Walter Jon Williams
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"In this complex and rewarding novel, Williams has created a future which features many of the wonders sf has been promising us for years: virtual reality, genetic engineering, faster-than-light travel, artificial intelligence, nanotechnology, telepathic links with computers, and more".--Publishers Weekly.
spoiling for revenge after he killed the Chancellor. Together we could have his head.” (Her hand, once again, tightened on his arm. “I want to be with you, Gabriel.” (“You would not be able to help me,” Gabriel said. “Either I will succeed in my actions or I will fail. Putting another at risk would not increase my chance of success. The best thing you can do is to keep yourself safe.” (She dropped his arm and whirled to face him. Passion colored her cheeks, flamed in her eyes. “What does it
breath torn from his lungs. His mind whirled. His heart throbbed in panic. Yuan had done something to destroy him, something terrible, and he’d done it before he even launched his blow. Gabriel couldn’t even begin to grasp what had happened. “Walk,” said Yuan. Gabriel found himself moving to obey before his mind even comprehended the order. “Very good,” said Yuan. * “I never loved you,” said Zhenling. Gabriel had been walking the circle for hours. He had trodden a slick path into the
status like that of children, which meant their use of the Hyperlogos could be controlled. Gabriel had given him access only to historical records, scenes of distant places, to music, poetry, clearly-labeled drama. None of the oneirochronic fantasies that might confuse him. Remmy straightened in his chair, flipped his hands. “How can a vision be true?” “How can you learn to speak a foreign language just by having Clancy put a tiny machine in your head? It’s real. We’re really speaking demotic,
proceed from there. Do not bring your own coach or companions— tomorrow night I will introduce you, and at some future date you may introduce them.” “Yes, excellence.” “Very well, my young prince.” Adrian smiled with his strong black teeth. “You may take your leave.” Gabriel rose from his padded leather chair into an Posture of Formal Regard, then went to one knee— a servant had earlier provided a pillow for this purpose— bent his head, and placed the palm of his right hand to his forehead.
content to bide his time. Perhaps it felt, with Silvanus’s massive wrists, shoulders, and long arms, that it had only to wait for Gabriel to grow tired before finishing him off. Gabriel devoted himself to cold-eyed analysis of his opponent’s style. Silvanus favored edge over point, circular movement over linear, and he was tricky— he tried stomping to distract Gabriel from an attack, or deliberately rang his chain skirt to draw Gabriel’s attention down and away from his blade; he stared