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Art by Victor Yañez.
From the author: A sex worker finds sentience in a futuristic world steeped in jazz nostalgia.
This is an old-fashioned kind of place in the heart of a new-fangled kind of city. I always pick the place for us to meet. Ducking through the door, I push aside the black velvet curtain meant to keep out the cold and I shake my head as the host tries to take my coat. For a moment, I smile grimly. I don’t get cold.
Outside the window smeared with condensation from the heat of the bodies pressed together on the dance floor is a city of skyway trams suspended on rollercoaster wires, millions of...