By M.J. Engh
A vintage of political technological know-how fiction
Arslan is a tender Asian common who has conquered the us after which the area, with a small city in Illinois because the capital of his new empire.
Praised by means of the likes of Orson Scott Card and Samuel R. Delany, ARSLAN is a considerate yet uncompromising paintings, one that nonetheless keeps the ability to shock.
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Extra info for Arslan (SF Masterworks)
And then it was all mine. It was years since I'd held a handgun, a lot of years. It felt very effective. He wasn't smiling any more, but his whole air was too comfortable. I could well imagine the gun wasn't loaded, or was loaded with blanks. It was the sort of joke that might tickle his fancy. And if I fired a trial shot at something else, the report—if there was one—would bring his men down on me as fast as if I'd really killed him. No doubt the woods and fields were full of them already. But he was right about one thing—I couldn't afford to pass up any chance.
It was to be a feast. It was to be, all too obviously, a victory celebration. The cooks were put to work, not just in the kitchen but in the home ec room, with Maud Dollfus in charge there. Five of Maud's best students were drafted to help, and so were the music teacher (Hunt Morgan's mother Jean) and our new little librarian. The freezers were emptied. There was a regular procession of soldiers carrying cases of liquor. My phone kept ringing, and Arslan kept answering it himself, sounding brusque and casual in his ungodly language.
She nodded. She'd stopped trembling, and a little color was coming back into her fragile face. “Nobody's asking us to do anything heroic, Betty. I'm just asking you to remember you're a teacher. I expect you to behave accordingly. ” She took another shuddering breath. “Yes, Mr. ” “Good girl. ” I put an arm around her and shepherded her into the office, which comforted her and saved me from having to look at her directly. She was too young and too scared—too pretty, aside from the temporary effects of the tears.
Arslan (SF Masterworks) by M.J. Engh