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eBook Category: Science Fiction
eBook Description: The following stories, and more, await you in The Administrator: A delightful fantasy voyage that puts a new twist on Alzheimer's disease; a drunk, down about as far as she can go, is ready to give up until she meets a different kind of alien, right there in the gutter; a robot suffers from comical depression, and a bad case of religion; because of a long dead, prehistoric woman, two space-faring, aging scientists give up their chance for fame and save a world; another world regains life due to one woman's faith; and a not-quite-virgin meets a dragon with a sensitive stomach.

eBook Publisher: The Fiction Works, Published: http://www.fictionworks.com, 2004
Fictionwise Release Date: March 2004

10 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [151 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [129 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [120 KB] , Portable Document Format (PDF) [421 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [133 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [129 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [183 KB] , hiebook (KML) [311 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [179 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [110 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [139 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [34 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [183 KB]
Words: 40547
Reading time: 115-162 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Portable Document Format (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

"Being God Is Hard gave even my seasoned editors a chill, and it takes a lot to do that.... One quickly realizes this is not 'fluff' genre fiction, rather a thought-provoking array of stories laced with bold social commentary."--Greg Gifune, The Edge

"S. Joan Popek is a rising new star in the (SF) genre."--Steve Algeri, Eternity Press

"The Administrator is her best work yet."--Harvey Stanbrough, Pulitzer prize nominee

"My son is a doctor, and I have three grandchildren. I always carry pictures of them. Do you have any children, Mrs. Cannon?"

Alice glanced at her inquisitive dinner companion. The woman's thin, dark face and elongated nose reminded Alice of a hawk hovering above a dying mouse. "Yes. I have a son."

"Oh, how nice. What does he do?"

Alice looked down the long banquet table at the other guests. Each suddenly became extremely interested in the contents of his or her plate. None looked at her, but the steady hum of polite dinner conversation ceased abruptly. She felt her cheeks flush slightly. It had been a long time since anyone had dared to ask that question. She had almost forgotten--almost. "He is in law enforcement," she answered quietly and reached for the wine glass.

Hushed, relieved sighs whispered down the length of the table, and the hum of conversation resumed.

"Oh really? How exciting. Is he on The Force?"

Alice faced her inquisitor. "No. He works at the prison for the criminally insane."

"Oh. Is he a guard?"

"No. Not a guard." Stillness fell over the $1,000 a plate banquet table again. This time there was no pretense of studying the food. Twenty-four sets of eyes focused on Alice. She placed the wine glass carefully on the table, dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, folded it neatly and placed it beside her plate, then her ice blue eyes caught and held the hawk woman's. "He is an administrator."

"An administrator! But, that means he's..."

Alice finished for the flustered woman. "It means he is a homicidal maniac. It means that his blood lust is kept in check by allowing him to administer punishment to murderers. It means he exchanges an eye for an eye, a sin for a sin. It means he does to them what they did to their victims. Yes, Mrs. Gilbert, he tortures and kills criminals in exactly the same way that they torture and kill innocent people. Only he does it with society's permission. And yes, Mrs. Gilbert, he thoroughly enjoys it! Would you like to see some pictures of him at work? I carry them instead of pictures of grandchildren, which I do not have."

The hawk woman's face paled, she gasped, covered her pinched, crimson mouth with a pale hand, stumbled from her chair, and rushed from the room.

"Damn it, Alice, did you have to be so graphic?" her sixth husband, Chuck, hissed under his breath at her from across the table.

"She shouldn't have been so damn nosy. The woman is a total idiot. She should have known who I am." Her voice was purposely loud enough for the other guests to hear. "Any more questions?" Her defiant gaze met each face at the table. One by one they turned from her fiery disdain and concentrated on their meals.

"I'm leaving, Chuck. Are you coming?" She arose, imposingly and gracefully, nodded toward the other guests.

"But, the charity foundation, the dinner, you organized it. Should we leave?" her husband whispered.

"We've paid our dues. I'm going. You can stay if you like." She turned and marched toward the door as a general might stride as he led his troops into deadly enemy fire. Chuck followed her. He looked back at the guests and, with an embarrassed shrug of his shoulders, disappeared though the door.