Sleepside: The Collected Fantasies
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Collecting six stories in old paradigms, Sleepside features Greg Bear’s outstanding fantasy writing: “Webster,” “The White Horse Child,” “Sleepside Story,” “Dead Run,” “Through Road No Whither,” and the Nebula Award finalist “Petra.” This edition also includes the special introduction by the author: “On Losing the Taint of Being a Cannibal."
previous paradigms—mind over matter, magic, dream logic, and so on. Literature does not play favorites; excellent stories have been written in all these areas. A science fiction writer who writes fantasy, however, is regarded by some as an odd bird indeed. Write science fiction, become well known for it, and—well, your fantasy stories become almost invisible. All those times when you weren't a cannibal—simply forgotten. Yet most of the great science fiction writers have written a great deal of
jumped up from the floor to catch him, but he fell away from her and collapsed on the carpet beside the chair. The book lay kicked and sprawled by his feet, top pages wrinkled and torn. Miss Coates stood over the man, hands fluttering at her breasts. He lay on his side, chest heaving, eyes closed. Her wide gaze darted from point to point on his body, lower lip held by tiny white teeth. After a few minutes, she was able to look away from the man. She squinted more closely at the dictionary,
trailers. Then I got in the cab and swung away from the annex, onto the incoming road. “I’m going to quit,” I said. “Sure as anything, I’m going to quit.” The road out seemed awfully long. I didn’t see any of the dead, surprisingly, but then maybe they’d been shunted away. I was taking a route I’d never been on before and I had no way of knowing if it would put me where I wanted to be. But I hung in there for two hours, running the truck dead-out on the flats. The air was getting grayer like
and myth intertwine. This is an early story. Olmy has experienced only one re-incarnation (Legacy, Tor, 1995). In fee for his memories, he has been rewarded with a longing to return to death everlasting. 1 “Probabilities fluctuated wildly, but always passed through zero, and gate openers, their equipment, and all associated personnel within a few hundred meters of the gate, were swallowed by a null that can only be described in terms of mathematics. It became difficult to remember that they
Olmy asked. “Another few years, perhaps.” “Not so soon, then,” he said. “Soon enough,” Enoch said with a sniff. She rubbed her nose again. “We’ve been here already for well over thousand centuries.” Olmy tried to understand this. “Truly?” he asked, expecting her to break into laughter. “Truly. I’ve had millions of different followers here. Look around you.” She leaned over the table to whisper to Olmy, “Waves in a sea. I’ve lived a thousand centuries in a thousand infinitesimally different