Song Of Time by Ian R. MacLeod

Author:Ian R. MacLeod [MacLeod, Ian R.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: PS Publishing
Published: 2012-01-30T00:00:00+00:00

Summer is fading, and these modern autumns never last. Great hissing curtains of auroras fill the skies in winter, even this far south. The world is changing, the dead are rising, and it really is time that I left. But I’m leaving anyway—that’s not for me to decide. The virus which has long nurtured itself in my system will soon destroy these very thoughts. Everything will go. It’s going already. My incontinence will no longer be an embarrassment kept mostly under control by a careful regulation of what and when I eat and drink. My vision will fade. My hand, my limbs, my tongue, will become unruly until they lose function entirely and start to atrophy. I will become a bag of driftwood bones, withered skin, soulless pain.

There’s no point in waiting, no point in beating about the bush. Just get on with it Roushana. Mum, who feared death far less than she feared anything, would have had a field day. Leo as well—he made this step seem almost easy. If they were waiting for me, and if Claude were there, and if Dad had passed over, too, instead of the people who seemingly have, all those useless friends and acquaintances, this process would be much easier…

I lever myself up from the pillow, then inch my legs over the edge of the bed. Silence resounds around Morryn as I move towards the door, then out along the landing, and down the stairs. Adam will be sleeping, just as all the truly living do, but Morryn watches, waits, and everything remains unlit as I shuffle towards the music room and slump down at the automatic piano which the wash of the stirring sea gives an inky gleam. Slowly, quietly, I begin to pick out the notes of Les Escaliers de Mont-martre.

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