By Leo Frankowski
Oh, to be an engineer in a Leo Frankowski book--you've gotta be sincere and you've got gotta work flat out, yet not just do you get to be as fabulous and wealthy as an astronaut, you get to tug down greater than your percentage of the women. (Hey, in the end these lengthy hours learning fluid dynamics and platforms research, it is just fair.) again for an additional light-hearted yet rumination-filled romp, the cherished writer of the Conrad Stargard adventures turns his realization to a mythical nautical mirage, the Fata Morgana. Frankowski supposes the appearance may truly be the mythic Western Isles, which medieval mapmakers get rid of the coast of France, set adrift in an earthquake to drift the world's oceans for hundreds and hundreds of years. Fata Morgana's engineer-protagonists locate themselves, clearly, shipwrecked in this unusual island, a curious civilization of a few 12,000 humans mostly bring to a halt from present-day earth. Their tech point believably solutions the most obvious "what-ifs," with the islanders boasting complex genetics and textiles (including an indestructible "Super-Hemp") yet primitive sciences and stunted social development differently. the 2 sailors create rather a stir with their SCUBA apparatus, cans of junk mail, and superstar Wars videotapes--not to say the truth that the uncooked fabrics on their yacht cause them to wealthy during this metal-starved land--and intrigue quickly ensues. A enjoyable ebook to make sure, with pleasing problem-solving and unique rules, however the major character's unending musings on every little thing from why the govt desires us donning outfits to why a simply God cannot exist will both aggravate or allure you. (And reflect on your self warned: our leader hero truly makes use of the time period "Women's Lib" with a immediately face and is speedy to indicate he isn't "a f***ing queer!") --Paul Hughes
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Or had I died and gone to some irrational afterlife? An unfair thought. A decent Atheist like me should not have to worry about that sort of thing! The same lady brought breakfast, although this time she wore a pale blue dress, as richly embroidered and expensive looking as the last one, and of a similar cut. I guessed that if she had to work unnaturally long hours, she was at least well paid for it. I slept for a few more hours, and when I awoke, my nurse was again sitting beside me. She began teaching me the language, starting with the parts of the body.
I stayed there a bit, groaning, and then let myself slowly back under the covers. It seemed that I would live, but I was far from well. My body was a mass of bruises, from my lumpy head to my smashed toes. It felt as though every tendon, ligament, and muscle I had was pulled. Except for my eyeballs, all bodily motion was painful. The good news was that as best as I could tell, my bones were reasonably sound, I could wiggle my toes, so my spinal cord was all right, and the cuts on my back were sewn up and bandaged.
At no time did I ever imagine that she would leave me at the very moment of our victory. Now that she was gone, I didn't know where she was, and I could think of no way to contact her. Her mother wouldn't even talk to me, and I didn't see anything that I could do about that, either. Sometimes, booze is the only answer. Booze stayed the only answer for about a week and a half, until Adam showed up about noon one day and half carried me over to his place. After a few days of drying out, he and Shirley let me back into my office.
The Fata Morgana by Leo Frankowski