Stories from Asimov's have won 41 Hugos and 24 Nebula Awards, and our editors have received 18 Hugo Awards for Best Editor. Asimov's was also the 2001 recipient of the Locus Award for Best Magazine. Current issue also available in various electronic formats at Nightfall by Charles Stross Charles Stross A synthetic gemstone the size of a Coke can falls through silent lives in darkness. The night is quiet as the grave, colder than midwinter on Edinbur Pluto. Gossamer sails as fine as soap bubbles droop, the gust of gh, sapphire laser light that inflated them long since darkened; ancient Scotland starlight picks out the outline of a huge planet-like body beneath the , where jewel-and-cobweb corpse of the starwhisp. he destroys Eight years have passed since the good ship Field Circus slipped laptop into close orbit around the frigid brown dwarf Hyundai +4904/-56. keyboar Five years have gone by since the launch lasers of the Ring ds for a Imperium shut down without warning, stranding the light sail living. powered craft three light years from home. There has been no The first response from the router, the strange alien artifact in orbit around story in the brown dwarf, since the crew of the starwhisp uploaded this themselves through its strange quantum entanglement interface for series, transmission to whatever alien network it connects to. In fact, "Lobster nothing happens; nothing save the slow trickle of seconds, as a s" (June watchdog timer counts down the moments remaining until it is due to 2001), resurrect stored snapshots of the crew, on the assumption that their was uploaded copies are beyond help. shortliste Meanwhile, outside the light cone? d for the Hugo Amber jolts into wakefulness, as if from a nightmare. She sits bolt award in upright, a thin sheet falling from her chest; air circulating around her 2002. back chills her rapidly, cold sweat evaporating. She mutters aloud, His unable to subvocalize, "where am I? oh. A bedroom. How did I get latest here?" mumble. "Oh, I see." Her eyes widen in horror. It? s not a book, dream. . . . Singulari ty Sky, "Greetings, human Amber," says a ghost-voice that seems to come is due from nowhere: "I see you are awake. Would you like anything?" out from Ace Amber rubs her eyes tiredly. Leaning against the bedstead, she Books in glances around cautiously. She takes in a bedside mirror, her August. reflection in it: a young woman, gaunt in the manner of those whose Another genome bears the p53 calorie-restriction hack, she has disheveled novel, blonde hair and dark eyes. She could pass for a dancer or a soldier; The not, perhaps, a queen. "What? s going on? Where am I? Who are Atrocity you, and what am I doing in your head?" Archive, Her eyes narrow. Analytical intellect comes to the fore as she takes will be stock of her surroundings. "The router," she mutters. Structures of publishe strange matter in orbit around a brown dwarf, scant light years from d by Earth. "How long ago did we come through?" Glancing round, she Golden sees a room walled in slabs of close-fitting stone. A window bay is Gryphon recessed into them, after the style of crusader castles many centuries in the in the past, but there? s no glass in it? just a blank white screen. The fall. only furniture in the room, besides a Persian carpet on the cold Subscri flagstones, is the bed she sits upon. That, and the idiot gun that ptions hovers just beneath the ceiling. She? s reminded of a scene from an old movie, Kubrick? s enigma; this whole set-up has got to be If you deliberate, and it isn? t funny. enjoyed this "I? m waiting," she announces, and leans back against the Search Now: blended asimovssciencef To contact us about editorial matters, send an email to Asimov's SF. Questions regarding subscriptions should be sent to our subscription address. If you find any Web site errors, typos or other stuff worth mentioning, please send it to the webmaster. Copyright © 2003 Dell Magazines. All Rights Reserved Worldwide