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The Falcon [MultiFormat]
eBook by James P. Hogan
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$1.25 |
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$1.06 |
eBook Category: Science Fiction
eBook Description: Strange escape from a world of nightmares.
eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Apex Science Fiction and Horror, Volume 1, Issue 2, 2005
Fictionwise Release Date: March 2006
Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [263 KB], eReader (PDB) [48 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [36 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [33 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [89 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [106 KB], hiebook (KML) [132 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [66 KB], iSilo (PDB) [30 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [38 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [65 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [50 KB]
Words: 10526
Reading time: 30-42 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
 
Myriam lay at that halfway stage of knowing she was waking up and not wanting to; that sleep was receding and would deliver her inexorably to another day of life that she would rather not have to face.
These were the moments when the after-images of dreams that would quickly fade still lingered. The dream had been another of those she had been having lately that left her in a strangely mixed state of feeling a glow of well-being from the release she had briefly known, and yet at the same time, troubled. There had been in a town by water where boats were moored, and little shops and restaurants facing it across a quay. It was a colorful town, where people shared their thoughts with one another and smiled openly without fear. Then Myriam had found herself with a group of them inside a room somewhere. She had wanted to be one of them but she couldn't comprehend freedom from fear. There was a young man with black hair and pale blue eyes, in his early twenties, maybe--just a few years older than herself. She had wanted to be with him because he made her feel secure. But he gave a porcelain figurine as a gift to another girl, with fair hair, dressed in green, and when Myriam was alone she had thrown it on the floor and then tried to hide the pieces. It troubled her that such a side to her could exist and be beyond her ability to control, even in a dream. She felt as if she had glimpsed a hidden part of herself that she didn't want to know.
Sounds from the world beyond filtered through her cocoon to peel the last shreds of sleep away. Air entering through the ceiling vent, accompanied by the judder of vibrations in the ducting; water flowing in pipes behind the wall, telling of others in the building already showering and bathing; early traffic on the street outside, punctuated by a public address speaker babbling unintelligibly in the distance. She tensed. It could come at any moment. Perhaps she had just a few more precious minutes yet?...
As if cued by her thought, strident wake-up music burst forth from the videcon unit commanding the room. Myriam forced her eyes to open. They felt as if they had been glued. On the screen high in the far corner, a troupe of showgirls in spangle panties and military-style tops were parading through a routine with toy rifles against a backdrop of clips showing tanks and slow-goose-stepping guards. She left it on to shake herself fully into wakefulness. At least the light and the colors were a distraction from the drabness and utilitarian furnishings of the room.
Myriam sat up and shivered. It was winter, and the heating was only just coming on with the morning power ration. The lamp across the street was still on, making an orange blur on the thin window blind. She tottered across to the closet, groped for a clean work tunic, and made her way through to the bathroom. A voice from the videcon behind was reminding her that this was another National Maximum Effort Day. Working together they would make it the best ever.
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Leisha and Greg were already eating at the corner table when Myriam arrived downstairs in the apartment house's shared kitchen. She crossed over to the refrigerator and unlocked her personal compartment inside. There was dried egg and batter mix that would have made a pancake, but the thought wasn't appetizing. She settled for the remains of some canned fruit with crackers and a pâté of cheese spread, and spooned coffee granules from the communal tin into a mug. As Myriam pulled a stool out from under the side bar, Dolores came in and went to the refrigerator in her turn. There were no words of greeting. The room with its stained and faded wallpaper, scratched appliances, and plain, greasy tiles behind the stove reflected the listlessness of it occupants.
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