Lovecraft Country by Matt Ruff

Lovecraft Country by Matt Ruff

Author:Matt Ruff [Ruff, Matt]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Fantasy, Horror, Historical Fictionl
ISBN: 9780062292063
Google: mGsfrgEACAAJ
Amazon: 0062292064
Barnesnoble: 0062292064
Goodreads: 25142937
Publisher: Harper
Published: 2016-02-15T11:00:00+00:00


The air on the beach was warmer.

The salt breeze blowing in over the gently plashing surf felt like late spring or early fall. The shoulder season, Hippolyta thought: Tourist cabins would be a bargain, provided you could find someone to rent to you. She breathed deeply, the sea air differently scented than that of her native Atlantic but containing sufficient oxygen—she didn’t grow dizzy or faint.

The sand felt strangely springy. Hippolyta looked down and bounced experimentally on the balls of her feet. It wasn’t the sand, she realized: It was her. She was lighter. Not much—unlike Orithyia Blue on Mars or Ganymede, she did not go bounding into the air—just enough to feel it in the tendons of her ankles as they flexed: gravity turned down a notch.

Smiling, Hippolyta stretched out her arms, went up on tiptoe, and executed a graceful half-pirouette. To face, behind her, a seven-by-three-foot rectangle cut out of the fabric of reality, through which could be seen the chilly interior of the dome on Warlock Hill. The doorway on this end was framed by thin bars of light that cast a faint glow on the sand.

She walked around it, curious to see what it looked like from the backside. Not like much: Though the glowing frame was visible from every angle, when viewed from behind it was an empty frame, the same beach inside and outside the lines. She circled around to the front again, watched Wisconsin rotate back into view out of nowhere. “OK,” she said nodding.

Next she surveyed her wider surroundings. The beach fronted on a high rocky cliff, atop which Hippolyta could make out a line of trees, their leaves shining silver in the light from the galaxy. To her left the cliff ran straight as far as she could see, the strip of beach in front of it unbroken save for a single boulder, a dark lump on the sand in the middle distance. But to her right, just a couple of hundred yards away, a ridge of rock extended fingerlike from the cliff, forming a high promontory that cut down across the sand to the water. The side of the ridge was marked by a gray zigzag that registered instantly as a staircase, and up top she could see two buildings. One, set back near where the ridge joined the cliff, appeared to be a single-story flat-roofed structure; the other, located at the very end of the promontory overlooking the water, was dome-shaped, and while it was difficult to make out details, Hippolyta would have sworn she detected the bulge of a telescope hatch.

Just a quick look around, she thought. In and out. But what happens—looking back through the doorway to Earth, she made herself ask the question—what happens if, while you’re up there, somebody comes and turns the machine off?

You wake up, she answered. Because this is a dream. Obviously.

The warm sea breeze, caressing her cheek, begged to differ on that point.

She ignored it.



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