Chapters (77)
- Title Page
- Contents
- Dedication
- Book 1
- Part 1
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Part 2
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Part 3
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Part 4
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Part 5
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Part 6
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Part 7
- Chapter 42
- Book 2
- Part 8
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Part 9
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Part 10
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Part 11
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Map of The Land
- Acknowledgments
- About The Author
- Also By Neal Stephenson
- Copyright
He wondered how many of the other dead people had found their way here to his place. In his new body he soared above the park, supported by the leaflike appendages growing out of his back. These were poorly formed for the crowded environment of the forest but well made for movement in empty space. He bettered them, making them less like leaves, giving them a new form that could fold against his back when they were not needed, yet still spread wide when he chose to take flight. Folding these, his wings, he descended to the ground and walked on his feet through the forest, inspecting each tree, standing above each little stream watching the flow of the water and hearing its sound.
Out of the clashing waters he heard “Egdod” and remembered that this was his name.
For the most part little had changed, but from time to time when passing near a tree or squatting by a stream he would sense a little tear in the world, feel a knot of near-chaos drifting about the place, and thus know that another dead person had found their way here. Some of them came and went like snowflakes, others seemed to take up residence in trees or streams, as if they longed for bodies but had not the wit or craft to fashion their own. They latched desperately on to forms that Egdod had made, be they never so unsuitable for beings-of-Egdod-type.
At times flying with wings spread, at times walking upon the ground, he went up and down the street and ranged through the forest and roamed the park and learned the number of others who had come to his domain. He concluded that the number of souls was not many more than the number of the tiny appendages sprouting from the leaf-platforms that terminated his upper limbs. Almost as quickly as he felt the need for them, the notions came to his mind: fingers, hands, arms. Ten, and other numbers. There were between ten and twenty souls, all told, some scuttling about as dry leaves, others lodged in trees or streams. Their number was actually quite small compared to the amount of consternation that their arrival had caused him.