You are listening to a Clarksville magazine podcast. I'm your host and narrator, Kate Baker. Welcome to the first story for the month of August, 2025, issue 227.

I hope this podcast finds you, as always, as well as can be. I want to thank you for spending this time with us as we bring you yet another month chock full of wonderful stories of the art of the podcast and of the nonfiction.

And just as a reminder, this is all brought to you by you, your support.

So if you can go to patreon.com forward slash Clarksworld or ClarksWorld or chalk a few bucks are away via support. So if you can go to patreon.com forward slash clarksworld or clarksworld citizens.com or

chalk a few bucks our way via a subscription. Every little bit counts. And if you already have been

doing that or you're new or you've maybe done it in the past, thank you so much. We

simply cannot do this without you. Our first story for the month of August is titled

A Shaky Bridge and is by Marissa Lingan. Marissa Lingen is a freelance writer who lives in

Minneapolis suburbs with her family. She is the author of over 200 works of short science fiction

and fantasy and has no intention of stopping anytime soon.

Her interests include community connection and SFF, particularly including people of all ages and abilities and portrayals of worlds that illuminate our own changing climate needs.

She also likes to make nerds laugh.

So my dear listener, I hope you can sit back, relax, and let me tell you a story.

Afterward, no one and Casey's family could say when their feelings about the neural bridge

implants started to sour. None of them. Casey least of all.

Wanted to see the signs at first.

Humans are extremely good at not seeing things they don't want to see,

and the neural bridge had been the next thing to miraculous after her father's stroke,

restoring his speech without even a week of therapy or a hint of a slur,

letting him walk against subtly without a cane. But gradually,

she couldn't help but notice that her mother was pale, had more lines around her mouth, and was

less likely to speak, but more likely to snap or cry than previously. And finally, she took her

...