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eBook Category: Science Fiction
eBook Description: Ewan is a collector of homunculi, those triumphs of art and science. He travels to Earth, the junkyard of the universe, to find another item for his collection. But is he willing to pay the price?

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: VB Tech Magazine, 1996
Fictionwise Release Date: April 2002

35 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [22 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [29 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [8 KB] , Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [46 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [8 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [60 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [78 KB] , hiebook (KML) [50 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [34 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [6 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [8 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [36 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [15 KB]
Words: 2207
Reading time: 6-8 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

Ewan didn't like the older worlds. Give him a place like deStijl or Acushla, where things were still lively and expanding, instead of the dullness of a world whose time has passed. The corruption seemed to assault your nostrils even a light year away, the stink of a society whose best elements have moved on.

And Earth was the worst of all. Time had turned it into the junkyard of the universe, strewn with the garbage of millennia. Ewan had never been to the planet before. Some of his friends had, but from their fawning descriptions, he knew he'd hate it. Even the pleasures of the trip in his space yacht, the Ars Longa, did nothing to soothe his frustration. He wished there had been some way to avoid all this.

But there was something here he wanted.

Ewan glanced again at the note display embedded in his wrist, reading the name and address glowing dimly there. He couldn't help but wish he were on a civilized world, where you could access a databank without the inconvenience of reading. Gavin Brainard, the note display said, along with a set of words and numbers that somehow told the hovercar its destination.

It was all so annoying. Life was too short to be bothered with chasing around the universe. Ewan had agents to handle this sort of thing, men who didn't mind the stink of unperfumed air. But Brainard had turned them away, saying he would deal only with their employer. Even when they pretended they were the actual buyer, Brainard had somehow seen through their story and turned them away.

The hovercar slid to a halt, its door sliding open with a creaking sound. Ewan took a deep breath, tried to hide the distaste he was feeling, and set foot on Earth.

The address was a ramshackle building, badly in need of a coat of glitter, made of rough brick instead of anything more modern. It was in the middle of a row of similar houses, most in need of repair, their boxy shapes making them look like they dated back to the dawn of civilization.

The door didn't open automatically when Ewan approached, and would not budge even when he remembered to turn the handle. Frustrated, Ewan banged his fist against the wood.

After an interminable wait, he heard footsteps, and the door swung open.

A man with thick glasses perched on his nose stared out sullenly. He looked ancient, even though Ewan knew from his agents that Brainard was only a few years older than himself. Ewan knew that most people couldn't afford rejuvenation treatments, but no one he knew ever had to do without. The effect was ghastly. The man's hair--that of it that grew, sparse and scraggly over his scalp--was nearly colorless, and his face was dry and covered with deep wrinkles, the skin mottled here and there by brown spots.

It disgusted Ewan. He reminded himself to get a rejuvenation treatment as soon as he got back home, just to be on the safe side.