Lenie Clarke-amphibious cyborg, Meltdown Madonna, agent of the Apocalypse-has grown sick to death of her own cowardice.For five years (since the events recounted in Maelstrom0, she and her bionic brethren (modified to work in the rift valleys of the ocean floor) have hidden in the mountains of the deep Atlantic. The facility they commandeered was more than a secret station on the ocean floor. Atlantis was an exit strategy for the corporate elite, a place where the world's Movers and Shakers had hidden from the doomsday microbe ?ehemoth-and from the hordes of the moved and the shaken ...
Two months since sixty-five thousand alien objects clenched around the Earth like a luminous fist, screaming to the heavens as the atmosphere burned them to ash. Two months since that moment of brief, bright surveillance by agents unknown. Two months of silence, while a world holds its breath.Now some half-derelict space probe, sparking fitfully past Neptune's orbit, hears a whisper from the edge of the solar system: a faint signal sweeping the cosmos like a lighthouse beam. Whatever's out there isn't talking to us. It's talking to some distant star, perhaps. Or perhaps to something ...
Lacey Hillcrest of Pensacola, 50 years old and a devout Pentecostal, had been diagnosed with inoperable lymphatic cancer and given six months to live. Five years later she was still alive. She attributed her survival to a decorative silver-plated cross received from her sister, Gracey Balfour.On the morning of 27 June, Mrs Hillcrest and her sister patronized the Museum of Quackery and Pseudoscience, owned and managed by one Linus C. Velikovsky, where she got to know about placebo. Within a month she was dead.The charge against Mr Velikovsky was negligent homicide.
„?lepowidzenie” w genialny spos?b na nowo definiuje histori? o pierwszym kontakcie. U Petera Wattsa obcy nie s? ani cudacznie przebranymi lud?mi, ani kompletnie niezrozumia?ymi czarnymi monolitami — s? czym? nowym, o wiele bardziej bulwersuj?cym, zmuszaj?cym nas do wyci?gni?cia do?? nieprzyjemnych wniosk?w co do natury ?wiadomo?ci. Gdy przestaniesz o tym my?le?, poczujesz ciarki na plecach!
An enormous tidal wave on the West Coast of North America has just killed thousands. Lenie Clarke, in a black wetsuit, walks out of the ocean onto a Pacific Northwest beach filled with the oppressed and drugged homeless of the Asian world who have gotten only this far in their attempt to reach America. Is she a monster or a goddess? One thing is for sure: all hell is breaking loose. This dark, fast-paced, hard SF novel returns to the story begun in Starfish: all human life is threatened by a disease (actually a primeval form of life) from ...
A story of the not-too-distant future, and the exploitation of the geothermal resources of the deep Juan de Fuca Rift in the Pacific by multinational corporations. Unfortunately, all the volunteers who are surgically altered for employment at the bottom of the ocean are psychotic.
So, "The Island" got a Hugo nom. Which means I'm supposed to pimp it, which is fine because it's been far too long since I swapped out the fiction on this page anyway. So here you go, with a couple of embedded illustrations by Dan Ghiordanescu and Chris Butler.A bit of background. "The Island" is a standalone novelette. It is also one episode in a projected series of connected tales (a l? Stross's Accellerandoor Bradbury's The Martian Chronicles) that start about a hundred years from now and extends unto the very end of time. And in some parallel universe where I not only get a foothold into the gaming industry but actually keep one, it is a mission level for what would be, in my opinion, an extremely kick-ass computer game.
