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Ethan Ellenberg
The cat’s A.I. was realistic, right down to the total lack of loyalty.
setting up a human colony on Vulcan was turning out to be a little bit like being pecked to death by ducks. Large ducks. With teeth and claws.
The biological drone spent weeks surveying the mats and immediate area. The mats actually seemed to be comprised of multiple species of plant in symbiotic relationships.
I did a fist pump, and then Garfield and I whooped and performed a high five—the nerd kind, where you miss.
“We will be going to the Groggery after our shift, to sample the latest attempt at beer. Care to tag along?”
Funny, I couldn’t remember any science-fiction stories that actually dealt with how you’d handle timekeeping on a new planet.
In the video window, the berg fell neatly into an approach that would skim the atmosphere of Ragnarök. At the proper moment, a series of explosions would convert it to ice cubes, which would all melt and fall as rain over the next few weeks. Textbook.
I briefly considered using the SUDDAR jamming, then mentally slapped myself. Jamming wasn’t like cloaking, it was like blinding everyone with a searchlight. They’d be able to follow the emission like a beacon.
“If you have some variation on a god, asshole, you might want to have a very quick conversation with him. And fuck you to hell!”
couple
From a video window off to the side, Bill began a slow clap, echoed by Charles and Ralph.
was too upset to smile back, but I did give him a shrug. “That’s for Homer.”
resolved to try shutting the hell up as a strategy.
“Don’t borrow trouble, Marv.” I sighed and sat back. “Sure as hell, something will hit the fan, but let’s worry about it when it happens.” But he was probably right.
Well, the fecal matter seems to have struck the atmospheric propulsor.
Lack of opportunity isn’t the same as self-restraint.
Yep. Just when you start to get ahead in the rat race, the universe delivers bigger rats.
walked toward the patio, cataloguing all the sensations I was receiving from Manny—the cool evening breeze, the slight unevenness of the front walkway, the brush of my clothing as I moved. And the disappearance of every inch of distance as I approached her. Like falling down a gravity well.
Skunk Works
