Motherless Brooklyn
I considered the possibilities. An accident of gas could, I reasoned, produce a sound—boiling pots bubbled merrily—but it would be plosive. It would go pop, poof, or plop. Possibly boof or bloop. Maybe—maybe—ffft or frap; a farting sound could be explained. I let my tongue and vocal cords go slack, forced air out of my lungs, and simulated these ai
... See moreRobin Sloan • Sourdough
Cheese sweats
I used to think doing stuff like that - hitting myself, slamming things - was cool. Or manly, maybe? I don’t know. Maybe I didn’t think much of it at all besides a vaguely vindicating feeling afterwards like, ‘see, I am fucked up - why else would I do something like that?’
Which makes sense given how little physical proof there is
... See more“My name’s Lucille,” she said, as she walked over to where the neon sky came down towards the edge of the building. “Lucille Firstborn.” She reached up to screw the yellow bulb into an empty socket. The light glowed evenly and she nodded in satisfaction. “Yes, I was a bulb monkey once. Over twenty-five years’ service, mending the lights. Fixing the
... See moreJeff Noon • A Man of Shadows
Heavy Java Guy LEARN THE JARGON and you can get any job. ‘Quick question, out of the gate,’ the technogeek says. ‘What have you done Unix-wise? It all seems to be,’ he glanced down at my CV, ‘shell scripting, some stuff on the thread management side. I’m wondering how I match you up with our environment. Aren’t you the heavy Java guy, done a lot of
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