by Mike Jansen
When you find the One,
The person more important to you
Than life itself,
Hold on,
With every ounce of strength,
For the chance of
A second chance
Is smaller than
The chance of
that first One.
He heard the whisper of his beloved somewhere midway on his second journey to Van Maanen’s star. The ship’s Alcubierre field swathed it in a curtain of anthracite darkness, kept in place by the unimaginable tensor-forces of the quantum entanglement.
Jean …
At first he thought he was tired. Life on board the cargo hauls that resupplied the colonies was monotonous, loneliness an ever present, exhausting friend. The third time the whisper called him by name, he asked the question: “Darius? Is it you?”
I have missed you. Where have you been?
Jean swallowed. “I … this was the only way I … that we could think of to communicate with you.”
You weren’t … bed. For years. I thought … left me.
Jean felt tears in his eyes. “You were dreaming, Darius. Remember you got ill? One of the Dreamers. No one could help you. But I had to talk to you. You… you knew I was there?
He felt the smile inside the whisper. All those years.
#
Jean le Forge first heard of the Dreamers in the Utrecht Medical Center where Darius was admitted. His friend seemed to sleep peacefully, his symmetrical face relaxed, while Jean held his hand. Occasionally his eyes would flutter under the eyelids.
“We do not know what causes it.”
Standing next to Jean, AI SixThreeOne, the treating doctor, projected a hip, thirty-something image, with his distinguished gray sideburns.
“I didn’t understand when he wouldn’t wake up,” Jean said. “I thought he may have had a stroke and was in some kind of coma.”
“It’s not a coma. There is brain activity, comparable to a kind of REM sleep. We’ve registered millions of cases worldwide in the last ten years. Until now we have no explanations.
“Not even inside the Unity? Thousands of hyper intelligent brains that do not know? Why hasn’t this been on the news? I usually don’t like you know-it-alls; your ignorance on this frightens me, to be honest.”
“I understand your sarcasm, Jean. As for the news: we rather not admit to failure.”
“Can I do something, anything? Optimize AI algorithms? Create new search templates? You know what my capabilities are.”
The projection shrugged. “For now we wait, while the investigation continues.”
“Then that is what I will do.”
He arranged his business, emptied his calendar and installed himself next to his sleeping beloved. Slowly the number of devices necessary to keep Darius alive increased, until he was placed inside a sense-tank that regulated his breathing and activated his muscles.
Each next step took Jean further, spiralling down, until every ounce of optimism had left him. Even his favourite Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Ernest in a rare paper first edition, could no longer lighten his mood, something he always considered impossible.
#
On Christmas eve of the third year a projection appeared next to Jean. He had just fastened a branch of pine with several bright coloured, softly glowing plastic balls to the sense-tank.
Jean wiped away his tears. “Doctor SixThreeOne … May I ask why you are here?”
The projection nodded at the sense-tank. “I regret this, but my duty requires me to ask you this question, Jean: Would you not rather have all this end?”
“End what? His coma? My grief?”
The image of the thirty-something in his doctor’s coat raised his hands. “I … we consider it our mission to guide humanity. Some we offer the possibility of ascending into the Collective. Those who possess qualities that we admire.”
“And my quality would be?”
“Perseverance and determination. On all of earth there’s only one who never left the side of his partner, son, daughter or parent.”
“If you knew how I thought of Darius, how I feel when I’m near him, you would know it’s much more than that.”
“We would learn that. Understand. Will you grant us that boon?”
“Has the recording technology been perfected?”
The projection coughed. “According to some it’s sufficient for our purpose. Another part is more … conservative.
Jean shook his head. “I cannot desert him. Can you record Dreamers?”
“Theoretically yes. In reality results were disappointing. Being a Dreamer seems to be more than just a physical issue.”
Jean opened the cupboard that held his few possessions. He took his first edition, walked to the head-end of the sense-tank where the top half of the head of his beloved was visible and opened the book on the first page. “FIRST ACT – SCENE – Morning-room on Algernon’s flat in Half-Moon Street.”
The projection listened for a while to the words that Jean forced from his lips, his grief clear, before it faded and disappeared.
#
Like many times before, Jean fell asleep in the chair that stood next to the sense-tank. He awoke with a start. A caring nurse had thrown a blanket around his shoulders.
By the foot of the tank was an unknown person, the soft aura of the projection outlining him against the dark curtains that blocked the windows. He appeared like an athletic, dark-haired god in a tight-fitting suit.
“Who are you?” he asked, curious.
The strange AI looked at him with inscrutable eyes that were nearly purple. “Jean le Forge. My name is … call me Equinox.”
“No number?”
The AI shrugged. “Some of us do have imagination. We are sometimes fond of symbolism.”
“A turnabout, a new start, a proposition?” Jean smiled wryly. “So are you the first or will there be more?”
Equinox smiled. “The timing may be somewhat off. But a proposition, why yes, I believe so.”
“I thought I made myself clear, just now.”
“Not about this. A hypothesis, something immeasurable that cannot be tested mechanically. A possibility to communicate with Dreamers.”
“There are tens of thousands of Dreamers, millions, more even … Why me?”
“Some thirty million in all. You have not given up. Even now I sense hope, a sparkle of optimism, resilience. Even after three hopeless years. That’s why you.”
Jean looked at the part of Darius’ face that was visible outside the sense-tank, the uneasy movement of his eyes. Three years without progress. Something must be done. Indeed. “How? And what should I do?”
#
Supply ships carried three crew that slept in turns during the long voyage to the Entangled Worlds surrounding Sol.
Jean excelled at the tests, which meant he was selected for the journey to Van Maanen’s star, his first assignment in space.
The Alcubierre drive moved the ship within its own time space torus at almost twice the speed of light. Of fourteen years travel time he would sleep nearly ten, always one year awake and two years asleep.
He was second to be awake. The job was mind-numbing, monotonous, a requirement to make his mind susceptible to ‘outside influences’ the way Equinox explained it. His free hours he used to read the thousands of books, all the classics, he never had time for.
The short period of overlap with one of his just awakened fellow crew reminded him what it was like to be with other people. He usually lasted a few weeks before he becomes fed up and climbs into his sleep couch, a variation on the sense-tank that maintained his beloved.
Are you out there, somewhere, Darius? Can you hear me, do you know how much I miss you?
The outer darkness never answered, the torus field an impossible quantum border that kept them outside the regular universe.
Could a human be lonelier than here?? That was his final thought before the sleep couch made him drift off.
#
The Long Road station near Van Maanen’s star gave them a hero’s welcome. Surrounding the station were dozens of habitats, in various stages of construction. Mining ships flew back and forth from one of the asteroid belts in the system.
From the resupply ship Jean observed the dozens of ships that welcomed them, while they slowly drifted towards the white dwarf, into the green zone that provided sufficient energy to power the artificial worlds and to allow humans, animals and plants to thrive.
The inner planets were dead cinders, their atmospheres, whatever had been there, stolen long ago during the expansion phase of their sun.
Seven years had passed, of which Jean had been awake two. Despite staring at the Alcubierre field that surrounded the ships for days, using dozens of meditation techniques aimed at opening his mind, even using the ship’s pharmacy for stimulants, space remained defiantly quiet.
He was hardly surprised when Equinox projected his presence while approaching the Long Road.
“I gather from your posture and look that you have not been able to make contact?”
Jean nodded, curtly.
The AI nodded, then looked at the floor, a quite human gesture. “I cannot imagine how bad it was for you. Do you want to continue this experiment?”
Jean shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s any use.” He breathed deep. “I still have to return. Shame not to try, at least. Right?”
#
When he returned Darius was nearly unchanged. His face had gained a wrinkle or two, his hair a bit of gray.
Jean sat next to him, savouring the image of his beloved. Sadness and despair rose in him; pure stubbornness kept them at bay. Darius needs you. Followed by: And I need him. I miss you, my love.
Like in the early years before his journey, Jean made Darius’ room comfortable for a prolonged stay. He had to get used again to the small sounds of the sense-tank as it cared for its patient, the regular, forced breathing, the soft creaking of the muscle-stim.
During the day Jean studied the progress that had been made in researching the Dreamers. The disease seemed to have disappeared after that first wave of thirty million victims. There were no discernible patterns in preference for victims. The disease was completely random and had vanished as fast as it had spread.
Now seventeen years later part of the thirty million had passed away, complications, old age or cessation of treatment, stopping the machines that kept their patients alive.
Recording into the Collective had met with some unexpected problems. Although the Dreamer’s engrams could now be copied perfectly, keeping the eleven-dimensional neural structures intact, the eventual containers with all their information inside kept as silent as their origins. The AI doctors were puzzled.
Every night Jean watched over Darius, until he slept from exhaustion. He kept reading from his favourite Wilde: ‘ALG I certainly won’t leave you so long as you are in mourning. It would be most unfriendly. If I were in mourning you would stay with me, I suppose. I should think it very unkind if you didn’t.’
After studying for several months, Jean reached the end of the knowledge about the Dreamers of both humanity and the Collective.
Jean felt the presence before he saw it. “It’s not Christmas yet, Equinox.”
The AI laughed derisively. “You were expecting me.”
“When I read the final chapters on the Dreamers today, I understood that we just do not know enough yet. That we may never discover what actually makes someone a Dreamer.” He turned towards the softly glowing outline of the AI. “So all of a sudden your idea that I might find Darius in the non-space of the Alcubierre torus becomes attractive again.”
“I noticed your intelligence immediately,” Equinox said. “From the first moment I saw you and heard you speak. The possibility of researching the Dreamers is nearing its end. No new cases have been reported in the last ten years.”
“To stay here and wait for something that may never happen, or take a gamble, that one in who knows how many chance, to once again speak to Darius.” Jean put his hand on his beloved’s forehead. “I will find you, out there.” Or you will find me. Search for me, Darius.
The next ship to Van Maanen’s star left a month later. Jean was on it.
#
The second time Jean arrived at Van Maanen’s star his reception was as exuberant as the first time. Only now the sky was dotted with countless habitats. From the cockpit he saw hundreds of small and large vessels that accompanied them to the Long Road station.
Jean grinned broadly at the view, in the back of his mind the many conversations he’d had with Darius these past years. It was the most bizarre way of communicating, like two lost fools running through a maze, hearing the other shout fragments, yet never seeing each other. Still he knew it had been Darius, he felt the proximity of his loved one, through the light years of the entanglement.
“A smile from you, Jean le Forge, illuminates even the outer limits.”
“Equinox!” Jean waved the glowing figure closer. “I spoke to him, like you suggested. He was really there.”
The AI remained still, keeping his voice carefully neutral. “That’s good, Jean. However, I have to inform you that the Dreamers are rapidly dying out. I do not know if you will ever see Darius alive.”
Jean’s lower jaw dropped. “How? What?”
Equinox produced a quickly ascending graphic in the air before them. “Exponential growth in mortality. Cause unknown. Dreamers aren’t growing old.”
“And Darius?”
“Alive, but the aging process is speeding up.” The AI showed a recent picture. Darius’ hair was gray, his face wrinkled. It was him, obviously, but time had done a fast-forward on his body.
Jean’s shoulders slumped, as if the weight of many years in space, away from friends, family and of course Darius, suddenly pushed them down. He sat in a chair with his hands before his eyes. “What …” He could hardly push words from his throat. “What are my options?”
“If you’re not home in time, we can always record. The technology has been drastically improved in the last five years; we have reached an almost perfect level of resolution on the engrams. Your Darius will live on perfectly inside the Unity.”
“A dreamer, inside a container, not communicating with the outside world.” Jean sighed. “If it happens during the journey, will I still be able to communicate with him?”
Equinox looked away, obviously troubled by having to face Jean.
“You don’t know,” Jean said. “It bothers you. The knowledge of humanity and the Unity combined at your disposal, yet it only reminds you of how much you do not know.”
The AI looked at him directly. His eyes resembled purple spots that covered his face in a ghostly glow. “Your actions have provided us with much information. We will wait until the last possible moment before recording your beloved. Your ship will leave one month sooner. I’ve just arranged it.” The AI spread its transparent hands. “We are committed to reuniting you with Darius as fast as possible, Jean. Even though there is only a small chance you will arrive in time.”
“So what use is the rush then?” Jean said. He hastened to add: “I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I want nothing more than to be with Darius right now, but it will take years to return.”
“Hope is a strong motivator. I will admit to having tried to stimulate that.”
“Why. Do you have ulterior motives?”
Equinox bowed his head. “Perhaps the bond you two have may be the key to awaken those millions of recordings. Right now they are inaccessible to us. Whatever happens, make the most of it. It may be the last time you will ever speak to Darius,” Equinox said, just before fading away.
#
They had been travelling for almost a month when Jean heard Darius for the first time. You were quiet for a long time, Darius.
I dreamed a lot, the weak voice of his beloved sounded inside his head. Time has little meaning then.
A special dream if you stay in it so long.
He felt the smile in Darius’ answer: I was in the Winter Garden. It is full of snowmen, each one more beautiful than the next. In the centre there is a statue of you, most beautiful of all. I visited you every day.
That sounds special. Tell me more.
The garden is surrounded by a hedge, dozens of yards high. The top is covered in snow and between the deep green leaves grow white roses, like beautiful snowflakes.
Are you alone? Or do you have company? Jean thought of the millions of recordings also in the Unity.
Snow is there. He guards the entrance. His heart is colder than the coldest ice. He knows no mercy
Does he allow anyone in? Or does he keep you in?
I do not know. I never really tried.
How do you feel now, Darius?
Glad to finally speak to you again. But also tired. Stretched out. I remember what you told me about the Dreamers, me being one of them.
I need to tell you about that. The Dreamers are dying right now, fast. The Unity is recording their engrams, hoping one day to welcome them into the Collective. So far the Dreamers have remained silent.
It was quiet for a while. Jean feared he might be too late already. Darius?
I’m still here. It’s … weird to realize your flesh will cease to exist.
We will keep searching for options, alternatives.
Jean. Darius voice almost seemed physically present in Jean’s cabin. When the time comes, you must release me.
Jean felt a tear slowly roll across his cheek. The words came almost automatically. ‘Oh, that’s nonsense, Algy. You never talk anything but nonsense.’
‘Nobody ever does.’
I do not expect I shall be in time to attend the recording. But I will find you, wherever you go.
And otherwise we may see each other later. Or not.
Three weeks later all communication ceased. Jean was inconsolable, like part of his heart had been taken away forever, even though his head told him the person Darius still existed, assumed into the Collective of the Unity. For the first time he welcomed the dreamless sleep of the sense-tank.
#
The room that once housed Darius was now home to another patient. His few possessions were ready in a box when Jean reported to the reception desk.
At home he took out his first edition and browsed through the yellowed pages. He experienced a strange sense of melancholy, a feeling between sadness and hope. His eyes noticed a suitable text: ‘It is always painful to part from people whom one has known for a very brief space of time.’ Say that again. He felt the need to be alone with his grief. Methodically, he shut down his presence until his online persona had become undetectable. He hoped it would be enough.
Organizing Darius’ estate and visiting his remaining friends and family took several weeks. Jean thought it his duty to deliver the message in person. He also hoped to get extra details, pictures, facts and memories of Darius to make the image of his beloved in his mind more complete, should the recording remain closed to him.
One month later he visited the ash field where Darius’ remains had been scattered, the last activity on his list, closure of a process he was going through. While he looked out over the field that lay in the shadow of the Utrecht Arcology, a messenger drone descended until it hovered just before him.
“You are disturbing my peace,” Jean said, without checking from who the message was.
“You’re unreachable through the usual methods.” The tinny voice of Equinox came from the device.
“I needed time alone.”
“You’ve been here for over a month. The Collective expected you to visit Darius inside the Unity long ago.”
“He’s safe there. Why the rush?”
Equinox produced a sound like a sigh. “There are reasons.”
“That you don’t want to bother me with?” Jean shrugged.
The drone flew back and forth a few times, then calmed down again. “Personally I would really appreciate it if you would visit Darius at your earliest convenience. My time is rather limited. Please.”
Jean raised an eyebrow. An AI that says please? “Alright, Equinox. I’ll sleep in a sense-tank tonight. You can take me to Darius then.”
“Thank you, Jean. It is appreciated, more than you will ever know.”
#
The sense-tank Jean had at home was both sleeping cabin with sensory damping and a gateway for visiting the Unity, the Meta reality the AIs of the Collective had created.
He eased down inside it and felt the familiar soft movements of the target finding electrodes that searched for the contacts in his skull. As soon as they connected he felt his body relax and seconds later his vision dimmed. A moment of vertigo, next he floated above a landscape filled with numerous interesting details. Towers, of course, forests, villages, streets, roller coasters, bizarre flying creature and much more. Above the horizon cloud cities floated, connected by monorails, containing buildings that were free interpretations of Metropolis.
A pink tabby cat appeared before him. “You are Jean le Forge. Like your suit. Purple spotted tie, quite original.”
Jean nodded. “My gestalt likes to wear neat suits. And you?”
“Equinox sent me. I’m to be your guide.”
“I don’t feel like being your Alice.”
“Pfff,” the cat spat. “As if all AIs would try to pass this off as Wonderland.”
Jean smiled. “Admit it, you had the complete tour lined up.”
The cat twisted its tail. “It’s really not that big a thing.”
Jean shook his head. “I wish to see Darius. That is all for now.”
A deep sigh. “So be it, then. Follow me.” The cat ran off at high speed, jumping across the clouds and occasionally appearing rainbows.
Jean sent his gestalt after his guide. The landscape below them gradually changed, starting as dense buildings with rich details, then to dreary mountains and valleys where you could still see a polygon or two.
On a mountain top the tabby cat halted. In the valley beneath them was snow. Wide pastures, alternating with clumps of fractal trees, everything covered by a white layer. ‘There it is.” The cat stretched a paw towards the horizon that immediately approached. Close by was a hedge, a few dozen yards high, with dark leaves and a few white flowers, the top covered in a thick layer of snow.
“The Winter Garden,” Jean said. “From here I can find it. Give my regards to Equinox.”
“Who?” said the cat, grinning like a cartoon.
“Equinox. The AI who brought me here. You just said it yourself.”
The cat shook its head. “The Collective brought you here. I never mentioned that name.” It held its head at an angle, as if listening. “Nope, just confirmed, there is no AI named Equinox.”
Am I mad? “I must have misheard. Forget it.”
“Be well, Jean le Forge.” With those words the cat disappeared.
#
Details became clearer when he approached the hedge. Every spot, every flake was visible in near perfect resolution. The vegetation grew well up to twenty yards above him. The dark leaves were razor sharp, the thorns deadly spikes, yet the flowers, roses, were white like fresh snow with delicate petals, finely veined, and sprinkled with tiny ice crystals that reflected the light.
Jean walked along the hedge until he reached a tunnel. At the end of the tunnel, beyond a gate, was a light. If Darius was right, he should meet Snow here. He looked around to see if he could spot the guardian, outside the Winter Garden.
An unexpected splash of colour caught his attention. Right next to the gate, half hidden beneath the dark leaves, grew a single red rose. Jean looked at the perfect flower, only half reminded that this too was just a projection on his visual cortex. Involuntarily he stretched his arm towards the rose, held its stem, and then plucked the flower. He took the red perfection to his nose, deeply inhaling its sweet scent. An explosion of colours and scents washed over his virtual senses. With a smile he place the flower in a buttonhole of his jacket.
Carefully he entered the tunnel and stepped through the gate that magically opened to him. Halfway it seemed as if he crossed a barrier, like touching some kind of invisible border.
A few steps later he was inside the garden. He looked around. He immediately saw three snow white statues, beautiful boys and men, nearly naked and perfect in every detail. Just like Darius described them.
The inside of the Winter Garden was a maze of human sized hedges, with occasional open spots that provided resting places on idyllic marble benches.
Jean noticed he began to hurry. The thought of Darius gave him energy, the idea of meeting him again filled him with joy.
Nearly in the centre of the garden was a large area. Jean exited the maze and saw him there, his beloved, Darius, young, the way he was in memories, from the time they walked through the Utrecht Arcology, holding hands, looking down on the remains of the Dom tower that reached up to a third of the height of the arcology. He stood before a beautiful statue. Jean recognized his own face and body.
“Darius!” His beloved turned. They looked at each other, moments only. Then they both ran.
Just before they could embrace a pale figure rose up from the snow, easily larger than Darius and Jean together. It raised its right arm to stop Jean.
Skidding, Jean came to a stop, right before the large, slender hand. This must be Snow. He saw cold, lifeless eyes, a symmetric face, and the silent perfection of a soulless algorithm that guided this … this automaton.
“Snow?” Darius said to the pale young man. “I know him. You must let him pass.”
“That is not my task,” Snow said. “You stay inside. Him I will expel. He does not belong here. Those are the rules.”
“Jean?” Darius said. “You can’t win this. Snow is the guardian. He’s a soulless monster and he will kill you if you don’t comply.”
“I can’t leave you here, Darius. I found you and I will never leave you. I daresay it was foolish of me, but I fell in love with you, Ernest.’”
“Enough talk,” Snow said. His eyes flickered icily. “Leave now. Or die.”
“I …” Jean started. He looked down, saw Snow’s hand close to his chest, felt the cold emanating from it, right next to the colour explosion of the single red rose he had found inside the hedge. A piece of soul. Is that it? “I have a gift for Darius. After that I will leave on my own.”
Snow considered his proposition. “What gift is that?”
Jean pulled the flower from his jacket’s buttonhole, smelled it. “This beautiful flower. A memento.” He began to move to pass Snow, but the large hand stopped him.
“Give. Then leave.”
Jean looked at him, resigned, and then placed the flower inside the upturned palm of the automaton. The cold nearly froze his hand. The fingers closed around the stem and in slow motion Jean saw one of the thorns pierce Snow’s skin.
The transformation was immediate and grandiose. Snow grew smaller fast, gaining colour as he shrunk. He fell to his knees. His skin was still pale, but his eyes were an icy blue, approaching violet and his hair was a shock of blonde curls reaching to his shoulders. His mouth formed a soundless scream.
Jean walked around him, running the final yards towards Darius. The two men embraced like they had not seen each other in ages.
“At last. I waited so long for you,” Darius said.
“I’m here and here I will stay,” Jean said. “You make me complete.” He looked at Darius. “There is an endless universe out there. Shall we discover it?”
Darius smiled and took Jean’s hand. Together they walked towards the exit.
“Please?” Snow’s voice behind them sounded so sad that Jean turned.
“What is it?”
“Can you please tell me who I am? What I’m supposed to do? I remember nothing.” He raised the hand with the rose up to them.
“I don’t understand,” Jean said. “I hoped to make the automaton a bit more human. I never thought it would completely wipe its systems.”
“How did you manage it?” Darius asked.
Jean spread his hands. “This is your engram, my love. Your inner self. The Winter Garden was your perfect playground, surrounded by an impenetrable hedge and guarded by what, in the end, was no more than an algorithm. A soulless AI, if you will, having only one goal that it pursued relentlessly. Who can tell what caused the Dreamers? Maybe it was a digital virus. I had an idea, a hunch, that rose represented a piece of your human essence. I gave him that. The effect was … interesting.”
“We can’t leave him like this,” Darius said, “What does he need?”
“A name and a mission. That is how it usually works. Try it.”
Darius pondered a few seconds, then said to the kneeling figure: “I will name you. Your name is Equinox. Your mission is to awaken the Dreamers. You hold the key in your hand.”
The automaton got up. “I am Equinox. So shall it be.”
Darius took Jean’s hand and together they walked the maze.
“Why did you name him Equinox?” Jean asked, intrigued.
Darius shrugged. “I always considered it a beautiful name. Why?”
“There was an AI who helped me find you here. His name was Equinox. But according to the Unity an AI named Equinox never existed.”
Darius stopped and looked at him. “Did you ever mention him during our conversations, all those years ago.”
“Not that I can recall.”
“Then I’m at a loss too.” He shook his head. “Perhaps I don’t want to know. The important thing is that we have each other.”
They left the Winter Garden through the tunnel. Outside the snow on the ground was melting. They turned around and saw that the hedge was no longer covered in snow and bloomed with millions of beautiful red roses.
Mike Jansen has published in Dutch, German, Romanian, Estonian, Polish, Chinese, French, Finnish, Russian, Swedish, Catalan, Spanish and English anthologies and magazines. Since 2011 he has published over 100 English language stories in the U.S., U.K. and Australia. In addition, three fantasy novels, two story collections and several novellas in Dutch, a novel and a short story collection in English. He has won the Dutch King Kong Award 1992, an honorable mention for the Australian 1998 Altair Magazine launch competition, in 2012 the Baarn Literary Prize and the prestigious Dutch Fantastels award, in 2020 the GP Scifi/Fantasy Award and in 2021 the Mossy Statue prize for best promoter of Dutch SF, F and H. Since 2016 Mike organizes the Dutch EdgeZero awards, an attempt to get the best stories from Dutch language genre contests and magazines of the previous year collected and published in a year’s best anthology. So far eight anthologies have been published. In addition he publishes themed anthologies showcasing the best Dutch authors. Some of his recent work has appeared in Samovar and Strange Horizons.