Ada Palmer

one, without Providence behind it, would have sent this child, in this moment, so suitable a guide?

el paths, like fresh-combed hair, while the great cities bristled with so many crisscrossing journeys that Earth seemed to bleed light. Each car’s position en route was visible like a knot in the thread, crawling forward as the seconds crawled, so the whole mass scintillated like the dust of broken glass. The display is

Sidney Koons, Kat and Robin Typer, and Ojiro Sniper.”

“Nine-and-a-half counting Mycroft.”

Martin smiled. “Any other frequent guests?”

“Our regular guards and maintenance people, plus Kat or Robin bring a revolving array of dates home, Thisbe sometimes too. I’ll send you a list of recents.”

We reached the fatal spot. “Here it is, Nepos. Untouched, just as ordered.” I showed Martin the trash bin beneath a corner cabinet, where the paper marked with kanji protruded