Asimov's Science Fiction 2006-09 by Dell Magazine Authors

Author:Dell Magazine Authors [Authors, Dell Magazine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Magazine, 2012
Publisher: Dell Magazines
Published: 2010-07-03T04:00:00+00:00

WE ARE THE CAT by Carl Frederick

Carl Frederick is a theoretical physicist, at least theoretically. After a post-doc at NASA and a stint at Cornell Uni-versity, he left theoretical astrophysics and his first love, quantum relativity theory, in favor of hi-tech industry. The inventor of the first commercial digital modem, he now works as the chief scientist of a small company doing AI software. He has two more-or-less grown children and shares his house with a pet robot. For recreation, Carl fences épée, learns languages, and plays the bagpipes. He lives in rural Ithaca, New York. (He tells us rural is good if you play the bagpipes.) A graduate of the Odyssey Writers Workshop, his work has primarily appeared in Analog. Carl also has an interactive novel on his website—www.dark zoo.net—. You can click on the story to change the points of view and to expose sub-plots. (While there, you can also hear a nifty translation of the fruit-fly genome to music.)

Over the din of falling rocks crashing against the sheer walls of the shaft, Paul heard a scream of pain.

"God damn it,” Paul shouted, “I said don't look up.” He squeezed himself into a cleft in the flare-out chamber. And cowering there, just meters from the entrance pit, he hoped that none of the rocks raining down onto his hard hat would be massive enough to break his neck.

He turned his head slightly, slewing the beam of his miner's lamp to illuminate Alex. At the same moment, the beam from Alex's lamp moved as well and Paul squinted against the sudden brilliance. Had they been under the sunlit sky and not in the blackness of a cave, they would be looking each other in the eye.

Again, Paul heard a sound of pain, this time a moan, and swung his head and beam to the source: the third spelunker, Conrad Frith. Almost buried in the tumble of rocks, Conrad had slumped to the cave floor and seemed unconscious. His hard hat sat askew on his head, and the electric miner's lamp was dark.

As abruptly as it had started, the pummeling of rocks subsided and the roar of the limestone avalanche, amplified by the resonances of the caverns, went silent. When his hearing had adjusted to the eerie quiet, Paul could hear only the dripping water from the tips of the stalactites.

After a few moments, when he felt confident that no more rocks would fall, Paul pushed himself out of the small cleft in the cave wall and surveyed the damage.

He moved toward Alex, just a few meters away. “Are you okay?"

Alex took a step away from the wall that he'd squeezed against, but then let himself slide down to a sitting position. His face, which had registered fear, now showed a mix of relief and pain. He winced as he massaged his left leg just below the knee.

"Jeez,” he said. “Hurts like hell.” He explored the limb with both hands. “But I don't think it's broken.” He wiggled his shoulder blades and let out a breath through pursed lips.

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