– Sage of Todd Island Larry Dever knelt in darkness at East Gate, knees in damp gravel and hands on cold granular bars. Pre-dawn mists flattened his shock of yellow hair. Cool droplets clung to his young angular face. Jerkin and fibrejeans moist. ‘Share and update,’ murmured Larry. ‘I share,’ said his Belt, blinking an amorphous chalcogenide telltale. ‘The Park will be warm this day – ninety-two degrees – clear. Pickables: numerous.’ The long night had chilled his bones. Where was that sun? Where was warmth? ‘Sex?’ ‘Probability zero point two,’ said Belt. Larry smiled. That was probably too high, considering his youth – when gonadal activity was over 98 percent anticipatory. He rested his bony face against the bars – a Dever face that carried the heavy malar and mandibular lines of his clan. The eastern sky lightened to blue, then pale ochre, as it slowly extruded a copper solar disc that rose and drove the fog from the lake. ‘Finally.’ Optics rotated on a sentry pole.
What do You think about The Godwhale (S.F. Masterworks)?
