These were the big freezers you’d find in a lab. But that was a feeble refutation; one might as well, in a lucid dream, deny that any reality existed, forgetting the ground state or brute physical substrate needed to sustain the dream. Crouse trots after her. She supposed this was how she had met Malcolm Schleif, although there was no mention of him in these pages.
Aidan Doyle, “Stone Flowers,” Fantasy, September. Your apparent isolation, your apparent diminishment, is simply an artefact of there being two of you here, two rival versions of the original Fabbro. A hundred and sixty thousand years ago an axe maker had thrown it down in disgust. There are some wild crops here, too.
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