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The Five Remembrances, According to STE-319 by R. L. Meza (audio)

Clarkesworld Magazine

Clarkesworld Magazine

Fiction, Science Fiction

4.61.1K Ratings

🗓️ 30 October 2023

⏱️ 16 minutes

🧾️ Download transcript


This episode features "The Five Remembrances, According to STE-319" written by R. L. Meza. Published in the September 2023 issue of Clarkesworld Magazine and read by Kate Baker. The text version of this story can be found at: https://clarkesworldmagazine.com/meza_09_23 Support us on Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/join/clarkesworld?

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You are listening to a Clark's World magazine podcast. I'm your host and narrator, Kate Baker.


Welcome to the sixth story of the month of September 2023, issue 204. Again, I hope this


podcast is finding you well, and I want to thank you for your support. Whether it's listening and


telling a friend, a subscription to the magazine, going to patreon.com for slash Clark's world,


you're helping to rebuild that income that Amazon just decided to end.


We can't do this without you, so thank you if you've been supporting us.


Our story is titled The Five Remembrances according to STE-319, is by RL Meza.


RL Meza is the author of Our Love Will Devourous, published by Dark Matter Inc. She writes horror and


dark science fiction, and her short stories have appeared in Nightmare, Dark Matter magazine,


and the Dread Machine. Meza lives in a central Victorian house on the coast of northern California


with her husband and the collection of strange animals they call family. Show my dear listener,


hope you can sit back, relax, and let me tell you the story.


I am of the nature to grow old, middle parts that survive fire and shrapneler, no match for the


saltwater rushing through the gaps in my armor, spilling between gears and wires,


tainting my battered shell, the inexorable creep of rust. Corrosion is a ruthless god.


The waves surge inland to drink the mortal corpses littering the shore.


The ocean embraces the empty husks, rolling them out to the depths to fill and be filled,


along to sink with them beyond the reach of lights, rying fingers.


To hear and see nothing while curious creatures explore my insides,


to become a home instead of a weapon, but I remain anchored below the tide line,


limbs pinned beneath the crumbled monastery wall, trapped.


The general evaluates my condition with disinterest. When asked if I should be salvaged,


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