Rillas and Other Science Fiction Stories

Rillas and Other Science Fiction Stories
Автор книги: id книги: 1640256     Оценка: 0.0     Голосов: 0     Отзывы, комментарии: 0 334,15 руб.     (3,9$) Читать книгу Купить и скачать книгу Купить бумажную книгу Электронная книга Жанр: Научная фантастика Правообладатель и/или издательство: Ingram Дата добавления в каталог КнигаЛит: ISBN: 9781434449368 Скачать фрагмент в формате   fb2   fb2.zip Возрастное ограничение: 0+ Оглавление Отрывок из книги

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Описание книги

NO ONE writes science fiction, fantasy, or horror like A. R. Morlan. Her unique characters–her unusual perspective–her enormous imagination–all of these traits combine to produce absolutely «different» views of the past, present, and future. The eight novellas and short stories in this new collection highlight some of the best of her recent explorations of the near-future: «The Best Years of Our Lives,» «Contingencies and Penti-Lope-Lope» (with John S. Postovit), «Ciné Rimettato,» «Boog'/4 and the Endicaran Kluge,» «Robin Williams, Speaking Spanish,» «What Falls from the Life» (with John S. Postovit), «Etamin at East 47th,» and «'Rillas.»

Оглавление

A. R. Morlan. Rillas and Other Science Fiction Stories

Отрывок из книги

To Kevin J. Anderson, Jerry Oltion, and Darrell Schweitzer,

for supplying me with copies of a “lost” page of the story “’Rillas” (incomplete contributor’s copy) after I lost my original manuscript of the story during the September 2, 2002 F3 tornado which damaged my house—most specifically my office!—I couldn’t have created this collection without your help!

.....

The sharp splash of something fast-thrown and heavy hitting the water brought me back to a semblance of painful reality. I’d waded out into the middle of the pond, up to my armpits, with my extended toes barely touching the muddy bottom—and there was a crusher no more than a foot away from me, head down, twin horns aimed for my skinny, pale-skinned chest, only when the second splash occurred, the crusher turned its head away from me, to stare at the ripples in the murky water.

Before the third splash, I heard a keening mewl, one I’d never heard a ’lope utter before, with the sound coming from behind me. I turned my head and upper body to look in that direction...and saw Penti, standing there on the limp-vines, making a gesture I’d seen before, in a slightly different social context:

.....

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