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eBook Category: Science Fiction Locus Poll Award Nominee, Hugo Award Nominee, HOMer Award Nominee, Asimov's Reader's Choice Award Nominee
eBook Description: Nick has just completed his drowning-simulation treatment at the spa, and the near-death experience should give him a sense of inner peace ... but it isn't working. Instead of sitting alone in the woods by a small fire set by the clinic assistants, Nick moodily wanders off in the dark ... in search of nothing ... expecting nothing. The beautiful woman he spies bathing in a moonlit stream is more of a mystery than his own dark reverie, and Nick is compelled to brave the dangers of her mechanical canine companions to uncover the secrets of her past.

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Asimov's, 2000
Fictionwise Release Date: July 2001

588 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [26 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [24 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [13 KB] , Portable Document Format (PDF) [60 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [12 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [35 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [84 KB] , hiebook (KML) [61 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [41 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [10 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [13 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [41 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [22 KB]
Words: 3723
Reading time: 10-14 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

This story is nominated for the 2001 Hugo Award for a very good reason: Michael Swanwick is one of the best short story writers in the business. His novels are exceptional as well, but he absolutely excels at the short story. Each one is a masterpiece of magnificent writing, unforgettable characters, and lush settings. He is thoughtful, ruthless, and downright nasty, sometimes all in the same sentence. He's also one of the most prolific writers out there, garnering awards probably as I write this. He won a Hugo the last two years in a row for "Scherzo With Tyrannosaur" (2000) and "The Very Pulse of the Machine" (1999), and has won numerous other awards for his fiction. Needless to say, he's a damn good writer. "Moon Dogs" is a story about facing down your fears, no matter what they may be. It might get you gored by a deer, or cause you to want to put an oxygen shunt in your brain so you can simulate drowning for hours on end, but at least you are doing something about it. In the case of the two main characters in "Moon Dogs", it leads to their fateful meeting in the woods, and neither of them will be the same afterwards. Swanwick's prose will forever change how you look at the little things in life, and this story is no different. -Jason Lundberg, Fictionwise Recommender

The sycamores formed a ghostly ring around an empty darkness. They looked like a Druidic temple. He thought at first that they were former ornamentals--this had been a populous suburb not a century ago--marking the perimeter of a house long fallen to ruin. But then he saw how the ground within sank downward and realized that the bowl-shaped depression they marked was carved by the same small stream that had fed his drowning pool. At its center would be another ceremonial pool, perhaps, or else a minuscule swamp.

He walked closer and as he did so a pale white flame resolved itself into existence at the center of the darkness. He squinted, unsure as to its reality, and continued walking. Then he saw the white shape stoop, and heard a splash of water.

"Hello?" he said.

The shape flinched, turned, and in a woman's voice said, "Who are you?"

"My name's Nick. Do you want me to go away?"

"No, I'm about done here. You can dry me off."

Nick walked to the edge of the water. The woman stood knee-deep within it. In the gloom she was hard to see. Her crotch was filled with shadow; her navel was the merest smudge. He couldn't make out her mouth or nose at all. Twin falls of long, dark hair framed eyes that mirrored the black water in which she stood.

"The towel's by your feet."

He was reaching for the towel when something came bounding out of obscurity. It was a gundog, long and as elegantly constructed as antique Swiss clockwork. "Touch the lady and you're a dead man," it growled. There was a clicking noise from its abdomen.

"Stand down your armaments, Otto. He's not threatening me."

With a mechanical whine the gundog sat. There were other machines in the woods, gray shadows that prowled and circled without rest. Nick tried to count them. Three, six--too many to count.

The woman stood before Nick and turned her back. "Well?"

Carefully he dried her off, starting with her hair and shoulders, moving down her back and over her rump. Her body had the sculptural perfection of a Brancusi marble. He crouched to dry the back of her legs, and when he reached the ankles, she turned around to face him. She was so close he could smell her: fresh and clean, with accents of oak-leaf and cedar.

She took the towel and did her front, then squatted and let Otto blow hot air on her.

When she was dry, the woman dressed in jeans and a shirt. She wrapped her hair up in the towel, like a turban, and said, "My house is just over the hill. Cocoa?"