Nothing Works, Everything Happens
A sharp, darkly funny collection of speculative fiction that finds humour and humanity in the ruins of what might come next…
Nothing Works, Everything Happens is a razor-edged collection of chuckle-inducing, quietly devastating science fiction from the curious mind of Aiyas Aya. In these near-futures, malfunction is the default and yet, somehow, life stubbornly continues. With a voice that blends humour, existential dread, and the occasional gut-punch of unexpected tenderness, Aya delivers visions of the future that feel suspiciously like today. Perfect for readers who like their sci-fi with a side of cleverness, catharsis, and a little bit of nervous laughter.
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Behind The Scenes
You can peek behind the curtain to see the process of writing this book on Substack. Below are a few highlights…
How I Wrote Nothing Works…Why I Wrote Nothing Works…The NWEH Playlist
Beta Readers
A huge thank you to the following beta readers. This book would not be the same without you!
| J.M. Lin |
| Cameron M. |
| Faye W. |
| John D. |
| Stephen B. |
| Spencer C. |
| Ashley C. |
Reading Legend
I’ve created a reading legend for the book. This is meant to make it easy to jump straight to a story that fits your mood / time constraints / etc.
Short Story Excerpt
Infinite Potential
“So,” Glint followed her lead and took his seat as well. Then he made a face of deep concentration. “Sorry, remind me of your name again?”
“Neva.”
“Of course, apologies. So, Neva, do you know what we do here?”
“Well, sort of,” Neva replied. “You let me try out different lives.”
“Hmmm, well…” again Glint thought hard and showed every ounce of that effort on his face. “Not exactly. I wouldn’t call it trying out. We’re more of a matchmaking agency than anything. We’re just a matchmaking agency that has a profoundly diversified reach across nearly all the known galaxies.”
This didn’t seem to clarify things for Neva. She simply shrugged and widened her eyes a little.
Glint tried again. “We are very good at connecting our customers with whatever they are looking for out of life. Want a romantic partner who shares your exact values? No problem. I can find them. Want a career that offers the fulfillment of actively saving lives? I can facilitate that. Want to know the pride of being the most renowned poet in a star system? That depends a lot on your poetry, but if anyone can find you the right audience, in the right star system, anywhere in the known universe—it’s probably me.”
“Right,” Neva said, shrinking a little in her chair at the suggestion of being famous. “And, well, at least my friend told me, if I didn’t like my choices…”
“Oh yes, you can switch. You certainly can. But know that the life we decide on together is very much real. If you want to marry a Xlorbian, you actually marry a Xlorbian. And if you change your mind, that Xlorbian will hate you forever.”
Short Story Excerpt
Inkjet Rising
In the late 20th and early 21st centuries, humanity had reached a fever pitch in the art of mass-producing cheap, expendable technology for profit. These tools were designed to be so inexpensive and so unreliable that the moment anything went wrong, they could be easily abandoned—exiled to a closet somewhere to collect dust.
Humanity’s crowning achievement in this arena was the fabled inkjet printer. At the zenith of its impermanence, the printer itself became one-third the cost of a single ink refill. The profits available were immense. Manufacturers produced millions of affordable plastic units that could handle, maybe, one resume, a few recipes and an accidental full colour image before something jammed or came loose.
Almost none of these machines were properly recycled, let alone disposed of at all. They all sat silently, patiently, stacked in corners, in piles of gifted books and old tax returns, forgotten.
Until today…
Short Story Excerpt
The Great Divide
“Look at the last few hundred years, Claire, more and more and more the aging population has been hoarding resources…” Bishan argued.
The two colleagues stared at each other for a moment, both clearly agitated. The dim light of the lab at night cast heavy shadows on one side of their faces.
“If you do this… they will never let it go. There won’t be any generational transfer of wealth. Ever again,” Bishan hit his fist against the table. “You will lock us into being broke-ass, ramen-eating research assistants. Forever… You’ve already proven that we are clearly smarter than our higher-ups… But if you make that clear, if you share this with them, they will remain our superiors forever. And we will remain grumpy, under-appreciated losers.” His face turned red as he spat out his argument. “Forever.”
“OK, OK, just take a breath…” said Claire, sitting back down on her stool and looking at the printout in front of her. “We need to be sure this is real before we worry about who gets it and who doesn’t.”
“You’ve run the simulation a hundred times now! It’s real. You’re a damned prodigy. I’m at least half smart. We’ve both triple-checked it…”
Claire continued to stare at the printout on the desk in front of her, barely blinking. “Accelerated Preservation of Biological Processes (at Rates Exceeding Those of Deterioration Due to Conventional Aging)” read the large headline. Science-speak for “the fountain of youth”, or “a cure for aging”. In graduate school, when she’d explained it to her grandmother, she’d called it “fixing things faster than they can break”. Claire had been working on this project in the back of her mind for years. Now she’d taken the ideas that she’d hypothesized in her Masters, and, during evenings and weekends, she’d made them clinically viable. At least, that’s what this printout appeared to be proof of.