The facsimile temple or tomb was only a few meters thick, little more than an archway; a path lined with worn nonskid led up through the half-darkness to light beyond. I did send money home. Why is it so quiet outside? What are they doing out there?The answer comes with a stuttering roar. But I was going over my grandmother’s life, exploring it the way Lewis and Clark explored the Missouri River and Rocky Mountains.
The flow of departures slowed a little momentarily, then resumed, and a file split off from the main channel of workers to march in the direction of the mine. The Night TrainLAVIE TIDHARHere’s another story by Lavie Tidhar, whose “The Spontaneous Knotting of an Agitated String” appears elsewhere in this anthology. He found a Philip Glass CD and placed it in the mouth of the player, then went to bed. Where Wade is now.
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