler from Ludo Studios Bluey. The duo are goals in how they have raised Bluey and Bingo with lots of play while also retaining their healthy partner dynamic. And notably, theyre not perfectas seen in Blueys many episodes in which the parents do a lot of unlearning and must figure out how to best show up for not just their kids, but also for each other. In Pool, Bandits the fun dad who may have forgotten swimming essentials because thats the boring parents job. The Heeler family quickly learns how things that seem boring are essential to having fun. And theres adorable romantic shorts where mom and dad can just enjoy one another in play with their kids, as seen in Daddy Robot and The Bus. Some of the most heartfelt moments between the two occur while the kids are performing for them, in particular in The Show. Bingos pretending to be a pregnant Chilli when a balloon pops in her fake belly, and we see Bandit immediately take Chillis hand, a gesture that ties into the shows implication that Bingo is a rainbow baby. Here are the Bluey episodes that most remind us that Bandit and Chilli are relationship goals.Fairytale Blueyseason 3, episode 26 Bandit imagines or remembers meeting Chilli as a kid at a vacation spot their families frequented. This is reminiscent to Bluey and Jean-Luc having their childhood introduction in the Camping episode before reuniting in the futurehes our pick as the father of Blueys kid.The Show Bluey season 2, episode 19 Bandit and Chilli watch Bluey and Bingo recreate how their parents met in London. They adorably confirm their relationship evolution and give the kids notes along the way. The Bus Bluey season 2, episode 22 The Grannies play matchmakers for a fun meet-cute on a bus as they pretend to be strangers. Daddy Robot Bluey season 1, episode 4 Bandit plays Daddy Robot with the kids, and he finds love with Mommy Robot. The Pool Bluey season 2, episode 22 Teamwork makes the dream work. This episode has a really cute kiss set up with one of our favorite shots in the whole series.Smoochy Kiss Bluey season 3, episode 35 Chilli says she doesnt like dad so the kids naturally take him away from her attempts at smoochy kisses. More sweet Chilli and Bandit moments Heres a cute compilation of some of the most relatable and goals moments between Chilli and Bandit Heeler to celebrate the season of love.Are there any favorites we missed? Let us know in the comments below! Watch Bluey online and on Disney+. Want more io9 news? Check out when to expect the latest Marvel, Star Wars, and Star Trek releases, whats next for the DC Universe on film and TV, and everything you need to know about the future of Doctor Who.

io9 is proud to present fiction from Lightspeed Magazine. Once a month, we feature a story from Lightspeeds current issue. This months selection is It Holds Her in the Palm of One Hand by Lowry Poletti; this is part one of twolook for part two next week. Enjoy! It Holds Her in the Palm of One Hand by Lowry Poletti On Miphre, a planet hardly larger than a moon, jagged mountaintops stab above the cloud cover and harbor small ecosystems in the palms of their hands: rock eels and ribbon mosses and seabirds with rodents clutched to their breasts, each one nestled between those stony fingers. The perfect nesting spot for gastor, the captain of The Cyclops Cradles Her Sheep said when they arrived on board a few hours ago. Its basically a buffet for them. Sun tilted her head to the side. Gastor dont nest. Im sorry? The captains reply was concurrent with a pointed look from Dossa Nirav, Suns mentor.Theyre ovoviviparous. She paused and reluctantly added, They retain their eggs until they hatch internally. Then they come planet-side to refill their crops after the birth. They dont make nests. Thats what I meant.No, she said. Its not. Now Sun watches the clouds with a mug of Earl Gray cupped in both hands. The observation deck features a 270-degree domed window and a metal floor so reflective that she feels like shes standing on the same sky floating above her. You didnt have to correct him, Sundimnya, Dossa whispers to her, facing away so it doesnt seem as though his student needs a talking-to. She wonders if he knows that he has whipped cream in his beard.I didnt? It was a great compliment that we were invited for the capture, you know. Most pilots never see this.She shrugs. I could have just watched the recording after. She does want to be here, but its worth it to see the look on Dossas face: the raised eyebrows and wide eyes, the barely audible sigh. In the flat expanse of the clouds, there is a stirring. She squints.When is the flock supposed to arrive? They estimated half an hour. She leans into him, points to a stirring in the clouds. Do you think so? She feels the pang in her chest, and she bets Dossa does, too. After working with her bird for years, the wonder has never left. If anything, it has grown. Sun isnt the superstitious type, but she has spent so long memorizing everything about the gastor, from the feeling of her birds skin against hers to the rhythm of its breathing to the cadence of its locomotion. The crew of the Cyclops doesnt see the held-breath silence of the sky preceding the arrival of a flock. If she said a word, they could call it prescience.She hooks her arm into the crook of Dossas. When the flock breaches the clouds, they make even the peaks seem small. Their feet claw for purchase against the cliff faces and their wings beat frantically against the wind, weighed down by the unfamiliar gravity. As one wraps its serpentine neck around the crags, another crashes into it and forces its too-big body beneath the others wing. In space, the gas gathered in their crops makes their blubberous bodies inflate, but here, their deeply pigmented skin is pulled drum-like across their keels.Sun has rarely seen a flock of Gastor siderum this numerous. It crowds the crags, spinning and trumpeting as the birds blot out the starlight with both their wings and the hanging carcasses of their prey. Their last meal paints their faces red. She picks out the eldest pilot-bird from the frenzy. Gastor age like whales, combs cauliflowered and wattles tickmarked. Their flesh holds a potters fingermarks, and the pilot-bird, who so often leads their flights, bears the deepest scars. But like a bee colony that has outgrown its nest, this flock has hatched a new pilot-bird so it may take half the flock as its own.Around Sun, the crew cheers. Their eyes flicker every which way. Sun remembers the first time she saw a flock like this, how she couldnt make out fleshy, vent-lined tail from neck, nor ends from beginnings. Here, only she and Dossa know where to look. She finds the hatchlings little head nestled beneath the two birds on the mountainside. Her heart leaps into her throat. She can only tell it apart from a misplaced rock by its wide, four-eyed stare. They usually dont find pilot-birds so young. Not clinging-to-its-mother young. Above them, droning hydraulics indicate the release of the capture vessels.This could be yours someday, Dossa muses. She wants to crack open his skull and figure out how he arrived here at this unearned optimism. No one knows how long gastor live for. Sun and Dossas bird has been served by generations of pilots. When she met it, she felt like a child. Some days she wakes up, consumed with dread, because she may walk into the birds chamber and find it sprawled across the floor. If their bird dies in the middle of her career, she would be lucky to be stationed on a new ship with another bird so old that she feels small all over again. That is, if there are any unmanned birds at all. More likely, she will be abandoned, grounded Waiting and waiting and waiting.She imagines meeting this new, egg-wet thing, imagines cradling its head in her hands. She is filled with a sudden hatred for the pilot destined for this bird. She didnt think she would feel like this. If it is a shock to anyone, it is one especially to her. When Sun returns to Messinas Third Daughter, she visits her bird first. Under the watchful gaze of two stylized gastor sculpted over the doorways, Sun slips into her suit, checks the integrity of the hooks latched to her side, and fits her mask over her mouth and nose. The door behind her seals shut with a hiss, then the one before her swings open.Down a shining, aluminum walkway lies a pair of metal hands within a glass dome. A radiant, cerulean sphere, the piloting chamber, the birds home. At the midpoint between, she needs to hold onto the railings. The magnets in her gloves keep her from floating toward the ceiling before she can anchor herself inside of the chamber. Despite their brief jaunts onto planets, gastor dont maintain the bone density needed to withstand gravity for long periods of time, so the birds chamber is held at arms length away from the ship. The exception being hatchlings captured days after birthor birds born and raised in captivityhoused without zero gravity accommodations. And no one has ever bred a pilot-bird. These strange variations on the wild type gastor feature a complete intersex reproductive system and unusually discerning sensory organs. By unknown means, gastor control the production of pilot birds to exactly one per flock.One per wild flock. Captive flocks dont produce any at all. Does Sun want to see that anyway? Those big-boned, domestic creatures made dense as they were pulled toward the Earth, covered in a puffy coat of down, huddled up on their stumpy necks and hypertrophied haunches? She and Dossa were invited to a private collection of Earthly gastor last year and she could hardly look them in the eye. How insulting that would be, she thinks, to do the same to a pilot-bird. Pushing against the railing, she propels herself toward the chamber and pulls herself inside. Like Sun, the bird has been on vacation. Untethered from the piloting apparatus, it floats in the upper sector of its chamber in the classical gastorian pose: head cushioned in the rolls of its neck like a ball python hidden beneath a rock, its fatty tail curled back towards its body. Vapors made from the birds exhaust and the gas filtered in from the body of the ship swirl to create a fog that lazily plays with the birds wattles.The technicians, mercifully, have tinted the glass panels, obscuring the flight of the wild flock. One of the panels is a slightly different color than the rest due to an old repair. The story Sun hears about this panel is always different: in some, it was damaged by stray debris and a distracted pilot; in others, the bird broke it with its wing. Accidentally, of course. It must have been startled. As the bird turns towards her, the circular stomata on either side of its keel stare like false eyes. She waves. I dont like being gone for so long, she says to it. It makes my skin itch. Sometimes she feels like it understands her, especially when she talks (shes told it about her house on Earth, and that sometimes she misses the feeling of grass beneath her feet, andmost recentlythat shes managed to source a substitute for her sisters rosy scent, which comes so close, but not quite, to the smell Sun associates with her childhood), but she knows thats nonsense. Suns mother thinks her dog understands humans, too.The capture was strange. Dossa doesnt seem to understand why I think so. Fumes from the fermented food of the birds dual crop, exhaled from the gill-like stomata on its tail, propels it forward at a languid pace. In the comfort of space, wings are not for locomotion. The slow, undulating movement of its wings stimulates its body walls, moving gas through its air sacs and food through its guts without the need for a consistent negative pressure system. Sun admires the pulsing muscle moving like the waves of the sea beneath the birds skin. Encased behind protective glass for decades, the bird is so pale that its skin is translucent. Yellow fat pads flank its keel, spiderwebbed with purple veins. Following the death of the pilot-bird of Nine Heads Overlooking the River earlier this year, theirs is the oldest one in captivity. Her head falls to the side. Did you ever hide any hatchlings under there? With a click, the monitor to her right turns on. Brow furrowed, she pulls on her tethers to get back to the wall and unlatches the device, intending to turn it off. Sequences of white text play across the screen. This data is transmitted from the electrodes installed in the birds brain. Both its brain and electrodes are covered with a metal plate, which cuts off the signal, but sometimes bits and pieces still leak through. Sun has spent the better part of her life learning how to interpret her birds neural outputs so she can relay that information to the navigation crew in real time. But she cant make heads nor tails of this. Theres an entire screen filled with the same line repeated over and over. She scrolls past the repeated code, and the neural output descends into jumbled nonsense, full of lines shes never seen before. Her finger hovers over the power button. A shadow falls over her. The bird has come closer now, neck stretched forward, lines of murky gas trailing from its nostrils, the black orbs of its eyes unblinking. She has never forgotten how huge her bird is, but she has forgotten the feeling in her gut when it is so close to her, its head as tall as she is, its wings spanning past the far reaches of her vision. Terrific, nauseous. The beeps of the monitor drift into the back of her mind, far away now, as she tries to make sense of the output filling up the screen. What is this? Her mask muffles her voice, her words bent in strange ways by the gastorian exhaust. The output ceases. Leaning back in her recliner, Sun drags a finger down todays neural output. Flickering on her computer screen, it doesnt scare her as much as it did before. The electrodes were probably malfunctioning, she tells herself. Although most of it appears to be nonsense, both the first and last line are the same. Its probably an olfactory code, but for a chemical she is unfamiliar with, which is especially odd since the bird didnt have access to any new scents. She picks at her hair as she reads. Her curls lie close to her head, but she can stretch each coil down to her eyebrow if she tugs hard enough. Beside her, her friend, Metir Hati, finally sits down with a mug of warm wine and taps the television remote. The capture? he asks as it boots up. Was fine, Sun says. Tapping the down arrow, scanning the rest of the output for familiar codes. Im not sure what I expected. And that? He gestures to her computer. She wheels her chair over quickly. Its nothing. Hati exhales. He doesnt reply, but he does cross his legs. His body is made up of all sharp angles, from the slope of his bowed lips to the way his knuckles jut out of his skin. He turns on the display, and the video chat interface is projected onto the wall. The cursor still hovers over the name Mare Indrani even though their last call was nearly three weeks ago. Hati, graciously, navigates away from this without comment. He pulls up a video instead. Is this what you wanted to show me? Sun asks. These are the failures. In the video, a gastor hatchling peels the remnants of its caul from its neck, wings still glued to its side with albumin. From out of view, a metal pointer lifts the hatchlings head up. Hatis monotone rings through the speakers, Keel sensors poorly developed. Wing vasculature under He skips to the next video. Another hatchling. A light is flashed into its eyes, and it stumbles away with an alarm cry. The next. Two gloved hands pry open its beak. Beneath the weight of its gravity-laden body, its legs tremble. Shamans show high ocular resistance to UV radiation even at a young age. Sublingual gland pores should be open and functional within an hour of birth, Hati says. Human technology has yet to develop the same navigational prowess of a pilot-bird, which can not only detect novel planets or oncoming threats in unexplored regions of space, but also calculate efficient, safe routes instinctively. Researchers have only just breached the surface of pilot-bird sensory organs: from the cryptochromes that allow them to detect magnetic fields to olfaction more sensitive than a state-of-the-art spectroscopy. Although she isnt intimately familiar with the embryonic development of pilot-birds, Sun doesnt need to be told. She can see it in these hatchlings already in their ghostly visage, the dullness of their eyes. Theyre nothing like the child she saw today. Did you grow all of these? Unfortunately, Hati says. Genetically, they are identical to your shaman, but correct maturation cannot be confirmed until late development. These hatchlings were selected from a batch of fifty treated with a cocktail of pheromones. Each one bore proto-pilot organs which, inevitably, failed to develop. What happened to them? They were no longer needed. The next video plays. This hatchling is still curled up in a bath of amnion, shielded from the world with panes of glass. Lined with red tissue, an eye-shaped organ emerges from the hatchlings keelone on each sideglistening, dark. Barbels hang from the base of its beak and vibrate softly. Oh, Sun says. We are watching this one. This one, Sun echoes. Sun read the brief last night. This tutorial flight is routine and typically wouldnt require gastorian piloting, but a flare star damaged some of their equipment while she and Dossa were away. The nearest station is too far away to be detected with their current navigational capabilities. She just needs to get them within a days travel or so. Just needs to keep them on course. Why do you think Dr. Metir still calls pilot-birds shamans? she asks Dossa as they wait for the preparations to cease. Even though hes in the adjunctive deck above the piloting chamber, she can see him shrug. His voice trickles in through her radio. He strikes me as the sentimental type. Does he? Thats the joke, Officer Mare. She stops herself from asking if he has seen Hatis hatchling. Hati often confides in Sun first, particularly when his findings are promising but not confirmed. Not to mention, theres other people in the observation deck today. She should have known, as soon as she had entered the atrium, that the Daughters operators were going to observe her tutorial today, given that Dossa had brushed his beard for once, slicked back his hair, and even covered the mole beneath his right eye with a dot of terracotta-brown concealer. Either way, she hopes he learns of the hatchling soon. She can only imagine his excitement. A shrill alarm announces the chambers imminent depressurization. A full suit and helmet protect Sun from the vacuum as the glass panels yawn open. Now more than ever, she relies on the tethers to keep her connected to the piloting apparatus: shaped like two hands held back-to-back, the apparatus holds Sun in the palm of one hand and the bird in the claws of the other. Shes heard that the late commissioner of the Daughter was an artist before an explorer, and that she oversaw the sculpture of each wrinkle personally. The birds skull cap is open now, the metal plate slid away. Through the glint of green-coated protective glass, she can see the melanistic tissue of its brain. It lifts its head as the expanse unrolls before them (slowly now, but soon each star will be a line of white and the blackness in between unreadable). Miphre sparkles with starlight reflected off its mica-laden peaks. In an instant, Suns monitor flashes to life and the birds neural outputs fill the screen with inconsequential readings: Ozone smell. An iron-metal pull planet-side. With a wave of her hand, she asks for blinders to her left. The glass panels shift back with bone-shaking creaks, now tinted black.She studies the monitor. As she stares, the strings of code appear to float. She touches each glowing character with the tips of her fingers because she knows soon they will disappear entirely. She directs the crew over the radio: lips moving, words like whale song in her ears, but she doesnt register what shes saying. Each calculation is automatic. The bird senses the magnetic pull of the station from a distance Sun herself cant comprehend, the magnitude of each metallic twitch embedded in code. She finds the coordinates in an animal part of her braina feeling/unthinking part that understands how a vector becomes somewhere in spaceas the rest of her drifts further away. Dossa says piloting is like studying a painting. Each code becomes a different color, distinctly but subtly different, and he picks through the shades until they become a whole picture. Today, in this painting, they crash through a cloud of methane and ethanol and Sun feels the smell so thickly in her throat that she might as well tear her helmet off. Her bird lets hydrocarbons fall on its tongue, each drop of wax dissolving in its saliva to be stored in its buccal sacs. It breathes out the same chemicals in a new ratio: a new, generic flock-recognition pheromone that says: I am here; this is my name; this is my familys name. Three planets lie in the path between them and the station: the farthest is invisible, the next a dot winking, and the third so bright that it hums in scarlet, redder as they approach, making her shake with its new baritone voice. She wishes she could tell her bird each of their names. She describes their locations relative to the ship, and as Messinas Third Daughter adjusts her course, Sun doesnt hear the creaking metal or the hissing hydraulics. She sees the pressure shift deep in the birds chest, its stomata stenosed to the right, exhaust pumped out to the left, wings tilted just so. Although it is strapped to the ship, it thinks its flying on its own route. There is a wisp of route-propagation pheromone so faint that Sun nearly misses it, but suddenly it is everywhere. Olfactory codes crawl across the screen: Go here come here go here come here. It must be from the Miphre flock. Her bird isnt navigating anymore. It has pulled its head back against its body, beak yawning wide, keel stomata flared. It sees them. Black wings on black night. Their scent lingers: mother and the not-quite pilot; the smell of amnion; their summons and Suns/the birds answer, which has become their singular thought. Would they ever see each other again? With stomach-churning force, Sun drags herself back into her body. Neutralizer for the propagation signal, please! she calls. The gas is pumped into the chamber and fanned onto the birds face; the scent is generally confusing enough to prevent any more olfactory outputs. A temporary solution. But they should be out of the flocks pheromone range within the hour. Already, the hatchlings smell fades away. Mare? She doesnt answer. Shell resume the flight imminently, and that will be answer enough. Quickly, she puts her fingers to the monitor again, stills her body, and tries to sink into the birds thoughts once again. She reads the first line. The nonsense output has returned. It starts with the same olfactory code, the one she saw just the other day. The birds smelling a gas that shes never even seen in space before. She cant even find the compounds that make up the neutralizing gas in the jumbled mess that follows. Dr. Mare? She presses her fingers into the screen. As fast as her gloved hands will let her, she navigates to the admin commands so she can make a copy for herself. She highlights the nonsense output, scrolls down and down and down. Last time, the nonsense ended with the olfactory code. If she can find that, shell know shes gotten the whole thing. But its even longer than the first time. Sundimnya. Dossas voice pulls the chamber to a halt. The stars return in stark focus and Sun hugs the monitor to her chest. In the fragile stillness, she finds herself vibrating. I need to go, she says. In the evening, Sun finds a man in the cafe and brings him to her suite. He has round, clear eyes, which remind her of a pond, and smooth skin. She thinks he could be handsome, so she ignores his unbrushed hair and the oil stains on his sleeve. She strips him naked (he tries to kiss her once; Id rather not, she says) and places him on the bed, belly-up. Without his clothes, shes struck by how much larger he is compared to her. It makes her stomach roll, and for a moment, she forgets why she picked this one. Here, she says, and she straddles his hips. He lets his hands fall on her waist, but the touch is distant, hollow. This used to be nice. And simple, too. She hasnt enjoyed sex in quite a while, but she still tells herself that the next time might be different. Sometimes she convinces herself that she misses it. Someone like Indrani probably misses it, and someone like Indrani probably cheats because she actually likes getting off. He thumbs between her labia. Do you like that? Sure, Sun says. Even though she transferred her files to her computer, her tablet is still on and the codes slide across the screen, staring at her from her nightstand. She shoves the device into the drawer. When she slinks back to her seat in his lap, she can only bring herself to look at the wall past his head: the chipping latex paint and the metal bolts beneath. She shouldnt think about the nonsense output. Noise shows up from time to time, and pilots are trained to skim over it. Researchers havent decoded every type of gastorian thought, but they have decoded those relevant to piloting. Anything she cant read is simply a waste of time. Thankfully, the man below her is already erect, so she doesnt have to get her hands dirty. She lowers herself onto him slowly, exhaling. At the very least, the sensation is comforting in its familiarity. Sun Please dont talk, she says, finally. Youre ruining it. She closes her eyes as she rocks back and forth. Perhaps this feeling of fullness, like a warm stomach after a meal, could be mistaken for real affection. If only she could enjoy it, maybe she could forget the sound of Dossas voice over the radio, and maybe the birds neural outputs would stop sliding across the back of her eyelids. Didnt it seem deliberate? The same olfactory code, twice. An impossible smell. Thats how the birds talk to one another. Their pheromone language is one of the most complex in the animal kingdom. If a bird were to talk to anyone, wouldnt it try scents first? The man kisses the space between her neck and her ear, and she thinks, Fine. She thinks, Maybe hes on to something, so she sandwiches his face between her palms and kisses him. Their teeth clink together. He lets his thick fingers worm into her hair.What if she were kissing Indrani? Sun replaces the mans clumsy tongue with Indranis carefully manicured fingers picking their way over her teeth. Sun squeezes her eyes shut and decides that his tannic sweat is a new designer perfume. Last time she saw Indrani on a video call, it wasnt really Indrani. Sure the face looked the same, but that doesnt matter. Its like a worm crawled up inside of the woman Sun used to call her wife and now stares out through the holes of her eyes. Sun cant shake the uncanny feeling of looking into the holes and feeling nothing at all. She finds that shes gripping the mans shoulders tightly and that he shudders when her nails dig into his skin. Would it help if she hurt him? She would like to disappear into that animal version of herself, but when she tries (claws, teeth, tongue), his noises make her grimace. Shes embarrassed for him and embarrassed for herself for pretending at all. Would another student imagine she were with Dossa? The handsome teacher: older, wiser, gentler. Last she saw him, she had just rushed back to the atrium, helmet in hand. The doors swung open and Dossa stalked past silently, face obscured by the tint of his visor. Hes going to talk to her about the incident tomorrow, but the wait makes it worse. Youre too deep into your training now to make mistakes like this, hell say. When youre an established pilot, therell be no one to save you. Youre lucky you still have someone to clean up your messes. When Sun had been assigned to Dossa, he was surprised to learn that she was married. Before that, all of her instructors had warned her that she and Indrani would split up by the end of the academic year. Their protests only made her cling to Indrani harder. Was it spite? The two of them spoke every day after Suns lectures; when visitation hours arrived, she covered Indrani in claw marks, tore out her hair and kept it beneath her pillow until the sheets smelled like saffron. Sun never loses. After all, out of her class of fifteen students, only she and one other graduated to flighted mentors. Dossa claims he doesnt miss his life before the bird, but he had to have been a normal man at one point or another, right? Sun knows he was a soldier when he was young and that his lover was his brother-at-armsshe thinks she knows what kind of a love he and Dossa had because once Sun said, Before this, I wanted to swallow Indrani whole, and Dossa, finally, didnt look at her with pity. He nodded, looked to the window, and swished his drink between his cheeks. Yeah, he said, because he knew. There is a specific kind of person suited for gastorian piloting and a specific kind of love. Suns love for Indrani was her prototype. She hears a sound that reminds her of a wounded animal. The hair along her spine stands straight up. For the first time, she really sees the man beneath her. His odor becomes sulfurous. Her fingers slide into the damp meat of his abdomen. As his mouth opens, she sees the yellow plaque that coats the surface of his lolling tongue. With a gasp, she stumbles out of the bed, bare feet slapping against the floor. The nighttime silence bears down on her shoulders. He braces himself up on his elbows. All she can see are his eyes: glassy, dog-like in their blackness. Is something wrong? he asks. You should go, Sun whispers. What? Why? I want you to leave. She retreats to her office chair. Back to him, she listens for the sound of his clothes rustling and feels the coldness of his shadow falling over her as he heads towards the door. Hes muttering under his breath. Bitch. Shes on her feet in an instant, her nails biting into her fists. Dont fucking call me that. The door slams shut behind him. A draft plays across Suns bare skin. Somehow, she feels more exposed now. Still shaking, she goes to her desk and switches on her computer monitor. The neural output is still there. Its always there; she couldnt bring herself to even close the program. She cant even sit down, so she leans against the back of the chair, looming over the jumbled mess of characters and staring until they swim across her vision. Im afraid of you, she admits. She picks up a stylus and bites the end of it. Its been so long since shes really had to translate gastorian neural outputs. She has memorized the important codes, which is the only way she can interpret for the crew so quickly. But for each olfactory or pheromone code, the characters correspond to the chemical makeup of the compound, which has already been filtered and analyzed through the birds stomata. Turning on red markup, she writes on the touchscreen, isolating the olfactory codes from the rest of the nonsense output. With her other hand, she types her notes on her tablet. She puts the pieces together like a jigsaw puzzle. The amount of hydrogen ions and carbon rings, each potential spot for a methyl group or a double bond to an oxygen molecule. It feels like stretching a cramped muscle, atrophied with disuse, and before long the document is covered in red. She narrows the olfactory codes to a few potential configurations, which she searches up in their piloting database. Geraniol. Damascone. Rose oxide. She pauses, squints. Rose perfume? Sun leans on the wall outside of Dossas office, half of her face buried in a scarf. On her tablet, she executes and terminates the neural analysis program absently until a notification makes her heart leap. She thinks it must be from Dossa, but instead its a video from Hati. His hatchling floats in a depressurized glass chamber. Shes not surprised Hati has a lab in the zero-gravity unit. A metal claw holds out a strip of meat, and the hatchling snatches it with dizzying speed, tossing its head back to swallow it whole. Beak wide open, the teeth-like papillae lining its tongue catch the light. Hazy gas escapes in wisps from its sublingual pores. Someone laughs. Hungry today? Hati says from off-screen. Sun has never heard him speak like that. Like hes smiling. All four of the hatchlings eyes are open and clear, still baby bird blue, and theres a spot just behind its nares, in the same place as Suns bird. What if this hatchling is already grown up by the time her bird dies? Itll be like it never left. The video spins around to Hati. Hati has always been pretty, but theres a new quality to his face when the pale glow of the incubators UV lights reflects off his skin. Womanish and hen-like. Sun lets herself smile back. You should visit us, he says. Down the hall, heavy footsteps echo. The lights are on a twelve-hour cycle, so she cant make out his face, but she knows its Dossa. He stops by her side, shoulder-to-shoulder against the wall. Do you know how late it is, Sun? Im sorry, Dossa. She sucks on her lip. She doesnt have a script for how she wants to approach this conversation, and when she tries to think of what she wants to say, she sees Hatis hatchling instead and the hatchling from the capture and the flock from Miphre blotting out the sky. Do you think she starts. Do you think our bird likes it here? It takes a second for Dossa to respond. We meet every standard of gastorian care. No, notnot that bullshit. I mean, do you think it likes piloting? Is it happy in there? Does it remember being taken? Something unreadable crosses his face. Sun tries to rub the chill out of her arms. Its best not to ask questions like that, he says, stooping down to eye level. Nothing good comes of this. With a sigh, she nods, and says, You need to look at this. She opens the neural outputs, hands the tablet to Dossa. The pressure from her fingers makes the screen flicker. What is this? Its from todays flight. Sun . . . She doesnt know how long she can bear to hear him talk like that. He has to believe hershe feels it in her bones. She and Dossa are the same; Indrani and his nameless lover, the same. He has to understand. Just look at it, she says. He peers over his glasses as he reads. A first-year student could look at this and tell you its just noise, Dossa says. Is this why you excused yourself? We received this olfactory code right after you released the neutralizing gas. The bird shouldnt have been able to smell anything. So it was remembering a smell. This has happened before! Desperation drags tears to her eyes, which she furiously blinks away. Stealing the tablet back,she scrolls to the end of the output. The same scent, from two days ago. We werent even flying. She watches Dossas eyes roll across the screen. The cold light makes him shockingly pale, ghostly. Old. Did anything strange happen after you took over? she asks, haltingly. Anything. Anything at all. No. He scrolls, reading more deliberately now. She wraps her arms around herself. When she speaks next, its in a whisper. What if its only giving these messages to me? Messages? He switches off the screen with a sense of finality that makes Sun feel as if shes been slapped. Sun, do you hear yourself? You dont think this is strange? The pause he takes stretches for too long. Sun can hear her heart pounding in her ears. You arent acting like yourself, he says. A realization washes over her like shower water cold enough to make her chest ache. He thinks shes crazy. She sinks back against the wall, meeting the gaze of the wall opposite of her, unblinking. Were resuming normal flights once we leave the station, Dossa says. Exploratory flights. Flights where small errors in calculations could leave the ship destroyed by asteroids, by magnetic storms, by the iron-clad astral cetaceans that eat gastor whole. I need you prepared. Do you understand? She nods. Dossa shifts his weight and the floor creaks beneath him, like hes about to leave, but he stays for another moment, staring at the same spot on the wall as she is. For what its worth, he says, we took you up here, too. You left your family behind. But youre meant to be here, Sun. Youre happy. Arent you? Sure, she says. I am. Are you? He exhales, puts a hand on her shoulder, and squeezes. Sure. Sun ties herself to the Daughters hand and sits cross-legged above the aluminum palm, the monitor in her lap. My sister loved roses, Sun says. Sometimes she made scents herself by picking roses from her garden and steeping the petals in oil. Thats why I cant find anything that smells quite like her. Her bird floats far out of reach, but it stirs at the sound of her voice. Behind pink clouds of its own making, its undulating silhouette draws nearer. But my wife smells like saffron, Sun says, although it feels like a lie. How could she know? Its been years since shes smelled Indranis skin. She spends too much money on perfume. The monitor clicks on and already, lines of code fill the screen. She lets her hand drift across the surface, scrolling past. The bird places its head between the apparatus thumb and index finger. Messinas Third Daughter wears rings studded with rubies and emeralds. Even the texture of the skin has been meticulously carved into the metal; gold vermeil remains in the crevices of the fingerprints and the edges of the nail beds. Where the skin has not been worn smooth, Sun finds little gastorian motifs curled across the knuckles and reflected in the birds eyes. May I? Sun asks, holding out a hand. Her bird doesnt move. She presses her hand flat against its beak, which is shockingly cold to the touch. She stays there for a moment, feeling her pulse swell up against her bird. It is a rare pleasure to touch it. The monitor chimes again, and Sun returns to it reluctantly. Under the gaze of her bird, she takes notes on the scents at the end of the output. First, the rose perfume again. Secondly, safranal. And thirdly She recognizes the last code immediately. Its a pheromone used by a submissive bird to appease one higher in the pecking order or by a hatchling to a mother. The sight of these characters fills Sun with a reactionary unease. Shes never considered herself either of those things: a superior, a motherto her bird? Theres something unnatural about the thought, perverse, shameful enough to make her ears grow hot. The bird could have a century on her. It may die before her; it may outlive her. She has no way of knowing. OhOh no, this isnt me, she stutters. Can it even understand her? She feels, suddenly, like shes losing her mind, so she presses her fingertips into the warm skin beneath its eyes. It has to know. It has to. As she clings to this threadbare line of communication between them, she imagines that it too has clawed itself toward her with the same desperation. The bird turns away, dorsal stomata flared open as it snakes up towards the top of the chamber. The same pheromone appears on the monitor, again and again. If not her, she thinks, then who else? [TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 2 NEXT WEEK] About the Author Lowry Poletti is a Black author, artist, and veterinary student from New Jersey. They write a variety of fantasy, scifi, and horror fiction unified by their fascination with gore. When they arent writing about monsters and the people who love them, they can be found wrist deep in a formalin-fixed lab specimen. Their other pieces appear in Strange Horizons, Baffling Magazine, and Fantasy Magazine. You can find more of their work on their website: lowrypoletti.wordpress.com. Adamant Press Please visit Lightspeed Magazine to read more great science fiction and fantasy. This story first appeared in the February 2025 issue, which also features short fiction by Andrew Dana Hudson, Seoung Kim, Eugenia Triantafyllou, Carolyn Ives Gilman, Kristina Ten, David DeGraff, and more. You can wait for this months contents to be serialized online, or you can buy the whole issue right now in convenient ebook format for just $4.99, or subscribe to the ebook edition here. Want more io9 news? Check out when to expect the latest Marvel, Star Wars, and Star Trek releases, whats next for the DC Universe on film and TV, and everything you need to know about the future of Doctor Who.