The Best of Galaxy’s Edge 2013-2014 by Larry Niven, Nancy Kress, Mercedes Lackey, Ken Liu, Brad R. Torgersen, C. L. Moore, Tina Gower Page B

Let’s do it!”
    She nodded, opened the cover on her button, and hovered a finger over it reluctantly.
    Marcus surprised himself again. “I love you. Press it, Gwen.”
    She looked at him, smiling radiantly, and did. Whoosh! She was gone.
    He air-typed to the terminal and sent a video request out through the open refresh port. There she stood in her apartment, looking with awe at the image of her new body in a mirror.
    “Move it, honey,” he said.
    Gwen jumped at his voice, but waved and ran out the door.
    “So, are we waiting on her?” Bill asked.
    “Nope. Press your buttons on three. One … two … thre e !”
    They landed with silent grace, already in Kung Fu stances. Al and his two goons barely had time to drop their slices of pizza before they were disarmed and trussed up with electric cords ripped from a lamp, a fan, and the coffee maker.
    Oscar and Bill took turns going to the restroom.
    Marcus waved up a screen in the air, pulled over a chair, and then—with occasional suggestions from Bill or Oscar after they returned—demolished Al’s porn and spam empires. He was especially careful to erase all mention of Gwen’s work for Al. No need for her to be embarrassed during the investigations that were sure to come.
    The office door slammed against the wall under a powerful open spell and Gwen stormed in, looking like an avenging goddess. Seeing the trussed-up gangsters, she slid to a halt.
    “I’m sorry we didn’t wait for you, Gwen,” Marcus said, “but they were a pushover.”
    She shrugged.
    “Now what?” Bill asked.
    Gwen raised her hand. “I thought about that running over here.”
    They all noted that she was not a bit out of breath.
    “My brother is a patent attorney with the biggest intellectual property firm in Chicago.” She smiled. “You’ll all be rich, and Marcus can make sure all this ”—she ran her hands up and down her awesomely curvy body—“is used for the betterment of humanity.”
    “And software,” Marcus added. “We’re rich, Gwen—you too!” Oscar and Bill nodded enthusiastically. “Guess we should call the cops, huh?”
    Gwen took his arm and gently pulled him toward the door.
    “Let Bill and Oscar do that. I need you to check my computer.” She smiled a smile that would melt steel and then temper it into something stronger than before.
    Bill shrugged and winked.
    “Race you back,” Gwen yelled, already out the door.
    Marcus pounded after her.
    Oscar looked at Bill. “Big?”
    “Huge,” said Bill.
    “I love computers,” Oscar said.
    Published in Galaxy’s Edge Issue 2
Copyright © 2013 by Ralph Roberts. All rights reserved.

The Prayer Ladder

by Marina J. Lostetter
    T he ladder stretches up and up before me. Into the sky, past the clouds—past the sun, perhaps. I cannot see the top, but I know it ends in Heaven.
    Chill winds sweep the ice-covered mountain, and I hunker into my coat of caribou skin. The sleeve of my left arm is too long—Mama meant it to last me another two winters. The other is capped next to the stub of my right elbow.
    The sack full of my village’s prayers hangs lightly around my neck. Hundreds of little scrolls fill the burlap, written in hands both illegible and refined.
    Once every five years the prayers are carried to Heaven.
    Once every five years a citizen leaves and never comes back.
    And now it is my turn.
    I lay my boot on the first rung. I’ve learned to do everything with one limb that most do with two. I know how to deftly climb a ladder. But this …
    It’s a long way to forever.
    The ladder is made of something light and flexible—like the bamboo the traveling tradesmen bring. But it is also sturdy. The ladder has stood for a thousand years and will stand for a thousand more.
    When the Carrier of Prayers is selected, the entire village gathers on the square outside of the temple. The priest makes sure all of the doors and windows are splayed wide, so that we can see the choosing. He drapes garlands and sprinkles