The Journal of Tomas Wicker November 3, 1910 There are a thousand ways to die in the Colombian rainforest. I first gained this appreciation as a boy when, in a questionable bit of parental inspiration, father allowed me to accompany him to inspect our family’s South American holdings,...

β€œHold the head steady, Mr. Walker, I don't want to cock this up.” Swelling waves cause the ship to roll beneath my feet as I do my best to follow Professor Olik's order. Unfortunately, the ox is not cooperating, and pulls jerkingly against the rope...

β€œHouston, come in. This is UN Space Station Libra. Come in, Houston.” No reply, just like every other time. I throw the receiver in disgust, the weightless environment causing it to float mockingly in front of my face at the end of its retention strap. I'm...