Month: November 2011

My science fiction story with a rather long title, “The Android Who Became a Human Who Became an Android,” has been reprinted in the Russian magazine, Esli, which roughly translates as “If” in English.  It was originally published in Analog in September 2010.

I got my contributor copy in the mail over the weekend, mailed all the way from Moscow, and it’s a sweet looking magazine.   First time I’ve been printed in Russian, as far as I know.  Only problem?  I can’t read a word of it.  They even translated my name!  The only way I was able to tell which story was mine was the copyright notice at the end of the story, which was in English.  Another weird moment in being a writer.

By the way, you can now buy this story individually to read in electronic format at Amazon, B&N, or, at Smashwords.com.  It’s a longish tale, nearly short novel length, so it’s a good deal for only 99 cents.  Here’s the blurb and the cover:

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The Android Who Became a Human Who Became an Android
by Scott William Carter

It ain’t easy being a private investigator in a galaxy that spans thousand of worlds – especially when you make the mistake of putting your heart on the line. When an old flame of Dexter Duff’s shows up out of the blue, claiming her rich husband is missing, Duff has mixed feelings about getting involved. She’s willing to pay top dollar, though, and like usual, Duff is broke. The case turns even stranger when it turns out her husband, who was once an android, became a human for her sake through a costly and risky procedure – and then went back to being an android when she seemed happier with him the way he was before. Then he vanished without a trace.

Readers of this story may want to check out “The Bear Who Sang Opera,” another story featuring Dexter Duff, as well as other stories set in Carter’s Unity Worlds universe.

Available Now in Electronic Format:  Amazon | B&N | Smashwords

I’ve got a new story out in the latest Realms of Fantasy, “The Man Who Made No Mistakes,” which chronicles a black man with a unique time traveling ability who faces a wrenching ethical delimma.  It’s a longer story, approaching short novel length — a tale of race, murder, and the nature of sin, all wrapped into one.  It’s an idea I made a run at years ago but didn’t get quite right, and the idea stuck with me, so I made a fresh attempt at it.  It’s also accompanied by a stunning — and fitting — illustration by Billy Norrby.

The opening of the story is below.  You can subscribe to Realms of Fantasy or buy individual issues on their website.

The Man Who Made No Mistakes

Scott William Carter

It may have been the steady drone of the rain on the church roof, or it may have been the second bourbon he’d had with dinner, but Father Holder found himself dozing in the confessional.  His whole body was slumping against the heavy oak panels when the young man spoke.

“This won’t be your usual confession,” he said.

The voice jolted Father Holder awake — heart pounding, breath catching in his throat.  For a moment, looking through the thick gray mesh, he thought he’d dreamed the voice, that it was a fabrication concocted from a stomach full of beef stroganoff — but then the young man opened his eyes and Father Holder saw the bright whites, luminescent almost, surrounding a pair of penetrating dark pupils.  That’s when he realized the reason he was having trouble seeing his confessor was because the young man had skin nearly as black as the darkness.

“Oh my,” Father Holder said with a nervous laugh.  His heart was still thundering in his ears.  He also had an embarrassing line of slobber on his cheek, and he wiped it away with his sleeve.  “You do know how to make an entrance, son.”

“Sorry,” the young man said.  “I didn’t know you were sleeping.”

He had just a tinge of a Southern accent, but of a particular variety — Cajun, maybe?  It was barely there, like a radio playing faintly in another room.  Whoever he was, he certainly wasn’t from around here.  Of course, that was true of just about everyone in Las Vegas.

“I wasn’t asleep,” Father Holder said, even as he blinked away the bleariness in his eyes.  “Just resting my eyes a little.  I was — what time is it anyway?”

“Late,” the young man said.  “Very late.  Midnight almost.”

“Ah,” Father Holder sighed, and he was going to say that he should have closed the church an hour ago, but then he would have to admit he’d been nodding off.  Instead he said:  “Well.  I do need to be getting home here soon.  You didn’t start by asking for my blessing, son.  Did you really come to make a confession?”  He felt vaguely guilty for the accusatory tone, but he knew it was because he was feeling defensive.

“Yes.  Of a kind.”

“Of a kind?”

“Well . . . I didn’t ask for your blessing, Father, because I don’t think I sinned.  I did something awful, I guess, but I can’t see how it’s a sin.  I don’t know.  Maybe you can tell me.  All I know is it wasn’t a mistake.  I don’t make mistakes.”

Father Holder chuckled.  The young man didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Father Holder said.  “I assumed you were joking.”

“No.  I wouldn’t joke about this.”

“Hmm.”

“I just don’t make mistakes.  Even now, after everything, I can say it.  But maybe a mistake and a sin aren’t the same thing.  I guess that’s why I’m here.  That and to tell you my story — I want you to hear it.”

Continued . . .