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When one looks in the box, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the cat.

Reactor

So I’m sitting here quietly at my desk when I get an email from someone in Production.  That someone is working on the jacket for Kit Reed‘s new novel, Enclave, which is coming out early next year in hardcover.

As so often happens to voracious readers, Enclave has set off a memory bell in the production person’s head, recalling a piece of short fiction he read long ago.  But he can’t remember the name of the story, and though, from his description, I know I’ve read it, neither can I. 

Can someone help us?

Here’s the text of the email: 

“People are living in a very large department store.  They hide during shopping hours and come out only at night.  A nice young man joins them.  Then a nice young woman does.  The two fall in love and decide to return to the outside world.  But the residents of the department store are afraid that the young couple will reveal their secret, so they kill the young people, embalm them, and set them up in one of the display windows as mannequins.”

We know this, right?  I know someone’s going to post, it’s Story X by Author Y, and I’m going to feel like a total dolt for not remembering it. 

Addendum:  All Hail the power of the Web.  Kudos to Mary Robinette Kowal, who pegged this as John Collier’s “Evening Primrose” in less than fifteen minutes.

About the Author

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Melissa Ann Singer

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Piles of books and stuff everywhere. Tor Books editor.
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