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674 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 15, 1997
"Will it be dark all the way?" Wade said, peering down the hole.
"Black as the pit. Have a good ride. "
Wade took a step up and sat his bare bottom on the ice. "Jesus. "
"Have fun!" Spiff shouted, and gave him a push and he was off, sliding on his bottom. Then the tube dropped away in the blackness and he was on his back, like a luge rider. In fact it had all the qualities of luge-insane speed, rapid turns left and right, up and down, but mostly down, down down down in gutfloating no-g drops, sliding in a stream of warm water over cold slick ice, and all in pitch blackness so
there was no way of telling where he would go next. He yowled. The cold of the ice seemed less severe as he sped up, but the air rushing over him was freezing. He shouted again at a heartstopping drop and right turn, you could crack your skull! Except he didn't.
Three or four more dramatic turns and he began to enjoy himself. Then he was flying through free space, and he shrieked just as he plunged into boiling water. His skin went nova, especially along his bottom and back.
He shot up spluttering and took several gasping breaths, shouting once or twice between them, treading water desperately. It was pitch black, he could see nothing.
"Must be the senator. "
"Just stand up, man. "
First it was capitalism versus socialism, and then capitalism versus democracy, and now science is the only thing left! And science itself is part of the battlefield, and can be corrupted.
"All stories are still alive, " he said. "All stories have colors in them. " He looked
around at them, an older man from a different culture, weathered and strange, incongruous in his red parka. "This present moment-this is clear. " [...] "The past-all stories. Nothing but stories. All colored. So we choose our colors. We choose what colors we see. "
white white white
white green white
white white white