Whatever.

There's a passage from Bruce Sterling's novel Schismatrix I've been meaning to post where half-mechanical men groove on clicks of cosmic radiation and the psychedelia of sunspots. He's a writer who trusts his readers to create their own imaginary, animated cosmos. (The book has ETs too, but they come from outside the solar system.)

Stanislaw Lem's Solaris also deals beautifully with the existential tragedy of not finding a cosmic mirror in the form of little green people.

- tom moody 4-14-2003 2:49 am






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