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08/05/1976
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The Body That Rejected ItselfBloomington, Indiana, 2005 Dr. Tariq Nasir was thirty-six years old and had been an associate professor of comparative literature at Indiana University for four years when he began to notice that the body of the community was rejecting him. This was not a medical event — he was not experiencing an allergic reaction or an autoimmune disorder, though the metaphor was precise and, in retrospect,...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 2 Просмотры 0 предпросмотрВойдите, чтобы отмечать, делиться и комментировать!
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Cold Coffee in the VoidThe radio stopped talking on a Thursday. I don't remember what it said before it stopped. Something about the sun. Something about staying inside. I locked the basement door because that's what you do when someone tells you to stay inside—you stay inside. It's not a decision. It's a habit. My name is Dale Cooper. I'm forty-five years old. I used to work at the GM plant in Lorain, Ohio, until...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 2 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The Swamp of Forgotten Sins(V-07: Southern Gothic) **Act I: The Rotting Inheritance** The air in the Louisiana bayou was a thick, humid soup that tasted of sulfur and old death. Cora arrived at the Blackwood Estate in a rusted sedan, the tires sinking into the grey mud. The house was a skeletal ruin of Greek Revival architecture, its white columns stained with green mold and draped in weeping willows. Cora had come to...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 5 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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I knew Mr. Blackwood was not like the other masters. I knew this on the first day, when he walked into the dining room and did not look at any of us—not the cook, not the butler, not me—as if we were furniture. Not unfriendly. Not cruel. Simply invisible.I am Thomas Green. I am seventeen. I am the junior footman at Blackwood Manor, and my job is to carry things, open doors, and stay out of the way. I am good at staying out of the way. Mr. Blackwood is twenty-six, tall and dark and quiet. He inherited the manor six months ago, when his uncle died, and he has not smiled since. The servants talk about it. We have to. What else is there to do? But...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 7 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The Golden WitnessThe city didn't breathe; it wheezed. I watched the human from the shadow of a rusted dumpster, my whiskers twitching at the scent of stale coffee and desperation. He was a poacher, one of the few who still ventured into the "Green Patch," a jagged scrap of wild land that the skyscrapers of Manhattan had forgotten to swallow. He was clumsy. He moved with a heavy, rhythmic thud, his eyes wide and...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 9 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The Golden BroomACT I: THE ARRIVAL The first thing I learned in America was that money talks. The second thing I learned was that it shouts, and if you don't learn to shout back, you'll be drowned out before you can even open your mouth. I arrived in New York in 1888 with two dollars, a name that nobody could pronounce correctly, and a head full of ideas that the old country had no use for. My name is Patrick...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 9 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The Zenith of DustThe skyline of 1924 New York was a jagged crown of limestone and ambition, a city vibrating with the frantic energy of a thousand jazz bands and a million desperate dreams. In the gilded ballrooms of the Upper East Side, the air was thick with the scent of expensive gin and the shimmering haze of Ether-Dream. Ether-Dream was not merely a drug; it was a sanctuary. A single crystalline drop on...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 2 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The Raven's NestThe Raven's Nest The phone rang at 6:42 PM on a Friday in early October, and Belle McAfee was sitting in the back row of Miss Langley's American History class at Oak Creek Female Academy, half-listening to a lecture on post-war reconstruction and half-doodling crow feathers in the margin of her notebook. She answered the phone in the hallway, and her sister Selah's voice came through the wire...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 3 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The Algorithm of a ManMarcus spent his days in a cubicle on the 42nd floor of a glass tower in Manhattan, analyzing data for a man who had stopped being human. Mr. Thorne, the CEO, had changed overnight. There was no dramatic event, no lightning strike. He simply became... efficient. He stopped asking questions. He stopped hesitating. He began to make decisions that were mathematically perfect but humanly cruel. He...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 11 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The Butler Who Held the ChainThe network of Hartley Manor was simple in its geometry. Elinor stood at the center as the lady of the house. Samuel stood between her and the outside world, controlling what information reached her, what supplies entered the kitchen, what visitors were admitted through the front door. Mary the housekeeper connected Samuel to the servants below stairs. The servants connected Mary to the...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 8 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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The Man Who Held the TruthArthur Callahan was the hub of the family. That was his position, his role, his burden. He was the man who held the connections between everyone else, the man who knew the secrets and kept them, the man who decided what information would pass from one person to another and what information would be stopped at his desk. He was fifty-seven years old in the spring of 1947, and he had been the hub...0 Комментарии 0 Поделились 10 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 15 Просмотры 0 предпросмотр
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