Rina imagined her ice cube in the dark, cold cocoon of the freezer. Stay calm, she thought. Block it out. This is your life. This bit of almost-death.
Rina imagined her ice cube in the dark, cold cocoon of the freezer. Stay calm, she thought. Block it out. This is your life. This bit of almost-death.
We die to make place for our children, and through our children a piece of us lives on, the only form of immortality that is real.
The ships gave off a dark metallic blue sheen in the sun. They dwarfed the 747s beside them. There were three ships, all identical, with no external protrusions or indentations to mar the smooth cigar shape.
Tendrils of red mist rose from within the box and curled around her, pushing at her nostrils. She took a deep breath.
The spirits like to play jokes on us. I have seen more in my lifetime than any Nan in recorded history, and yet I am also the most shortsighted, practically blind.
A werk is a work of art. It is a chimera made from the genetic material of two zygotes, a mixture of tissues from two species. It is a creature sprung from the mind and curiosity of Man.
So this was the secret of shimmer silk. Not silkworms, but spiders.
“I want this,” I said.
He glanced at the display on the dock. “I see there’s a bit of Woolf, a bit of Joyce, and a lot of this new author from Taipei, Annie W. She’s popular. Very malleable prose, I understand, adaptable to lots of books.”
Ever since Tian was a little boy, he had been obsessed with the exploits of the Monkey King, the trickster demon who had seventy-two transformations and defeated hundreds of monsters, who had shaken the throne of the Jade Emperor with a troop of monkeys.
My body, made out of a plastic skeleton covered by stuffing and soft cloth skin, is flat and wide. My legs are short and thick. My eyes are wide open and smiley.
Yet every species has its unique way of passing on its wisdom through the ages, its way of making thoughts visible, tangible, frozen for a moment like a bulwark against the irresistible tide of time. Everyone makes books.
So there I was, a new gas giant just waking up. The disk of nebular dust surrounded me like a fresh blanket of snow. Along with the rest of the planets, I marched around that dust cloud, absorbing everything I could, growing and loving every second.
Then I saw her.
She held up her finger against my lips. So close to her, I finally noticed her scent. It was like her mother’s, floral and sweet, but also bright, like blankets dried in the sun. I felt my face grow warm.
But the Carboniferous Period, 350 million years before civilization, is the perfect time to retire.