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