House of Suns

by Alastair Reynolds

The stasis field locked on. The Synchromesh took hold. I hurtled into my own future, while my ship ate space and time.

She was usually caught with her back to us, a distant figure standing on some cliff or high building with one hand on her hip and another shielding her eyes from the sun, lost in the rapture of scale and scenery, drunk on the very idea of being human, a monkey who had hit the big time.