A high quality speculative fiction zine. Good writing, great artwork, cool style. Contributors have included Rudy Rucker, Paul Di Filippo, Peter Lamborn Wilson, and Charles Platt (sheesh, these guys are everywhere). Editor Glenn Grant is also an accomplished cartoonist who pens an episode of Genetic Lunarian for each issue. Look for bright stars in these heavens.
After a year-long silence, ED is back with vengeance. Issue #3 contains excellent new fiction by Lyle Hopwood, Yves Meynard, and Stephane Banfi along with the usual editorials and reviews. This is by far one of my favorite zines of speculative fiction.
(G. Branwyn)
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This isn't simplicity, no smooth easy drive, can't you hear the strain? - death waits
James Bailie, London, Ontario:
As the soldiers pack the last wave of peasant workers into the blue trucks for delivery to the sleep camps, as the twelve slivers of the nightdome begin their creeping treks across the twilight sky, and the pterodactyl patrols wend their lazy ways above the city streets, I ponder the two black specks on the walkway fifty stories below my living room windows. Is that a foot patrol? The dots begin leap frogging each other going north. Yes it is. I don't think I like this universe. I wonder when we can go back home. I'll have to talk to Jimmy again, see if I can get a straight answer from him. What's this on the table? A letter:
5:01 AM DST INSOMNIA
Gleeg,
Did I go insane, or did I just a scant two hours ago, see in the window of Coles downtown a book entitled Tek War by William Shatner? It looked extremely Seventies-ish. A small hazy, translucent bust of the author was on the cover painting looking down concernedly 'pon two characters on a pastel planet. Gee, I hope they get through that opus in one piece. The characters that is. Imagine if Willy was God! Or even if his head just floated in the clouds all the time, looking after us. Wouldn't life be much simpler? Comforting.
A young gentleman on the street corner just asked me if "I wanted a blow job." Coming home from my midnight ramble. I'm afraid I disappointed him. With my refusal.
"Tek-War" spelled backwards is "Raw-Ket."
...Why can't I sleep? I didn't murder Duncan.Me thought I heard a voice say: "McJimmy shall sleep no more for McJimmy has murdered sleep!"
Did you know that the first recorded usage of the word "obscene" in English was in Will Shake's plays? How 'bout that?
Anyway, those pterodactyl screams must mean that the cops are on to me. Got to goad.
Later, during a lull, he got a vial of milky white stuff and said, "You have to have a hit of Nitrochrome." And I went sick with fear. Everybody's different: some, like me, can only make it surrounded by flashing colibri-lights, joss, sweat, feedback and amyl, which I could provide in my gaff. Some, like Nile, only make it with Nitrofreaks, and though my mind was hammering Dead Guy, Dead Guy, I took the proffered snort, and turned into a smoking ruin.
- Lyle Hopwood, "Milk"
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