by Trent Jamieson
Some places you visit in dreams again and again. Some places visit you. Fourteen and it found me.
I stood knee deep in grass, brittle, yellowing, summer grass. The citadel rose above me, its clockwork beat roaring in my head; gears and wheels rumbling, ticking, tocking, groaning under the weight of all that time.
On the furthest buttress from me, though I dared not look, I knew he would be there, a single figure hanging, broken-necked, spinning in short circles, dancing on the dry hot wind.
And because I was doomed, because the dream was a tide and inevitability, I walked towards the citadel.
When I was near, so close that I could almost touch it, the ground shook and the brass doors at the tower’s base flung open like the wings of an iron dragon and I stared into the guts of the machine.
About the Author
SF writer and Silent Motion Picture Actor, Trent Jamieson should be 106 years old, but is only 36 on account of TEMPORAL RADIATION. He lives in Brisbane with his wife, Diana. He is currently writing a series of novels called Death Works, due to be published by Orbit in 2010-2011. They’re about Death.
About the Narrator
Ben Phillips is a programmer and musician living in New Orleans. He was a chief editor of Pseudopod from 2006-2010.