Don’t Bite the Sun, Tanith Lee [warren buffett book recommendations .txt] 📗

“Eat,” boomed a voice out of nothing and nowhere. “Drink. You are weary.”

I stepped up to the table and, mistrusting the food despite my hunger, spoke first a magic charm. At once the whole thing went up in purple fires (surprise! surprise!) and a clap of thunder howled around the rampart. Huge winged horrors flapped down on me. I beat at them until my strength was almost exhausted, and then, using ancient incantations, managed to drive them into the fire on the table, where they were consumed. Many more demons attacked me during the long and terrible night. Blazing meteors screamed from the sky and exploded far out in the desert strength was almost exhausted, and then, using ancient incantations, managed to drive them into the fire on the table, where they were consumed. Many more demons attacked me during the long and terrible night. Blazing meteors screamed from the sky and exploded far out in the desert wastes, as I slew pythons of flame and dragons of brass. Temptations were offered me and countless mirages, all of which I resisted and all of which proved to be false. At last, toward dawn, when I knew I was almost too weary to save myself any longer, even though my beauty and my luster were still undimmed (sort of pale gold with romantic shadows under my eyes, all swooning and gorgeous) a tall figure appeared at the end of the rampart.

A male. A mythical figure and handsome beyond belief, dark-eyed and pale-haired, but with evil stamped all over his marvelous face. He drew a long and phosphorescent sword, and we were at it again. Where my extra reserves of strength arrived from was quite beyond dream-me (though real-me knew all right) but, by my insumatt skill, I at last had the being at the point of annihilation under my long dagger. But I paused. Something stopped me. His beauty clouded my reason and I could not strike. Ashamed, I flung down my blade, and cried:

“Kill me. I am unworthy to be your opponent.” And the great sword lifted and then was gone.

I looked up astonished. My enemy was my enemy no longer. Three times more marvelous, he embraced me, and told me of the ancient and terrible curse that had lain upon this place and upon him. I, by my bravery and beauty, had saved both him and his land. (Splendid!)

He led me down the steps into a wonderful hall of gold and fire, and I saw that the palace was a ruin no longer. There was the glitter, past long windows, of the unlocked rain, and all around the desert was blossoming.

To the tremulous tinkle of fountains bursting from rock, I woke up.

“Who am I?” I often thought that after a dream. “Where am I?”

It doesn’t take long to recollect, however. I felt disappointed. Life had been just beginning for me, for us. We had been going to feast and have love, and now I would never know what it was like to—Of course, I could have had that added on to the dream if I’d asked. Only I never do. I know of people who go to a Dream Room just to dream about having love, but what’s the point? I mean, you can have love any time you want, really, any way you want, and there are millions of pills and stuff to guarantee results. So why go off and dream about it too?

“You’ve been ages,” said Thinta.

It’s not the dream that takes the time—they stretch your time sense or something, and every dream lasts a regulation ten splits—it was all my pre-dream direction that hung everyone up.

Thinta was drinking silver-water cordial, but I wanted to go away alone and think about my lover, and the dragons I had fought.

“I have to dash, Thinta ooma,” I said. “I have to go back to Limbo for the first unit checkup on my new body.”

It’s true. They like to check you if you don’t stay in for a unit or so. Hergal always stays in.

“Of course, ooma,” Thinta smiled drowsily. Perhaps she wanted aloneness too. But no. “I’ll come too. We have to pay yet.”

Oh farathoom! Thinta’s such a bore about paying for things.

We trailed along to our pay booths and she was off.

“Thank you, thank you. It was absolutely groshing, groshing! Oh thank you, I’m so happy. It was so derisann! Oh! Oh! Oh!”

Oh shut up.

“Thank you,” I droned urbanely.

Machines registered protests, started to encourage me. The booths were full of people yelling their guts out with praise and joy. All right, I thought, I’ll show you.

I raised my voice.

“Oh thank you,” I screamed. I took an ecstasy pill and soared and soared. I ranted. I screeched until my throat gave out. I hugged the machinery with unbridled passion, and tears of love ran down my face.

Thinta helped me outside. She looked approving.

“You’ve been a very good girl,” she congratulated me.

Perfect sunlight hit me in the face and threw the husks of my visions at my feet. Dragons eddied on the gentle breeze. My lover faded and was gone.

4

I left Thinta and went to Limbo by Body Displacer. They’re efficient, but they tend to make you puke. No one uses them now except Older People, who think they have to be in a hurry about things and have cast platinum stomachs. I got in and threw switches and wished I hadn’t. It’s quick of course, but really I think you lose so much time being sick at the other end when you get there that you might just as well hop on a float-bridge. Anyhow, I arrived, and I did feel pretty weird, actually, as if I’d left something behind. My head or something.

Robots glared at me. They disapproved. Body Displacers are non-Jang, and non-Jang youth is obnoxious, unreasonable, tosky, zaradann.

They gave me my check. I’d lost a small, artistically placed mole in transit, and they grumbled. Otherwise my body