Paper Cities, An Anthology Of Urban Fantasy - Plot & Excerpts
The whole world he sees is fallen like some Babylon torn down by bitmite builders, scoured by scarab seraphim. In the thick of flowing black, he can make out the ruin, the rubble, the jut of a skyscraper impossibly angled or the bulk of a new rookery grown out of long-abandoned docklands. A motorway flyover curves elegantly into the air, spirals around itself and ends abruptly in mid-air. The work of the bitmites. — You think they’ll stop? the consul asks him. The consul stands at the desk, tapping a finger on the leather surface of it, his drab uniform creased and sweaty. The lord architect turns to him, shakes his head, walks slowly back from the dark vision on the other side of the glass. — No…I don’t know. — We need to know, m’sire. You have to find out what they want. • Bitmites. The blind watchmaker’s clockwork toys. The lord architect has studied the fine construction of these nanite mechanisms of intension, awed by the precision timing and geared interlock of automation, the way a core command structure processes stimuli into activity, translating patterns of reception into patterns of inception.
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