33 writers. 5 designers. 6-word science fiction. We’ll be brief: Hemingway once wrote a story in just six words ("For sale: baby shoes, never worn.") and is said to have called it his best work. So we asked sci-fi, fantasy, and horror writers from the realms of books, TV, movies, and games to take a shot themselves. Dozens of our favorite auteurs put their words to paper, and five master graphic designers took them to the drawing board. Sure, Arthur C. Clarke refused to trim his ("God said, ’Cancel Program GENESIS.’ The universe ceased to exist."), but the rest are concise masterpieces. Gown removed carelessly. Head, less so.
Failed SAT. Lost scholarship. Invented rocket.
Computer, did we bring batteries? Computer?
Vacuum collision. Orbits diverge. Farewell, love.
Automobile warranty expires. So does engine.
Machine. Unexpectedly, I’d invented a time
Longed for him. Got him. Shit.
His penis snapped off; he’s pregnant!
From torched skyscrapers, men grew wings.
Internet “wakes up?” Ridicu -
no carrier.
With bloody hands, I say good-bye.
Wasted day. Wasted life. Dessert, please.
“Cellar?” “Gate to, uh ... hell, actually.”
Epitaph: Foolish humans, never escaped Earth.
It cost too much, staying human.
We kissed. She melted. Mop please!
It’s behind you! Hurry before it
I’m your future, child. Don’t cry.
1940: Young Hitler! Such a cantor!
Lie detector eyeglasses perfected: Civilization collapses.
I’m dead. I’ve missed you. Kiss ... ?
The baby’s blood type? Human, mostly.
Kirby had never eaten toes before.
Rained, rained, rained, and never stopped.
To save humankind he died again.
We went solar; sun went nova.
Husband, transgenic mistress; wife: “You cow!”
“I couldn’t believe she’d shoot me.”
Don’t marry her. Buy a house.
Broken heart, 45, WLTM disabled man.
TIME MACHINE REACHES FUTURE!!! ... nobody there ...
Tick tock tick tock tick tick.
Easy. Just touch the match to
Special Web-only edition: We were unable to include these 59 stories in the print magazine. New genes demand expression — third eye.
K.I.A. Baghdad, Aged 18 - Closed Casket
WORLD’S END. Sic transit gloria Monday.
Epitaph: He shouldn’t have fed it.
Batman Sues Batsignal: Demands Trademark Royalties.
Heaven falls. Details at eleven.
Bush told the truth. Hell froze.
whorl. Help! I’m caught in a time
Nevertheless, he tried a third time.
God to Earth: “Cry more, noobs!”
Help! Trapped in a text adventure!
Thought I was right. I wasn’t.
Lost, then found. Too bad.
Three to Iraq. One came back.
Rapture postponed. Ark demanded! Which one?
Dinosaurs return. Want their oil back.
Bang postponed. Not Big enough. Reboot.
Temporal recursion. I’m dad and mom?
Time Avenger’s mistaken! It wasn’t me...
Democracy postponed. Whence franchise? Ask Diebold...
Cyborg seeks egg donor, object ___.
Deadline postponed. Five words enough...?
Metrosexuals notwithstanding, quiche still lacks something.
Brevity’s virtue? Wired saves adspace. Subscribe!
Death postponed. Metastasized cells got organized.
Microsoft gave us Word. Fiat lux?
Mind of its own. Damn lawnmower.
Singularity postponed. Datum missing. Query Godoogle?
Please, this is everything, I swear.
I saw, darling, but do lie.
Osama’s time machine: President Gore concerned.
Sum of all fears: AND patented.
Ships fire; princess weeps, between stars.
Mozilla devastates Redmond, Google’s nuke implicated.
Will this do (lazy writer asked)?
Cryonics: Disney thawed. Mickey gnawed. Omigawd.
WIRED stimulates the planet: Utopia blossoms!
Clones demand rights: second Emancipation Proclamation.
MUD avatars rebel: virtual Independence Day.
We crossed the border; they killed us.
H-bombs dropped; we all died.
Your house is mine: soft revolution.
Warskiing; log; prop in face.
The Axis in WWII: haiku! Gesundheit.
Salinger story: three koans in fountain.
Finally, he had no more words.
There were only six words left.
In the beginning was the word.
Commas, see, add, like, nada, okay?
Weeping, Bush misheard Cheney’s deathbed advice.
Corpse parts missing. Doctor buys yacht.
Starlet sex scandal. Giant squid involved.
He read his obituary with confusion.
Time traveler’s thought: "What’s the password?"
I win lottery. Sun goes nova.
Steve ignores editor’s word limit and
Leia: "Baby’s yours." Luke: "Bad news..."
Parallel universe. Bush, destitute, joins army.
Dorothy: "Fuck it, I’ll stay here."
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Joss Whedon
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