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18/10/1978
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The New Eden InitiativeChapter One The signal arrived on a Tuesday, which Abraham Cohen found amusing. He had expected cosmic contact to happen on a dramatic day — a storm, an eclipse, something with theatrical weight. Instead it came while the ship's cafeterias were serving synthetic oatmeal and the hydroponics crew was dealing with a fungal infestation in Bay Four. The signal was short. Three minutes and forty-two...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 0 Просмотры 0 предпросмотрВойдите, чтобы отмечать, делиться и комментировать!
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The patient from belowDr. Eleanor Hart had been coming to the Blackwood Institute for three weeks when she first heard the word transfiguration. The patient who said it was in Room 217—the highest security room on the fourth floor, where the walls were padded with beige fabric that had been stained by decades of fingerprints, heads thrown against them in moments of despair, and hands pressed flat in moments of...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 1 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The Nightmare FrequencyNew York was a city of smiling masks. Under the surface of the gleaming skyscrapers and the polite conversations, a secret organization known as "The Harmony" governed every aspect of human emotion. They used a network of low-frequency emitters to keep the population in a state of perpetual, artificial contentment. No one felt grief, no one felt rage, and no one ever questioned the status quo....0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 1 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The Two-Way Mirror - Variant 3: The Silver Spectacle (Jazz Age)The Two-Way Mirror - Variant 3: The Silver Spectacle Style: Jazz Age The Silver Spectacle VARIANT 3: JAZZ AGE Style: F. Scott Fitzgerald + T.S. Eliot Setting: 1924, New York City and Long Island ACT I I found the silver spectacle in a pawnshop on Broadway, half-drunk on bathtub gin and the particular variety of despair that only coming from old money with no money left can produce. The year...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 8 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The Girl from Terminal 4The Girl from Terminal 4 The rain in Los Angeles doesn't wash anything clean. It just makes the grime shine. I stood in the doorway of the Roosevelt Hotel ballroom, watching Viktor Kross laugh at something a senator's wife said. He was good at laughing. The kind that says I own this room without actually saying it. I had seen that laugh before, but not here. In Washington, three years ago, in a...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 9 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The Patient from BelowACT I Dr. Henry Blackwood's clinic was on Harley Street, in a building that had been a townhouse before someone with money and no taste turned it into a medical practice. The waiting room smelled of carbolic acid and lavender—two smells that had been mixed together by someone who thought they complemented each other but in fact created an odor that was worse than either alone. Blackwood sat in...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 10 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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Frequencies of the Rising TideShe was moving too fast. That was the problem. Meredith Cole had always been moving too fast. At seventeen, she had left her hometown on the coast of Maine because it was too slow, too small, too stuck in a century that had already ended. At twenty-three, she had earned her doctorate in marine biology from Scripps, the youngest in her cohort, the fastest, the best. At thirty-one, she was the...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 8 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The Beauregard CovenantAct I The Beauregard estate had died slowly, as all things in Louisiana eventually do—through a combination of humidity, neglect, and the slow and terrible weight of history pressing down upon stone and timber like a hand pressing down upon a butterfly's wings, pinning it to the earth while the colors fade and the memories of flight become nothing more than a whisper of iridescence on...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 13 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The MonumentThe rain in Los Angeles doesn't wash things clean. It just makes the grime slicker. Jack Mercer stood at the bar in his downtown office, watching the neon sign across the street flicker through the rain-streaked window. The sign said HOTEL in letters that had burned out half their bulbs, and the H was doing its best to stay lit, flickering like a heartbeat that wasn't quite sure it wanted to...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 16 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The Bastion of BloodThe year was 1789, and France was a bonfire of ambition and hatred. Lucian de Valois did not believe in the Republic, nor did he believe in the Divine Right of Kings. He believed in the Wall. Lucian was the last of a line of border lords, and he had seen the same cycle of betrayal for three generations. When the revolution ignited, he didn't flee to England or hide in a cellar. He turned his...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 13 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The Ocean of IceThe artist arrived on a Tuesday in November, which was unremarkable except that it was the first Tuesday in Boston when the weatherman could not explain why the temperature had dropped twelve degrees in three hours. Elena Voss was at the Museum of Fine Arts when the phone rang. The director, David Chen, sounded uncharacteristically shaken. "Elena," he said. "There's something at the harbor. I...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 10 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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Echoes of Power(V-11: New York Urban) The boardroom of Sterling & Cross was a vacuum of empathy, a place where the only thing more cold than the air conditioning was the gaze of the partners. I sat at the head of the mahogany table, my face a mask of professional neutrality, while my mind was running three separate simulations of the next ten minutes. In Simulation A, I played the role of the conciliator,...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 16 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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