This month's patron-funded story is "The Bacteria that Evolved on the Trip to Zebulon 83" by Patrick Mannus. It's narrated by Nobilis Reed.

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Charlie didn't think much of the reports of cancer-related deaths on the Zebulon-83 colony ship. They were sad to hear people had died, sure, but to Charlie, the deaths weren't personally more upsetting than the radiation-related leukemia deaths after the toxic train spill. If anything, they were more pissed about the train spill deaths because that was the government's negligence at work. The Zebulon-83 deaths seemed like just bad luck as a result of transit-related radiation exposure during cryopreservation.

Charlie took slightly more notice when it came out that all the Zebulon cancers were prostate, breast, ovarian, and endometrial. Not so much because that meant anything to them scientifically speaking, but because it was just kind of odd. Charlie worked in IT, but even they could recognize that it was unusual for the cancers to cluster like that.

When it came out that the cause of the unusual cancer clustering was unregulated growth of hormone-altering intestinal bacteria that had evolved during the flight to Zebulon-83, and that said same bacteria could be directed to change people's genders more effectively than any hormone supplements, Charlie sat up and took notice.

They sent the article to a fellow comms satellite IT specialist. They didn’t work for the same company, but even though it was a growing field, there were still few enough of them that you just knew the other commsatties. And Charlie had always kind of had a crush on Morgan.

Morg. Check it out. Interesting tech coming out of that Zebulon-83 colony ship.

When they’d met at a commsatty conference, which was really just a place to use illicit and non-illicit substances and talk shit about the companies they worked for and all the exploits they had over the companies if they were ever wrongfully terminated, Charlie had been drawn to Morgan. They just got the sense of a kindred spirit. When your body was not always the right fit for your soul, you could see the same mismatch in others. And Charlie had seen that in Morgan.

This month's patron-funded story is The Fishbowl by C Lenz. It's narrated by Vivienne Ferrari.

Audiobooks narrated by Vivienne Ferrari

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“This is a bit public, isn’t it?”

“As public as it gets, babe,” Lily replied. The small plexiglass dome affectionately known as the Fishbowl jutted out of the space station, letting them float above earth. The observation deck was theoretically available to all employees, but most didn’t spend their time off looking at a planet they may never set foot on again. “All those billionaires still rich enough to live on the planet can see us.”

“My parents aren’t billionaires, and they live down there,” Cass said.

“Well, maybe they shouldn’t have kicked you out. Then they wouldn’t be subjected to this show.”

Lily ducked her head down. In zero gravity, she had to keep her arms wrapped around Cass’s thighs to keep herself in position.

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The baking heat of late summer was upon her, and the flies were out. Iris wiped the sweat from her brow, and stuffed another blackberry between her teeth. She knew she shouldn’t. The more blackberries she ate herself, the longer she’d take to fill the basket, and the longer she’d need to stay out in the sun. But she couldn’t resist the temptation. The berries hung amid the thorns, juicy and succulent. She thrust her hand back into the bush, and grabbed a couple more. The thorns scratched, but the prize was worth it. The sweet, tart taste ran over her tongue. Delightful.

But her fingers were now sticky with berry juice, and the sweat was running again. And there were the flies, hovering and buzzing. Never mind her miserably half-full basket.

This was hotter than last summer, by far. Or any of the seventeen other summers of her life. 

Maybe it was the terrible lack of wind. Other times, the salty tang from the south – the sea lay two days’ donkey-ride from her village – might have relieved Iris’ pain. But today? The air hung like a hazy and listless shroud. To be trapped outside on such an afternoon, why, it was like being cooked alive inside a brazen maze. A maze choked with bushes and thorns.

Iris gritted her teeth. A plan formed in her mind.

The festivities of Sungit were yet tomorrow night. She could nap in the shade for a few hours, at least until the coolness of evening. Then she’d fill her basket, and hurry home. Her mother might grumble, but her mother wasn’t out in the afternoon heat. She was bowing and scraping before Sungit’s stone altar, along with all the other mothers. So long as Iris delivered a basketful of blackberries by nightfall, that was what mattered. 

Besides, the visiting Priest ate half the fruit offerings before the ceremony, and the goddess never seemed to mind. Sungit felt generous these days. The harvest had not failed in a full twelve years, and the grain ran plentiful.  

Iris’ heart fluttered, as she glanced around her. There was no-one in sight, nor could she hear anyone talking or singing. Perhaps everyone else thought similarly: the day was just too hot.