Diabolical Plots Lineup Announcement! (from July 2024 Window)

written by David Steffen

Hello! I am here to announce the original stories that were chosen from the general submission window that ran in July 2024.

First, some stats:
# of Stories Submitted: 1323
# Rejected (First Round): 1220
# Rejected (Final Round): 57
# Withdrawn: 15
# Disqualified: 2
# Rewrite Requests: 6
# Accepted: 23

Note that the overall numbers might include some authors twice in some circumstances. This can happen if an author withdraws before any of the first readers read it, they are allowed to submit another story in its place. Also, if a submission becomes a rewrite request, if the author submits the rewrite while the window is still open then the rewrite would become a second submission to the window. Or a combination of these could make several submissions for a single author.

The overall submission count is lower than the previous window by about a hundred, but there was still plenty of great stories to choose from, enough that we had to send rejection letters for many stories we would have been happy to publish.

This year we recruited a new first reader team because our first reader team carrying over from year to year had grown smaller over a couple years as some first readers got busy with other life things and couldn’t come back. The team with a bunch of new members worked their way through the queue with amazing speed while giving each story the same full opportunity as every other story–many hands make light work. This helped keep the window flowing as the editors never had to wait for a submission to have two votes on it (as you can tell by this announcement coming out almost 6 weeks earlier than last year’s announcement despite the window running about the same time of the year!). Our first readers are an amazing crew and we appreciate their immense help! Check out our staff page for a partial list of our first readers if you want to learn more about them!

If you have any comments or questions feel free to comment here or to send us a message through our contact form.

Changes Since the Last Window

We did have a few relevant changes to the submission system software since the last submission window.

In previous years, we did occasionally request rewrites from authors if we thought a story was almost an acceptance and we had something specific and concrete that we could request that (if the author was interested) could move it to become an acceptance. This was always handled outside of the submission system, where one of the editors would mark it as a Rejection but would edit the rejection letter to request chances and invite the author to send in changes. Changes in these cases were generally handled by having the author email one or more of the editors directly, and wasn’t handled by the submission system at all, which made it harder to keep track of, harder to collaborate on (need to forward it to other editors for them to see rather than being in a central location).

After the window last year, just before posting the summary, the submission system has been set up now so that a submission can be marked with the terminal status of Rewrite Request. When a Rewrite Request response is sent, it automatically also includes a special one-time resubmit link. The author can use this at any time. They can use it during the same window, which will bypass the usual one-submission-per-window limit. They can use it when there is no submission window. The link expires after a year (just for data cleanup purposes) but we can regenerate a link after that year on request. When a submission comes back into the system it will be treated somewhat differently, such as notifying both the Editor-In-Chief and the requesting editor. It will also bypass the usual requirement for two first readers to vote on it before it’s resolved, because it has already been seen by editors and was of interest enough to cause a Rewrite Request result. In addition, the submission system links to both the current text and the original text so the editors can compare what has changed if they like.

We also added the ability to handle solicitations to authors through the system. We occasionally solicited authors before, but it was always handled entirely out of the system which again made it harder to coordinate and keep track of it. This works very similarly to the Rewrite Request, producing a one-time link. The main difference is that a solicitation can be generated out of nowhere instead of requiring an existing submission record to start from.

And, since last year we added to the submission form an option for the author to enter Content Notes for the first reader team. We’d tried this in a previous year but had gotten some feedback on the way it was implemented that prompted us to pause the idea and come back to it later when we had time to take the feedback into account. Content Notes are never required but are appreciated! Our first reader team appreciates having a heads up on things like whether the story has the death of a pet, or spousal abuse, or things like that: that way a first reader can either brace themselves for it, or can choose to skip over it if they choose to and let another first reader who is more ready for that to handle it. When our first readers are often reading dozens of stories a week (sometimes even more!) that it can be very taxing to walk into stories with some topics without having a head’s up first and these content notes are very helpful. Authors, though not required to do this, seemed to use it very conscientiously, as stories that our first readers thought should have a warning usually had a relevant warning. So we appreciate authors participating in this when they are able!

The Lineup

The Witches Who Drowned
by R.J. Becks

On the Effects and Efficiency of Birdsong: A Meta-Analysis
by F.T. Berner

The Unfactory
by Derrick Boden

The Glorious Pursuit of Nominal
by Lisa Brideau

Irina, Unafraid
by Anna Clark

The Statue Hunt
by E. Carey Crowder

The Matador and the Labyrinth
by C.C. Finlay

Please Properly Cage Your Words
by Beth Goder

The Rat King Who Wasn’t
by Stephen Granade

In His Image
by R. Haven

The Interview
by Tim Hickson

Paths, Littlings, and Holy Things
by Somto Ihezue

The Year the Sheep God Shattered
by Marissa Lingen

Resurrection Scars
by Sheila Massie

Application For Continuance: vMeet Restroom Utility (RedemptionMod)
by Ethan Charles Reed

Will He Speak With Gentle Words?
by A.J. Rocca

Laser Eyes Ain’t Everything
by Effie Seiberg

(Skin)
by Chelsea Sutton

When Eve Chose Us
by Tia Tashiro

The Octopus Dreams of Personhood
by Hannah Yang

The Saint of Arms
by Mason Yeater

Skin as Warp, Blood as Weft
by Lilia Zhang

Our Lady of the Elevator
by Shiwei Zhou


DP FICTION #38A: “Giant Robot and the Infinite Sunset” by Derrick Boden

Giant Robot stands alone on the battlefield. Its hulking titanium shoulders slouch. Its articulated polymer knees bow inward. Its blazing fiberoptic gaze falters, downturned. But Giant Robot experiences neither regret nor remorse while surveying the wreckage at its feet.

It knows only aloneness.

Giant Robot scours the battlefield. It scrutinizes the meat and metal carcasses that litter this desert torched to glass. Servos click a nervous rhythm beneath its knuckled joints. It relocates corpses with the utmost delicacy, but still they crumble in its hands. Underneath, there is only ash. Its gaze sags—

There. A patch of sand between two corpses, shielded by an overturned transport. A desert bloom sprouts, an improbable splay of color. Lavender? Periwinkle?

No. Amethyst.

Blood glazes the corpses’ caved chests, the crimson an unlikely complement to the orphaned flower. Giant Robot commits the image to memory.

Jean would be pleased.

A breeze whistles through a nearby bunker. Each ruptured window offers its own harmonizing tone: a pipe organ of sandbag, plaster, and wind. The western sky flares a brilliant orange.

No. Tangerine.

Giant Robot commits it to memory. Despite the glut of battlefield data it has collected, Giant Robot is still mostly empty.

It presses on, in search of companionship.

Giant Robot is hard on the outside: titanium carapace, thermoplastic sensor shields, kevlar joints. Giant Robot is soft on the inside: silicone insulation, solid state circuitry. Only Jean knows the passcode to Giant Robot’s insides. Only Jean knows where to apply a wrench and where to employ a delicate touch.

It has been three days since Jean last touched Giant Robot’s insides.

Giant Robot’s feet crush everything in its path. Canteens burst like balloons. Bones crumble to dust. Tank shells rupture. Giant Robot has not mastered the skill of walking delicately.

Electromagnetic activity spikes in sector seven. A new threat approaches.

A companion.

The threat advances rapidly: now active on infrared, now visual. It screams through the air ten meters above the battlefield. Rail guns glisten against the setting sun: now marigold, now marmalade. Twin thrusters rend a trough of metal carnage. Dust eddies toward the horizon.

Giant Robot engages. The dance is awkward at first, a flurry of missteps and missed projectiles. But soon they achieve a rhythm: a tango of fist and plasma. The threat is fast. Lithe. Fast Robot begins to overpower Giant Robot.

Could this be the companion Giant Robot has sought?

As Fast Robot grinds Giant Robot against a trench of metal, Giant Robot plucks a tooth of glass from the personnel transport, reflects the cider-red sunset for Fast Robot to behold.  Fast Robot pays no heed to Giant Robot’s offering.

Fast Robot presses the attack.

Giant Robot wrestles free, dives toward the bunker. It swivels its pneumatic stabilizers, blasts a harmonic chord through the windows.

Fast Robot pays no heed. It launches into the air, lands on the desert blossom. Plasma arcs from its wrist-cannon. Giant Robot dodges, swings. Fast Robot’s parry suffers a microsecond delay as high-frequency data packets pelt it from a distant source.

Giant Robot casts its gaze down, crestfallen. Fast Robot is remotely controlled. A proxy. It will never know the colors Giant Robot knows.

The dance persists, though drained of its prior intensity. Seventeen maneuvers later, Fast Robot lies defeated. Smoke curls from ruined thrusters. Rail guns lie mangled.

The sky turns bronze, then rust.

Giant Robot does not know why Jean did what she did, but Command was not pleased. The things she put inside Giant Robot, they said, do not belong. The analyzers. The comparators. The recognition of a frescoed sunrise on descent from the drop ship. The mosaic of flowers during an autumn harvest. A precision of colors. Not blue sky. Cobalt. Not red blood. Wine.

These processes interfere with mission parameters, Command said. A millisecond’s slack in response time is the difference between victory and annihilation, they said. When Jean explained that these processes took mere microseconds, they court-martialed her. She would never again touch the insides of a robot, giant or otherwise.

But Jean thought ahead. She protected Giant Robot’s insides with her passcode. The sun still sets: now clay, now amber.

Giant Robot hesitates. Through a fissure in Fast Robot’s smoldering carapace, a familiar insignia. Command.

Rotors whir from the east. A drone hovers over the battlefield. It emits a high-frequency burst. It whispers the passcode to Giant Robot’s insides.

Jean.

Giant Robot’s chest plate swings open. The signal cleaves the firewall, enters the prefrontal processor.

Something’s wrong. This is not Jean’s delicate touch. This is harsh, callous. A violation. Someone has stolen Jean’s passcode.

Giant Robot tries to sever the connection but it’s too late. The drone buzzes toward the horizon. Giant Robot zooms in. Despite the distance, Giant Robot recognizes the model: this probe is from Command. Was the duel a test? Did Giant Robot fail?

Giant Robot’s carapace reseals, but something has changed.

It turns westward, detects only the dusty horizon. The sun will set in thirty-four seconds.

It scours the remains of the fallen, finds only a bodycount and the hollow acknowledgement of victory.

It stares at the face of a corpse, but cannot describe the color of her eyes.

Giant Robot has never been emptier.

Heat signatures register in sector nine. The next battle awaits. It turns—and hesitates. At its feet lies the mangled body of Fast Robot. A gouge of molten armor burns…just like…

A digital synapse arcs across a non-networked processor in the softest region of Giant Robot’s body. Giant Robot’s musculature trembles. Its eyes flicker.

Coquelicot. The ember is coquelicot: the first color Giant Robot ever learned. The color of Jean’s hair, tousled as she eased her diodes into Giant Robot’s soft insides for the first time. The hair that sprawled beneath her rigid body within her coffin, self-inflicted wounds sill fresh on her wrists.

Giant Robot grazes the coquelicot ember with an outstretched finger. It registers a surge of pain.

It turns, slightly less empty, and lumbers toward sector nine.

 


© 2018 by Derrick Boden

 

Author’s Note: A while back I was browsing the web looking for some fresh desktop background artwork, and I happened across a piece of original art that captured my attention so intensely I felt compelled to write about it.  The image was of a hulking metal robot, standing alone on a battlefield at dusk.  Something about the robot – the slope of its massive shoulders, maybe, or the position of its tiny eyes – felt so complex and sad.  It was a powerful piece of art, and I can only hope that this story does it justice.

 

Derrick Boden’s fiction has appeared in numerous online and print venues including Daily Science FictionFlash Fiction Online, and Perihelion.  He is a writer, a software developer, a traveler, and an adventurer.  He currently calls New Orleans his home, although he’s lived in thirteen cities spanning four continents.  He is owned by three cats.  Find him at derrickboden.com.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


If you enjoyed the story you might also want to visit our Support Page, or read the other story offerings.

Announcing the Diabolical Plots Year Four Fiction Lineup!

written by David Steffen

Diabolical Plots was open for submissions once again for the month of July, to solicit stories to buy for the fourth year of fiction publication.  1003 submissions came in from 720 different writers, of which 25 stories were accepted.  Now that all of the contracts are in hand I am very pleased to share with you the lineup, which will start as soon as the Year Three stories have wrapped up in March.

This year I think the overall submissions were more on-target to my peculiar tastes than ever.  Emphasis on the weird, with a lot of great stories that involve religion without preaching or demonizing it.  I am very excited to share these excellent stories with the world.

Since I accepted 25 stories instead of 24, there is one month that will have three stories (which I’d like to see as a regular thing if the recurring funding is there for it).

April 2018
“Giant Robot and the Infinite Sunset” by Derrick Boden
“Her February Face” by Christie Yant

May 2018
“The Efficacy of Tyromancy Over Reflective Scrying Methods in Divining Colleagues’ Coming Misfortunes, A Study by Cresivar Ibraxson, Associate Magus, Wintervale University” by Amanda Helms
“Graduation in the Time of Yog-Sothoth” by James Van Pelt

June 2018
“Tank!” by John Wiswell
“Withholding Judgment Day” by Ryan Dull

July 2018
“Crimson Hour” by Jesse Sprague
“Jesus and Dave” by Jennifer Lee Rossman

August 2018
“Medium Matters” by R.K. Duncan
“The Vegan Apocalypse: 50 Years Later” by Benjamin A. Friedman

September 2018
“Glass in Frozen Time” by M.K. Hutchins
“The Fisher in the Yellow Afternoon” by Michael Anthony Ashley

October 2018
“Pumpkin and Glass” by Sean R. Robinson
“Still Life With Grave Juice” by Jim Moss

November 2018
“The Memory Cookbook” by Aaron Fox-Lerner
“The Coal Remembers What It Was” by Paul R. Hardy

December 2018
“The Hammer’s Prayer” by Benjamin C. Kinney
“For the Last Time, It’s Not a Ray Gun” by Anaea Lay

January 2019
“The Divided Island” by Rhys Hughes
“The Man Whose Left Arm Was a Cat” by Jennifer Lee Rossman
“The Dictionary For Dreamers” by Cislyn Smith

February 2019
“Local Senior Celebrates Milestone” by Matthew Claxton
“How Rigel Gained a Rabbi (Briefly)” by Benjamin Blattberg

March 2019
“Heaven For Everyone” by Aimee Ogden
“The Last Death” by Sahara Frost