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[英文] 《The Engines of God》作者: - Jack McDevitt 【EPUB】

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发表于 2013-11-11 10:41 | 显示全部楼层 |阅读模式
THE ENGINES OF GOD Jack McDevittIn the streets of Hau-kai we wait. Night comes winter descends. The lights of theworld grow cold. And in this three-hundredth year From the ascendancy of Bilat Hewill come who treads the dawn Tramples the sun beneath his feet. And judges thesouls of men. He will stride across the rooftops. And he will fire the engines of God.—Uranic Book of Prayer Quraqua Translated by Margaret TufuPROLOGUElapetus. Sunday February 12 2197 0845 GMT.The thing was carved of ice and rock. It stood serenely on that bleak snow-coveredplain a nightmare figure of gently curving claws surreal eyes and lean fluidity. Thelips were parted rounded almost sexual. Priscilla Hutchins wasnt sure why it was sodisquieting. It was more than the carnivorous aspect of the creature the long slowmenace of talons the moonlight stealth of the lower limbs. It was more even than thevaguely aggressive stance or the position of the figure in the center of an otherwiselifeless plain beneath the October light of Saturns rings.Rather it seemed to flow from its interest in the ringed world which was foreverfrozen above a tract of low hills and ridges in the west. Stamped on its icy featureswas an expression she could only have described as philosophical ferocity.quotI keep coming back.quot Richards voice echoed in her earphones. It was filled withemotion. quotOf all the Monuments this was the first and it is the centerpiece.quotThey stood on a ramp designed to preserve the tracks of the original expedition.Here was where Terri Case had stood and there Cathie Chung. The heavybootprints circling the figure up close those belonged to Steinitz himself. She knewbecause shed seen the ancient video records countless times had watched theastronauts clumping about in their awkward pressure suits.She smiled at the memory pushing her hands down into her pockets watchingRichard Wald in his rumpled gray jeans and white sweater his Irish country hatpressed down on his head. It didnt quite fit within the bubble of articulated energythat provided breathing space. He was slightly out of focus difficult to see within theFlickinger field. Much ashe was in ordinary life. Richard was one of the great names in archeology. He wouldbe remembered as long as people were interested in

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