Axiomatic: Short Stories of Science Fiction

Axiomatic: Short Stories of Science Fiction

Greg Egan

Language: English

Pages: 384

ISBN: 1597805408

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Axiomatic: Short Stories of Science Fiction

Greg Egan

Language: English

Pages: 384

ISBN: 1597805408

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


“Wonderful, mind-expanding stuff, and well written too.”
The Guardian

Axiomatic is a wonderful collection of eighteen short stories by Hugo Award–winning author Greg Egan. The stories in this collection have appeared in such science fiction magazines as Interzone and Asimov’s between 1989 and 1992.

From junkies who drink at the time-stream to love affairs in time-reversed galaxies; from gene-altered dolphins that converse only in limericks to the program that allows you to design your own child; from the brain implants called axiomatics to the strange attractors that spin off new religions; from bioengineering to the new physics; and from cyberpunk to the electronic frontier, Greg Egan’s future is frighteningly close to our own present.
Included in this collection are such wonderful stories as:

“Axiomatic”
“Into Darkness”
“The Safe-Deposit Box”
“Blood Sisters”
And many more!

Axiomatic is the perfect collection for any science fiction fan, especially one who enjoys Greg Egan’s work. The stories are imaginative and insightful, and written only the way that Greg Egan can do so.

Skyhorse Publishing, under our Night Shade and Talos imprints, is proud to publish a broad range of titles for readers interested in science fiction (space opera, time travel, hard SF, alien invasion, near-future dystopia), fantasy (grimdark, sword and sorcery, contemporary urban fantasy, steampunk, alternative history), and horror (zombies, vampires, and the occult and supernatural), and much more. While not every title we publish becomes a New York Times bestseller, a national bestseller, or a Hugo or Nebula award-winner, we are committed to publishing quality books from a diverse group of authors.

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station into the nineteen eighties, spending a fortune on a thirty-second computer-animated station ID (a fleet of pirouetting, crenellated spaceships firing crucifix-shaped missiles into a relief map of the USA, chiselling out the station logo of Liberty, holding up, not a torch, but a cross), showing the latest, slickest gospel rock video clips, ‘Christian’ soap operas and ‘Christian’ game shows, and, above all, identifying issues — communism, depravity, godlessness in schools — which could

whatsoever as to the outcome. No doubt? Surely that was pride speaking, his wiliest and most persistent enemy. Every man and woman forever trod the edge of a precipice over the inferno, at risk more than ever of falling to those hungry flames when he or she least believed it possible. Shawcross stood and walked over to the woman. Without hesitation, he placed one hand on her ankle. She opened her eyes and sat up, regarding him with amusement, then took hold of his wrist and began to drag

I was alone, and it was farcical to go through the charade of pretending otherwise. Then again, sometimes I woke in the night, absolutely convinced that I was dying, or something else equally absurd. In the sway of some half-forgotten dream, all manner of confusion is possible. It never meant a thing, and by morning I was always myself again. When I saw the story on Craig Bentley’s service - he called it “research,” but his “volunteers” paid for the privilege of taking part in his experiments

and dried them, then sprayed something into them which prevented a recurrence. Then, for several minutes, Lindhquist was silent. When he finally spoke, he said, very softly, ‘All we’re waiting for now is the movement of the sun, the correct positioning of your shadows. Be patient for just a little longer.’ I don’t remember clearly what I felt in those last seconds. I was so tired, so confused, so uncertain. I do remember thinking: How will I know when the moment has passed? When Lindhquist

through the optical fibres. From the slums of Calcutta to the mansions of Beverly Hills, I am the Zeitgeist, the Spirit of the Age— I wake suddenly, and hear myself swearing, before I even know why. Then I realise I’ve wet the bed. * * * * James flies in dozens of the top neurologists from around the world, and arranges remote consultations with another ten. They argue about the precise interpretation of my symptoms — but their recommendations for treatment are all essentially the

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