The Arithmetic of Air
On Erebus Station the air is rationed by vote, and the Teller who counts the ballots has always trusted the numbers — until the day he audits them himself.
On Erebus Station the air is rationed by vote, and the Teller who counts the ballots has always trusted the numbers — until the day he audits them himself.
A memory auditor certifies which pasts are real and which are mass-produced — until he searches for the one afternoon he swore was his own.
A therolinguist is given a machine that can translate any mind — and a dying octopus no one believed was worth listening to.
Across a black hole, two peoples trade words that take centuries to arrive. Our sun is dying — and the answer we begged for is still on its way.
One sentence from the future reaches eleven thousand people at once. Humanity raises a whole Ministry to answer it — and changes nothing at all.
Everyone who ever meant to leave Earth finally did, and a house-machine named Halbert was left behind with eleven seconds of October he refuses to lose.
In a prison folded into a single endless morning, memory is wiped at every dawn. But rust needs time to grow — and one fleck of orange refuses to disappear.
They didn't take sleep by force — they offered it, and we signed. A world that abolished the night learns too late what the dark had quietly been forgiving.
On the morning they told me I would never die, I was fixing a toilet. Every generation, one citizen wins forever. That year it was a plumber.