Son Güncellemeler
  • The Copper Tube's Account
    I am three feet of brass, hollow along my length, fitted with a membrane at one end and a listening cup at the other. I was manufactured in a workshop in Birmingham in the autumn of 1924, assembled by a man whose name I do not know but whose fingerprints I have carried in the oxidation of my surface for forty-two years. I was purchased by correspondence, shipped to Lerwick, carried on a fishing...
    0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 0 Views 0 önizleme
  • The Patient from Below
    Part I: The Lock Henri Leclerc was thirty-three years old, the youngest mathematics professor at the Ecole Normale Superieure in Paris, and in the spring of 1893 he was on the verge of a discovery that would have changed the course of mathematics. He had been working on hypergeometric functions—specifically, on a class of functions that extended the concept of infinity to higher dimensions. In...
    0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 1 Views 0 önizleme
  • The Boy Who Walked Away
    I. Joe O'Brien was eleven years old when his mother told him to leave, and he did not cry, did not scream, did not beg. He stood in the kitchen of the Brighton Beach apartment with his father drunk on the couch and his two younger brothers watching television, and he listened to his mother say, "You're not one of us, Joseph. You never will be. Perhaps it would be best if you made your own...
    0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 7 Views 0 önizleme
  • The Amber Signal
    The Amber Signal London, 1888. The fog rolled through the streets of Chelsea like a living thing, thick and yellow and tasting of coal smoke and something else—something older, something that had nothing to do with the city. Arthur Blackwood stood at the window of his study in the Royal Astronomical Society, his telescope pointed not at the stars above but at the strange readings from the new...
    0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 5 Views 0 önizleme
  • The Patient from Below
    The voice started on a Tuesday, in the basement of Dr. Edward Blackwood's clinic in the town of Arkham, Massachusetts. Eddie was fifteen, brilliant and troubled in equal measure, and he had spent the last three years sitting on his father's examination table while his father examined other people's minds. His father was sitting in his armchair, conducting what should have been a routine session...
    0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 7 Views 0 önizleme
  • What the Air Remembers
    The coffee was cold. It was always cold in the abandoned mine outpost, and Ray Hargrove didn't bother making new coffee anymore. He just drank the old stuff, black, and let the bitterness remind him that he was still alive.He was forty-five years old, a former National Guard radio operator who had survived a mining accident that had taken both his legs below the knee. Now he lived in this...
    0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 11 Views 0 önizleme
  • Void Meridian: The Fracture in the Machine - V01_Southern_Gothic Variant
    The rain in eastern Kentucky doesn't wash things clean. It makes them rot. It turns the abandoned factory walls to slurry, the coal dust to black mud, the people to ghosts who walk through hollows they used to call home. Danny Cole knew this. He had known it for forty-two years, which was how long he had been walking through these hills, and for the last three of those years, he had been...
    0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 2 Views 0 önizleme
  • THE MIRROR IN THE BASEMENT
    ACT I: THE WINDOWLESS ROOM Lord Alistair Finch-Worthingham inherited Blackwood Park on a Tuesday in November, which seemed appropriate: Tuesdays were the kind of days on which serious things happened—inheritances, deaths, the slow realization that one's life has been a performance for an audience that stopped watching years ago. The house was exactly as one might expect a country house named...
    0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 9 Views 0 önizleme
  • The Second Dawn Society
    The Second Dawn Society The rain over the Somme did not fall so much as it materialized, appearing all at once in the air like a curtain drawn by an invisible hand. Thomas Calloway felt the German shell hit the trench wall and knew, with a clarity that had nothing to do with courage and everything to do with arithmetic, that he was already dead. The explosion was a wall of sound and earth and...
    0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 9 Views 0 önizleme
  • The Bright Girl from Nowhere
    The Bright Girl from Nowhere The coffee at Les Deux Magots was terrible, and Daisy Calloway had been drinking it for four hours. She sat at the corner table with her notebook open, her pen moving across the page in a continuous stream. She'd been writing since dawn—since before the sun had come up over the Seine, since before the baker on the corner had lit his oven, since before Paris had...
    0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 10 Views 0 önizleme
  • The Long Sleep of Julian Vane
    (Variation 03 - Film Noir) The rain in Bay City didn't wash anything away; it just turned the grime into a mirror. Julian Vane was a man who lived in the reflection, a disgraced former District Attorney with a penchant for expensive scotch and a talent for doing absolutely nothing. He lived in a penthouse that smelled of stale tobacco and failed ambitions, a glass tower where he could watch the...
    0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 13 Views 0 önizleme
  • The Last Patient
    Dr. Adrian Cross had spent seven years studying post-traumatic stress in veterans, and he was good at it. Too good, according to Dr. Elena Vasquez, his mentor and supervisor at the Vance Institute for Cognitive Research. "You're not treating them, Adrian," she told him after observing one of his sessions. "You're solving them. There's a difference." He did not listen. He was close to something....
    0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 12 Views 0 önizleme
Daha Hikayeler