Nebula Awards Showcase 2009

by Ellen Datlow

  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 Novel: The Claw of the Conciliator by Gene Wolfe

  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 ENTER■” 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