The first three stories in the fifth issue of Forgotten Worlds showed great promise, but unfortunately, that promise isn’t quite fulfilled.

In the lead story, Jamie Killen’s “Channel 7,” we see a unique sort of alien invasion that could be funny to us Earthlings if it wasn’t so menacing. First, the little blue aliens Gas the humans whose cities are about to be invaded, which leaves the humans in a hippie-like state of uncaring bliss (or at least calm): Britain’s prime minister shows up for work wearing surf shorts and a stained undershirt, the dictator of North Korea declares a nationwide policy of nudism. Then the cities are Squished, meaning they disappear under a big “gooey blue dome.” The dome is impenetrable, so no one knows exactly what is happening beneath them, though “expert” theories abound.

The story is told as a reporter’s ongoing narration, with a lot of wondering about what goes on in the Squished cities. The action picks up when the aliens converge on the reporter’s city too…but then concludes abruptly with a common trope that is frustratingly inconclusive. Killen did a nice job of leading us to a climax that promised some surprising and entertaining answer for what the aliens were doing, but then lets go of the story.

Neil Carstairs’s “Down to a Sunless Sea” has some lovely writing in a story that apparently takes place in a future Italy, where the Umbria region has become some sort of prison or restricted area. What sort of restricted area, though, isn’t clear, although the characters are criminals, including one murderer. We know that one of the characters, Solina, wants to end her pain with death, and the murderer in the group is willing to do the job as a mercy stroke. But while brevity in a short story is generally a good thing, here the story suffers from a lack of details; the author promises a vast world and a large story in these few pages, but sets all that aside for the pain of a character barely met and who, because of that brevity, is difficult mustering feelings for. The ending wasn’t a surprise, but that needn’t have been an issue; it’s well written, just too sudden. This had the potential to be a powerful piece, but the feeling of being rushed dissipated that power before it could strike.

Next, Eric Hermanson’s “The Thief of Life” is a dark tale about a small statue of El Ladron de Vida, “The Thief of Life,” a “rare, little known deity, a minion of the Lord of the Dead.” Found in a cave in Mazatlan by a hunter of the arcane, Ed Aguirre—who manages to get it all the way home before finally coming to a gruesome end—the statue winds up in the possession of Tommy and Clara Stidium, who recognize its menace enough that they don’t need to be told to (though Ed begs them to) destroy it, or at least bury it far away. When next we see Tommy and Clara, they’re rowing a boat out to the sea, the worn victims of nightmares and voices brought on by the statue, as they’re preparing to toss the statue into the water and be rid of it forever.

Most of the story had a strong voice and narrative; the charge to get rid of the statue—essentially a heavy geas laid upon the Stidiums—was well done with its sense of foreboding and the possibility of a quick (or not so quick) doom. Rowing the boat out to sea is the easy part; they are also wrestling with the statue’s fervent desire to protect itself. But all that buildup being the case, the author undid the story’s power with a too-easy ending carrying no lasting consequences for the Stidiums. The statue was, after all, an ancient evil that had already killed someone who was not ignorant of the arcane. This was disappointing, because otherwise Hermanson kept me hanging on until the very end.

“Courting Hell” by Marlo Dianne is an entertaining spin on the trope of “What are the old gods up to these days?” Osiris, Hades, Arawn, and another somewhat less-well-known god, Glooscap (of the Algonquin), are gathered about a 1970’s vinyl kitchenette discussing the business of the underworld—all agreeing that things are in a slump now. Over the course of the deities’ patter, Glooscap comes to realize that he should marry, but it seems the only available female god is Hel, who has been single for ages (literally) for good reasons, not the least of which is a—um, startling appearance.  Glooscap woos her in a manner admittedly more practical than romantic—which is just as well, considering that Hel isn’t much of a romantic herself—but also rather sweet in its own way, or as sweet as worn-out gods can manage. Otherwise, the tale is a good bit of fun with a happy ending.

Editor Graeme Penman singles out Kirsten Lincoln’s story, “The Last Moments of Rapture and Peak,” in the introduction, and with good reason.  It’s clearly the strongest story of this issue. The science fiction tale introduces us first to a floating corpse, formerly known as Aaron Rapture, who may or may not have been murdered by Galilei Station’s immature AI, Kosuke. In short order, we find another corpse named Peak in similar suspicious circumstances. The investigator is a Linker, able to communicate with Kosuke—no easy thing in itself and made that much harder by the fact that she once had to “disengage” (some people called it killed) another AI named Ariel. The more she investigates, the more twisted the story she discovers, a story laid out in small pieces one at a time, until she is inevitably faced with a life-altering decision.

“The Sounds We Make” by Joseph Fullam is about a little girl, Andrea, who hears certain musical notes in relation to people. Her Mom is a C, for instance, which is nice, but then her Dad becomes a D-sharp, and that strikes her as something worrisome, something bad. It worries her enough that she lies to her father and says that he is a D. The ending is cute, consistent both with the tone of the story (sorry!) and the way Andrea interprets the world around her.

“The Other Short Guy Syndrome” by M.J. Danville starts with a narrative description of the rise of one Albert “Shorty” Schumacher, whose “Short Man Syndrome” led him to work that much harder and be that much more ingratiating to those around him to rise to the top of whatever he attempted. At about the point where he is trying to ask out his beautiful co-worker,Julie, but can’t quite manage it, he discovers a new brownie icon on his computer that has apparently written a smashingly good work report for Albert. Albert quickly learns that this Short Guy has magical properties, and success follows on its heels—not just climbing the corporate ladder at a lightning pace but also making good at a fast clip with Julie as well.

There is, of course, a price to pay, and even Julie knows more than she’s telling. Here I had one problem with the story: Albert discovers the edges of this price when he discerns a problem with the company books that could land him in jail, though the story is never clear about what the problem is or, more importantly, why he never discovered such a major issue (or issues) before. But I shrugged this off as Albert obliviously wallowing in his success. Eventually, Albert and Julie do manage to get rid of the elfin magic and swim back to the surface on their own when things nearly crash around them—only to learn not long afterward that the Short Guys aren’t gotten rid of so easily. Overall, this was a nice story of traditional magic and sharp-edged bargains in a contemporary setting.

And finally, “The Fundamentals” by James Targett tells the story of Troy, who is enjoying the benefits of an affluent society in the future—mainly nanites that can keep him healthy all of the time—until they suddenly don’t. He gets ill with what appears to be a horrific flu virus, and he isn’t the only one.  It seems that nearly everybody everywhere is getting it too. Hospitals are swamped until even nightclubs become triages.   Businesses shut down, and the streets empty of everyone except the poor (who still get sick anyway) and those in biohazard suits. The disease makes its greatest impact, not from his own illness, but when he realizes that Zee, the woman he loves, has it too, and they snuggle up together in an embrace that Troy knows full well could be their last in life or the last in the world they knew.

Eventually, Troy finds out the virus’s cause, and here, Targett highlights the dangers of zealotry mixed with a lack of human compassion that is completely antithetical to the zealot’s religion. The reason seems almost anticlimactic.  How he changed, and how the world changed—and didn’t change—becomes the focus at the story’s end. “The Fundamentals” was a contender for the strongest story in the issue, and definitely an excellent choice to be this issue’s finale.

On a technical note, the magazine does not indent paragraphs, which made reading it somewhat difficult for me. If this isn’t an issue for you, then no worries.