The Fall of Hyperion
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In the stunning continuation of the epic adventure begun in Hyperion, Simmons returns us to a far future resplendent with drama and invention. On
the world of Hyperion, the mysterious Time Tombs are opening. And the secrets they contain mean that nothing--nothing anywhere in the universe--will ever be the same.
soldiers slept. And at least Martin Silenus had led a long, eventful life, even if half the events were obscene and the other half wasted. At the thought of Martin Silenus, I groaned aloud. Is the child, Rachel, hanging from that tree of thorns even now? For a second I pondered that, wondering if such a fate were preferable to the quick extinction of Merlin’s sickness. No. I closed my eyes, concentrated on thinking of nothing at all, hoping that I could make some contact with Sol, discover
determined bucket brigade of patrons was saving the last section. “I see Stan,” said the Consul, pointing to the huge figure of Stan Leweski standing near the head of the bucket brigade line. “Here.” The Consul helped Theo to a sitting position under an elm tree along the walkway. “How’s your head?” “Hurts.” “I’ll be right back with help,” said the Consul and moved as quickly as he could down the narrow lane toward the men. Stan Leweski stared at the Consul as if he were a ghost. The big
at the flimsy. “ … met in the Sistine Chapel and elected a new pontiff.” “So soon?” whispered Paul Duré. He closed his eyes again. “I guess they felt they must hurry. Pacem lies—what?—only ten days in front of the Ouster invasion wave. Still, to come to a decision so quickly … ” “Are you interested in who the new Pope is?” asked Gladstone. “Either Antonio Cardinal Guarducci or Agostino Cardinal Ruddell, I would guess,” said Duré. “None of the others would command a majority at this time.”
and stained. The sad face was—as were all the others—contorted in some internal agony. Martin Silenus lay three bodies away on a lower tier. Brawne crouched next to the poet, glancing over her shoulder at the black speck of the Shrike, still unmoving at the end of the rows of bodies. Like the others, Silenus appeared to be alive, in silent agony, and was attached by a shunt socket connected to a pulsating umbilical which, in turn, ran into the white wall behind the ledge as if wed to the stone.
Even Meina Gladstone and her cluster of ultra-VIPs glanced down our way. Councilor Albedo smiled more broadly. “What a delightfully odd rumor! Tell me, M. Severn, how does anyone … especially an organism such as the Core, which your own commentators have called ‘a disembodied bunch of brains, runaway programs that have escaped their circuits and spend most of their time pulling intellectual lint out of their nonexistent navels’ … how does anyone build ‘a perfect replica of Old Earth’?” I looked