[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
he did so and what he found was shocking. Indeed, it shocked everyone though our youngest staffers
made the quickest recovery.
You see, the boreals have vanished. The domed roof of the environmental compound was shattered
though no one heard any noise.
The only things missing beside the roof and the boreals were the eight small caribou over which they had
apparently had some control.
We tried to find out if your brother had seen anything but all he said was "He can't be right. Ho, ho, ho."
We're not sure if that means anything and if you can help us we will pay all your expenses down here.
We are beginning a search for the boreals but have no leads. Our best guess is that they are heading
North.
Oh, by the way, is your husband free to address our conference next month? His paper was most
enlightening.
Season's Greetings,
Peter C. Plummer, Director
The short story of less than a thousand words has long been an especially powerful science fiction mode,
despite the fact that in such small compass the writer must create-or at least convincingly suggest-a whole
world alien to the reader's experience. The hands of Steve Rasnic Tem have here produced one of the
best examples that I can remember reading in a long, long time.
FORWARD
Steve Rasnic Tem
"Susa, Memphis, Athens may crumble: but an ever more highly organized awareness of the universe is
passed on from hand to hand and increases with each successive stage in clarity and brilliance."
-Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
1 The sun was hot; it rained every day. He discovered that hard stone was better for tearing the hide of
the large gray leaper. He dimly remembered a time when the leaper had been a brother to him, when his
hands and legs had been closer to his thinking, and he hadn't been so alone. He raised the hard stone,
began pounding the meat.
2 Rome's soldier was nearing his spot behind the tree. He hefted the shaft of his spear. When the soldier
was only a foot or so away he leapt in front of the startled man, plunging the shaft into his abdomen. He
tightened the grip with his hands, and pushed. He was fascinated by the look of the soldier, his face
betraying surprise, then a sense of loss shared only between the two of them. He prodded the body with
his foot when it fell, got down on his knees and rifled the clothing with trembling hands.
3 He leapt out of the foxhole, suddenly realizing his foolishness, and wanting to dive back in. But the
German was on him at once. He barely had time to squeeze off one shot with his cold-numbed finger.
The corpse knocked him back into the hole, and lay on him, pressing the side of his face, his hands into
the mud.
4 The enemy had broken through into sector seven. He pushed Y-7, R-9, Q-5-20. Red switch. Green
switch. Yellow. A haze of dots washed over the blips on the screen. When it passed, most of the blips
had disappeared. He clenched and unclenched his wet hands.
5 He opened his hands as wide as possible, stretching thumbs and little fingers painfully. He danced them
about the shimmering column of heat in proscribed movements. He watched his middle fingers, dipping
them carefully into their proper, invisible positions. The complex rose on plasteel shafts, iridescent ramps,
corruscating lines. At the end of the day he collapsed in exhaustion, but the city was done.
6 The man in the multi-layered robe clapped his hands once, twice, then floated two feet off the floor. He
waved a hand to his pupils, and one, now three, now a dozen were following him out of the opening in
the middle of the ceiling. The sun was warm that day, so several pulled on their hoods.
7 The complex of circuits was light in his palm. He examined it gingerly. Under the scanner it was a
seamless piece, both inside and out. To the untrained eye it appeared to be nothing more than an
ordinary stone.
8 He stroked her cheeks lightly with his fingertips, whispering the syllables low, and without hurry. She
began to growl, then mewl, then emitted a sharp rasping sound. Her eyelids were fluttering. She was a
bird now, wondering what could be holding her down.
9 It is hot today; it has rained every day for months. He slides down the hard edge of rock, landing on
two feet, then four points. Looking out on the plain he spies more movements of himself. The grass is
low. The plain is almost empty except for distant stone ridges. He yawns and stretches back into dust
that also seems himself. He is content to be cat, bovine, grass, and sun. His hands sleep when he sleeps. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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he did so and what he found was shocking. Indeed, it shocked everyone though our youngest staffers
made the quickest recovery.
You see, the boreals have vanished. The domed roof of the environmental compound was shattered
though no one heard any noise.
The only things missing beside the roof and the boreals were the eight small caribou over which they had
apparently had some control.
We tried to find out if your brother had seen anything but all he said was "He can't be right. Ho, ho, ho."
We're not sure if that means anything and if you can help us we will pay all your expenses down here.
We are beginning a search for the boreals but have no leads. Our best guess is that they are heading
North.
Oh, by the way, is your husband free to address our conference next month? His paper was most
enlightening.
Season's Greetings,
Peter C. Plummer, Director
The short story of less than a thousand words has long been an especially powerful science fiction mode,
despite the fact that in such small compass the writer must create-or at least convincingly suggest-a whole
world alien to the reader's experience. The hands of Steve Rasnic Tem have here produced one of the
best examples that I can remember reading in a long, long time.
FORWARD
Steve Rasnic Tem
"Susa, Memphis, Athens may crumble: but an ever more highly organized awareness of the universe is
passed on from hand to hand and increases with each successive stage in clarity and brilliance."
-Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
1 The sun was hot; it rained every day. He discovered that hard stone was better for tearing the hide of
the large gray leaper. He dimly remembered a time when the leaper had been a brother to him, when his
hands and legs had been closer to his thinking, and he hadn't been so alone. He raised the hard stone,
began pounding the meat.
2 Rome's soldier was nearing his spot behind the tree. He hefted the shaft of his spear. When the soldier
was only a foot or so away he leapt in front of the startled man, plunging the shaft into his abdomen. He
tightened the grip with his hands, and pushed. He was fascinated by the look of the soldier, his face
betraying surprise, then a sense of loss shared only between the two of them. He prodded the body with
his foot when it fell, got down on his knees and rifled the clothing with trembling hands.
3 He leapt out of the foxhole, suddenly realizing his foolishness, and wanting to dive back in. But the
German was on him at once. He barely had time to squeeze off one shot with his cold-numbed finger.
The corpse knocked him back into the hole, and lay on him, pressing the side of his face, his hands into
the mud.
4 The enemy had broken through into sector seven. He pushed Y-7, R-9, Q-5-20. Red switch. Green
switch. Yellow. A haze of dots washed over the blips on the screen. When it passed, most of the blips
had disappeared. He clenched and unclenched his wet hands.
5 He opened his hands as wide as possible, stretching thumbs and little fingers painfully. He danced them
about the shimmering column of heat in proscribed movements. He watched his middle fingers, dipping
them carefully into their proper, invisible positions. The complex rose on plasteel shafts, iridescent ramps,
corruscating lines. At the end of the day he collapsed in exhaustion, but the city was done.
6 The man in the multi-layered robe clapped his hands once, twice, then floated two feet off the floor. He
waved a hand to his pupils, and one, now three, now a dozen were following him out of the opening in
the middle of the ceiling. The sun was warm that day, so several pulled on their hoods.
7 The complex of circuits was light in his palm. He examined it gingerly. Under the scanner it was a
seamless piece, both inside and out. To the untrained eye it appeared to be nothing more than an
ordinary stone.
8 He stroked her cheeks lightly with his fingertips, whispering the syllables low, and without hurry. She
began to growl, then mewl, then emitted a sharp rasping sound. Her eyelids were fluttering. She was a
bird now, wondering what could be holding her down.
9 It is hot today; it has rained every day for months. He slides down the hard edge of rock, landing on
two feet, then four points. Looking out on the plain he spies more movements of himself. The grass is
low. The plain is almost empty except for distant stone ridges. He yawns and stretches back into dust
that also seems himself. He is content to be cat, bovine, grass, and sun. His hands sleep when he sleeps. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]