Log In Using
Facebook
Twitter
Google

Your tor.com Acct
May 16, 2012 Dress Your Marines in White Emmy Laybourne Murder in powdered form. What a life. May 9, 2012 About Fairies Pat Murphy Some things happen whether or not you clap your hands. May 3, 2012 At the Foot of the Lighthouse Erin Hoffman I am American. We are all Americans. April 25, 2012 Prophet Jennifer Bosworth Some men are born monsters. Others made so.
From The Blog
May 20, 2012
Announcing the 2011 Nebula Awards Winners
Management Services
May 18, 2012
Does the Renewal of Fringe Mark a Turning Point for Sci-Fi TV?
Scott K. Andrews
May 17, 2012
Phineas and Ferb is the Best Science Fiction on Television
Steven Padnick
May 16, 2012
Five Big Issues Raised by “The Inner Light”
Morgan Gendel
May 15, 2012
The Science of Allomancy in Mistborn: Tin
Lee Falin
Showing posts by: John Shirley click to see John Shirley's profile
Fri
Jun 17 2011 11:15am

Please enjoy this excerpt from BioShock: Rapture, out July 19th from Tor Books. This unique look into the BioShock universe is sure to thrill fans of the game and science fiction enthusiasts alike. Don’t forget to mark your intinerary for San Diego Comic-Con this year: author John Shirley will at the Tor booth signing copies!

***

1

Park Avenue, New York City
1946

Almost a year later . . .

Bill McDonagh was riding an elevator up to the top of the Andrew Ryan Arms—but he felt like he was sinking under the sea. He was toting a box of pipe fittings in one hand, tool kit in the other. He’d been sent so hastily by the maintenance manager he didn’t even have the bloody name of his customer. But his mind was on earlier doings in another building, a small office building in lower Manhattan. He’d taken the morning off from his plumbing business to interview for an assistant engineer job. The pay would start low, but the job would take him in a more ambitious direction. They had looked at him with only the faintest interest when he’d walked into the Feeben, Leiber, and Quiffe Engineering Firm. The two interviewers were a couple of snotty wankers—one of them was Feeben Junior. They seemed bored by the time they called him in, and their faint flicker of interest evaporated completely when he started talking about his background. He had done his best to speak in American phraseology, to suppress his accent. But he knew it slipped out. They were looking for some snappy young chap out of New York University, not a cockney blighter who’d worked his way through the East London School of Engineering and Mechanical Vocation.

Bill heard them say it, through the door, after they’d dismissed him: “Another limey grease monkey . . .”

[Read more]