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Chapters (34)
  1. Cover
  2. Title page
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. 1 Organs
  6. 2 Hard Goods
  7. 3 Swimming with Eels
  8. 4 Givenchy
  9. 5 Archive Style
  10. 6 Skull Radio
  11. 7 England Calling
  12. 8 Rocket Jockeys
  13. 9 Emotional Signals Are Chemically Encoded in Tears
  14. 10 Down to the River
  15. 11 Empty Space
  16. 12 I Am Not Renoko!
  17. 13 Eaten by Dogs
  18. 14 Enantiodromic Zones
  19. 15 Random Acts of Downward Causation
  20. 16 Carshalton Shangri-La
  21. 17 Correlation States
  22. 18 It Takes Place in a Vacuum
  23. 19 Anyone Can Make a Mistake
  24. 20 Modern Luminescence
  25. 21 Everyone’s a VIP to Someone
  26. 22 The See-Not Gate
  27. 23 Heart Sounds & Bruits
  28. 24 Spike Train
  29. 25 Lowboy Orbits
  30. 26 Lizard People from Deep Time
  31. 27 The Medium is Not the Message
  32. 28 Lay Down Your Weary Tune
  33. Acknowledgements
  34. Also by M. John Harrison

A week after he arrived, Antoyne watched something strange emerge from a boarded-up building not far from the Faint Dime: the naked body of a baby, magnified to adult size and the same olive-drab colour as the frontage. At first, looking up from the sidewalk to the second floor, he had it as some kind of novelty sign. What would you advertise with a giant baby? He didn’t know. Any kind of baby was a mystery to Antoyne. He didn’t like them much. This one, which appeared perhaps three months old, protruded at an odd angle, so that its pudgy legs lolled apart. It was a girl. Antoyne averted his gaze, as if he had seen some kind of porn not to his taste. He thought he heard a faint, squeezing rustle: when he made himself look again the baby had forced itself out a millimetre or two more. It was working its way into Antoyne’s world. A voice from beside him said without preamble:

‘Have you ever been inside a quarantine hulk?’

This voice belonged to MP Renoko, a man you often met at The East Ural Nature Reserve, where he would begin a conversation by saying: ‘You agree there’s no neccessity to confuse a practical tool with a theory of the world?’ Renoko came and went, but always bought rounds of drinks.

‘I’m relieved to see you,’ Antoyne said. ‘Considering this.’

‘Considering what?’

‘That,’ Antoyne said, pointing above his head; but the baby was gone. He looked up, around, behind him: nothing.

Gravuley Street offered no aid. To the left lay darkness and the empty planet; to the right, the savagely lighted window of the Faint Dime. He could see every item of interior decoration, pressed-out and perfect in candy colours. Someone was drinking Ovaltine with rum. Someone else was getting a big-size ham on rye sandwich with fries. Antoyne wiped his mouth. The hair went up on his neck. One o’ clock in the morning, and a light wind blew dust in ribbons down the middle of the street.

‘Something was here,’ he asserted. ‘Why don’t we get a drink?’

‘I’m buying,’ said MP Renoko. ‘It seems to me you’ve had some sort of shock.’