Card, Orson Scott (ed) - Future on Ice / Кард, Орсон Скотт (ред) - Будущее на льду [2000, EPUB, ENG]

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Orson Scott Card (ed) - Future on Ice

Название: Future on Ice / Будущее на льду
Год выпуска: 2000
Под редакцией: Card, Orson Scott / Кард, Орсон Скотт
Издательство: Tor
ISBN: 978-0-312-87296-0
Формат: EPUB
Качество: OCR
Язык: английский

Антология лучшей (по мнению составителя, естественно) фантастики 80-х. Была задумана как парная к антологии "Future on Fire" 1991 года и предполагалась к выходу вслед за ней. Но была опубликована только в 1998 году.
Preface by Orson Scott Card
Science Fiction and "The Force" by Orson Scott Card
Robot Dreams / Сны роботов short story by Isaac Asimov
Portraits of His Children / Портреты его детей novelette by George R. R. Martin
Tourists short story by Lisa Goldstein
Blood Music / Музыка, звучащая в крови novelette by Greg Bear
Time's Rub short story by Gregory Benford
Shanidar / Шанидар novelette by David Zindell
Speech Sounds / Звуки речи short story by Octavia E. Butler
Snow short story by John Crowley
Klein's Machine short story by Andrew Weiner
Pots novelette by C. J. Cherryh
Press Enter■ / Нажмите «ВВОД» novella by John Varley
Dinosaurs novelette by Walter Jon Williams
Face Value short story by Karen Joy Fowler
Cabracan short story by Lewis Shiner
Rockabye Baby novelette by S. C. Sykes
The Pure Product novelette by John Kessel
Out of All Them Bright Stars / Среди всех ярких звёзд short story by Nancy Kress
The Fringe / На краю пустыни novelette by Orson Scott Card

John Crowley

I don’t think Georgie would ever have got one for herself: She was at once unsentimental and a little in awe of death. No, it was her first husband—an immensely rich and (from Georgie’s description) a strangely weepy guy, who had got it for her. Or for himself, actually, of course. He was to be the beneficiary. Only he died himself shortly after it was installed. If installed is the right word. After he died, Georgie got rid of most of what she’d inherited from him, liquidated it. It was cash that she had liked best about that marriage anyway; but the Wasp couldn’t really be got rid of. Georgie ignored it.
In fact the thing really was about the size of a wasp of the largest kind, and it had the same lazy and mindless fight. And of course it really was a bug, not of the insect kind but of the surveillance kind. And so its name fit all around: one of those bits of accidental poetry the world generates without thinking. O Death, where is thy sting?
Georgie ignored it, but it was hard to avoid; you had to be a little careful around it; it followed Georgie at a variable distance, depending on her motions and the numbers of other people around her, the level of light; and the tone of her voice. And there was always the danger you might shut it in a door or knock it down with a tennis racket.
. . .
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