I can’t look any more at Daria. How do you look at something that isn’t there? I turn my head and see Agent Alcozer round the corner of the hallway outside the apartment, running toward us.
And then, at that moment and not a second before, I remember what stank about San Cristobel.
The scam went through fine. But afterward, Moshe came to me. “They want to do it again, this time with a mole. They’ve actually got someone inside the feds, in the Central Investigative Bureau. It looks good.”
“Get me the details,” I said. And when Moshe did, I rejected the deal.
“But why?” Anguished—Moshe hated to let a profitable thing go.
“Because,” I said, and wouldn’t say more. He argued, but I stood firm. The new deal involved another organization, the one the mole came from. The Pure of Heart and Planet. Eco-nuts, into a lot of things on both sides of the law, but I knew what Moshe did not and wouldn’t have cared about if he had. The Pure of Heart and Planet were connected with the second big attack on LifeLong, on that Greek island. The Pure of Heart and Planet along with their mole in the feds, altered and augmented in sacrifice to the greater glory of biological purity, a guy from what used to be Des Moines.
Alcozer runs faster than humanly possible. He carries something in his hands, a thick rod with knobs that I don’t recognize. Weapons change in ten years. Everything changes.
And Daria knows. She looks at Alcozer, and she doesn’t move.
The bodyguards don’t move, either, and I realize that of course they’ve reactivated the force-fence around the apartment. It makes no difference. Alcozer barrels through it; whatever the military has developed for the Central Investigative Bureau, it trumps whatever Sequene has. It handles the guard ’bot, too, which just shuts down, erased by what must be the jammer of all jammers.
The human bodyguard isn’t quite so easy. He fires at Alcozer, and the mole staggers. Blood howls out of him. As he goes down he throws something, so small you might not notice it if you didn’t know what was happening. I know; this is the first weapon that I actually recognize, although undoubtedly it’s been upgraded. Primitive. Contained. Lethal enough to do what it needs to without risking a hull breach, no matter where on an orbital or shuttle you set it off. An MPG, mini personal grenade, and all at once I’m back on Cyprus, in the Army, and training unused for sixty-five years surfaces in my muscles like blossoming spores.
I lurch forward. Not smooth, nothing my drill sergeant would be proud of. But I never hesitate, not for a nanosecond.
I can only save one of them. No time for anything else. Daria stands, beautiful as the moment I saw her in that taverna, in her green eyes a welcome for death. Overdue, so what kept you already? But those would be my words, not hers. Daria has no words, which are for the living.
I hit Rosie’s solid flesh more like a dropped piano than a rescuing knight. We both go down—whump!—and I roll with her under the antique table, which is there after all, a heavy marble slab. My roll takes Rosie, the beloved of my faithful friend Stevan, against the wall, with me on the outside. I never hear the grenade; they have been upgraded. Electromagnetic waves, nothing as crude as fragments. Burns sluice across my back like burning oil. The table cracks and half falls.
Then darkness.
Romani have a saying: Rom corel khajnja, Gadzo corel farma. Gypsies steal the chicken, but it is the gaje who steal the whole farm. Yes.
Yes.
I wake in a white bed, in a white room, wearing white bandages under a white blanket. It’s like doctors think that color hurts. Geoff sits beside my bed. When I stir, he leans forward.
“Dad?”
“I’m here.”
“How do you feel?”
The inevitable, stupid question. I was MPG-fragged, a table fell on me, how should I feel? But Geoff realizes this. He says, quietly, “She’s dead.”
“Rosie?”
He looks blank—as well he might. “Who’s Rosie?”
“What did I say? I don’t feel . . . I can’t . . .”
“Just rest, Dad. Don’t try to talk. I just want you to know that Daria Cleary’s dead.”
“I know,” I say. She’s been dead a long time.
“So is that terrorist. Dead. It turns out he was actually a federal agent—can you believe it? But the woman you saved, Mrs. Kowalski, she’s all right.”
“Where is she?”
“She went back downstairs. Changed her mind about D-treatment. Now the newsholos want to interview her and they can’t find her.”
And they never will. I think about Stevan and Rosie . . . and Daria. It isn’t pain I feel, although that might be because the doctors have stuck on my neck a patch the size of Rhode Island. Not pain, but hollowness. Emptiness. Cold winds blow right through me.
When there’s nothing left to desire, you’re finished.
In the hallway, ’bots roll softly past. Dishes clink. People murmur and someplace a bell chimes. Hollowness. Emptiness.
“Dad,” Geoff says, and his tone changes. “You saved that woman’s life. You didn’t even know her, she was just some crazy woman you were being kind to, and you saved her life. You’re a hero.”
Slowly I turn my head to look at him. Geoff’s eyes shine. His thin lips work up and down. “I’m so proud of you.”
So it’s a joke. All of it—a bad joke. You’d think the Master of the Universe could do better. I go on an insane quest for a ring eaten by a robotic dog, I assist in the mercy killing of the only woman I ever loved, I save the life of one of the best criminals on the planet—my own partner-in-law in so many grand larcenies that Geoff’s head would spin—and the punch line is that my son is proud of me. Proud. This makes sense?
But a little of the hollowness fills. A little of the cold wind abates.
Geoff goes on, “I told Bobby and Eric what you did. They’re proud of their grampops, too. So is Gloria. They all can’t wait for you to come back home.”
“That’s nice,” I say. Grampops—what a word. But the wind abates a little more.
“Sleep, now, Dad,” Geoff says. He hesitates, then leans over and kisses my forehead.
I feel my son’s kiss there long after he leaves.
So I don’t tell him that I’m not going back home anytime soon. I’m going to have the D-treatment, after all. When I do have to tell him, I’ll say that I want to live to see my grandsons grow up. Maybe this is even true. Okay—it is true, but the idea is so new I need time to get used to it.
My other reason for getting D-treatment is stronger, fiercer. It’s been there so much longer.
I want a piece of Daria with me. In the old days, I had her in a ring. But that was then, and this is now, and I’ll take what I can get. It is, will have to be, enough.
NANCY KRESS
“Fountain of Age” is a “stutter story”—I started it, stopped it, began again later, repeated the first few paragraphs, gave up and started over. I had the voice of Max right away, and since it’s not one I’d written in before, I really wanted to attempt the story. I also had a vague idea that I wanted to use all the research I’d done on the Rom for a novel that never got off the ground. What I didn’t have was a plot. Then I happened to be reading an article on cancer-cell growth—actually, I’m often reading an article on that fascinating and slippery subject—and I realized that Daria was immortal. From there, the rest of the story flowed easily, fueled by the frustrations that are an inevitable part of love.
My son said, “How are you going to write about theft by computer? You can barely turn yours on.” Bratty kid. I said, “I’m not going to write about theft by computer, I’m going to write around it.” This turned out to be fun: getting in touch with my inner criminal. I may do it again.
PAST NEBULA AWARD WINNERS
1965
Best Novel: Dune by Frank Herbert
Best Novella (tie): “The Saliva Tree” by Brian W. Aldiss “He Who Shapes” by Roger Zelazny
Best Novelette: “The Doors of His Face, the
Lamps of His Mouth” by Roger Zelazny
Best Short Story: “ ‘Repent, Harlequin!’ Said the Ticktockman” by Harlan Ellison
1966
Best Novel (tie): Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes Babel-17 by Samuel R. Delany
Best Novella: “The Last Castle” by Jack Vance
Best Novelette: “Call Him Lord” by Gordon R. Dickson
Best Short Story: “The Secret Place” by Richard McKenna
1967
Best Novel: The Einstein Intersection by Samuel R. Delany
Best Novella: “Behold the Man” by Michael Moorcock
Best Novelette: “Gonna Roll the Bones” by Fritz Leiber
Best Short Story: “Aye, and Gomorrah” by Samuel R. Delany
1968
Best Novel: Rite of Passage by Alexei Panshin
Best Novella: “Dragonrider” by Anne McCaffrey
Best Novelette: “Mother to the World” by Richard Wilson
Best Short Story: “The Planners” by Kate Wilhelm
1969
Best Novel: The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin
Best Novella: “A Boy and His Dog” by Harlan Ellison
Best Novelette: “Time Considered as a Helix of Semi-Precious Stones” by Samuel R. Delany
Best Short Story: “Passengers” by Robert Silverberg
1970
Best Novel: Ringworld by Larry Niven
Best Novella: “Ill Met in Lankhmar” by Fritz Leiber
Best Novelette: “Slow Sculpture” by Theodore Sturgeon
Best Short Story: No award
1971
Best Novel: A Time of Changes by Robert Silverberg
Best Novella: “The Missing Man” by Katherine MacLean
Best Novelette: “The Queen of Air and Darkness” by Poul Anderson
Best Short Story: “Good News from the Vatican” by Robert Silverberg
1972
Best Novel: The Gods Themselves by Isaac Asimov
Best Novella: “A Meeting with Medusa” by Arthur C. Clarke
Best Novelette: “Goat Song” by Poul Anderson
Best Short Story: “When It Changed” by Joanna Russ
1973
Best Novel: Rendezvous with Rama by Arthur C. Clarke
Best Novella: “The Death of Doctor Island” by Gene Wolfe
Best Novelette: “Of Mist, and Grass, and Sand” by Vonda N. McIntyre
Best Short Story: “Love Is the Plan the Plan Is Death” by James Tiptree, Jr.
Best Dramatic Presentation: Soylent Green, screenplay by Stanley R. Greenberg (based on the novel Make Room! Make Room!)
Harry Harrison for Make Room! Make Room!
1974
Best Novel: The Dispossessed by Ursula K. Le Guin
Best Novella: “Born with the Dead” by Robert Silverberg
Best Novelette: “If the Stars Are Gods” by Gordon Eklund and Gregory Benford
Best Short Story: “The Day Before the Revolution” by Ursula K. Le Guin
Best Dramatic Presentation: Sleeper by Woody Allen
1975
Best Novel: The Forever War by Joe Haldeman
Best Novella: “Home Is the Hangman” by Roger Zelazny
Best Novelette: “San Diego Lightfoot Sue” by Tom Reamy
Best Short Story: “Catch that Zeppelin!” by Fritz Leiber
Best Dramatic Writing: Mel Brooks and Gene Wilder for Young Frankenstein
1976
Best Novel: Man Plus by Frederik Pohl
Best Novella: “Houston, Houston, Do You Read?” by James Tiptree, Jr.
Best Novelette: “The Bicentennial Man” by Isaac Asimov
Best Short Story: “A Crowd of Shadows” by Charles L. Grant
1977
Best Novel: Gateway by Frederik Pohl
Best Novella: “Stardance” by Spider and Jeanne Robinson
Best Novelette: “The Screwfly Solution” by Raccoona Sheldon
Best Short Story: “Jeffty Is Five” by Harlan Ellison
Special Award: Star Wars
1978
Best Novel: Dreamsnake by Vonda N. McIntyre
Best Novella: “The Persistence of Vision” by John Varley
Best Novelette: “A Glow of Candles, a Unicorn’s Eye” by Charles L. Grant
Best Short Story: “Stone” by Edward Bryant
1979
Best Novel: The Fountains of Paradise by Arthur C. Clarke
Best Novella: “Enemy Mine” by Barry Longyear
Best Novelette: “Sandkings” by George R. R. Martin
Best Short Story: “giANTS” by Edward Bryant
1980
Best Novel: Timescape by Gregory Benford
Best Novella: “The Unicorn Tapestry” by Suzy McKee Charnas
Best Novelette: “The Ugly Chickens” by Howard Waldrop
Best Short Story: “Grotto of the Dancing Deer” by Clifford D. Simak
1981
Best Novella: “The Saturn Game” by Poul Anderson
Best Novelette: “The Quickening” by Michael Bishop
Best Short Story: “The Bone Flute” by Lisa Tuttle (This Nebula Award was declined by the author.)
1982
Best Novel: No Enemy but Time by Michael Bishop
Best Novella: “Another Orphan” by John Kessel
Best Novelette: “Fire Watch” by Connie Willis
Best Short Story: “A Letter from the Clearys” by Connie Willis
1983
Best Novel: Startide Rising by David Brin
Best Novella: “Hardfought” by Greg Bear
Best Novelette: “Blood Music” by Greg Bear
Best Short Story: “The Peacemaker” by Gardner Dozois
1984
Best Novel: Neuromancer by William Gibson
Best Novella: “PRESS ENTERâ– ” by John Varley
Best Novelette: “Bloodchild” by Octavia E. Butler
Best Short Story: “Morning Child” by Gardner Dozois
1985
Best Novel: Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card
Best Novella: “Sailing to Byzantium” by Robert Silverberg
Best Novelette: “Portraits of His Children” by George R. R. Martin
Best Short Story: “Out of All Them Bright Stars” by Nancy Kress
1986
Best Novel: Speaker for the Dead by Orson Scott Card
Best Novella: “R & R” by Lucius Shepard
Best Novelette: “The Girl Who Fell into the Sky” by Kate Wilhelm
Best Short Story: “Tangents” by Greg Bear
1987
Best Novel: The Falling Woman by Pat Murphy
Best Novella: “The Blind Geometer” by Kim Stanley Robinson
Best Novelette: “Rachel in Love” by Pat Murphy
Best Short Story: “Forever Yours, Anna” by Kate Wilhelm
1988
Best Novel: Falling Free by Lois McMaster Bujold
Best Novella: “The Last of the Winnebagos” by Connie Willis
Best Novelette: “Schrodinger’s Kitten” by George Alec Effinger
Best Short Story: “Bible Stories for Adults, No. 17: The Deluge” by James Morrow
1989
Best Novel: The Healer’s War by Elizabeth Ann Scarborough
Best Novella: “The Mountains of Mourning” by Lois McMaster Bujold