"Little Faces" is about a society of women symbiotic with their living spaceships. It answers the age-old question, "How do you write an exciting romantic crime story set in a genderfucked anarchic utopia?"

 

The women’s biology, sex, and gender is complicated. Males of the species, the "companions," are not quite sentient, and are attached to the female’s bellies somehow; they are a bit like children, mates, pets, or extra limbs. They’re like remora dildos with the emotional personalities of fire lizards. They’re also a bit like hard drives that contain part of the memory and experiences of the other women who created them. Out of modesty, on formal occasions they are kept covered, though a thoughtful woman would use a lacy veil so that her companions can see out.