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eBook Category: Science Fiction
eBook Description: Rod Thomas finds himself abducted from L.A.to the ghostly City-At-The-End-Of-Time, with even more bizarre inhabitants. To return to his own time, he must first beat the mysterious Oberon in a very odd game of cards.

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Pulpsmith, 1982
Fictionwise Release Date: December 2002

29 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [62 KB], eReader (PDB) [27 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [13 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [13 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [66 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [85 KB], hiebook (KML) [62 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [43 KB], iSilo (PDB) [11 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [14 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [42 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [23 KB]
Words: 3912
Reading time: 11-15 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

Slowly, a man materialized in the Big Tank...

The Sensitive.

First, they carefully removed his biochip implant; then, before wiping the chip, they transferred all the affective reactions to an emote-disc for the Histro-Theatre. Next, they wiped all cognitive traces of the trip from the Sensitive's mind, insuring that no memory remained to distort reactions to subsequent trips. Finally, they replaced the implant.

Several hours later, totally cleansed of his trip, the Sensitive was released to the City...

He opened his eyes, revived from his dazed state by the mist washing his face. His head cleared; and, looking at the medcenter entry, he realized that, once again he was back in The-City-At-The-End-Of-Time. He took a deep breath and let it trickle out slowly, searching his memory for some fragment of his last trip...

Nothing not even a name.

He frowned. He could barely recall his own specifics: Rod Thomas, twenty-five year old actor in 1982 ... three bit part credits on soaps ... behind two months on his rent of a studio apartment near Northridge State ... and Sharon. He swallowed, trying to ease the tightness in his chest. His life was nothing to brag about ... except it was his. He looked ahead, hoping this would be the trip back to L.A.

Rod started to walk, cocking his head, listening to his heels click against the chromium surface of the street, the sharp sounds rebounding in the fog. He followed his own footsteps, looking for the Sign: The curled bluesnake, tail in mouth. There he would find Oberon, his tour guide.

Silently, a cloaked inhabitant of the City floated by, as if riding the crest of a misty swirl. Rod watched the curious figure disappear into the fog. A man? Or a creature from another world? And this city? Oberon, in his vague manner, had said the inhabitants were men of the far future, living in a domed habitat on a transformed Earth; of course they differed from twentieth-century man--they had lost the ability to emote, but they had gained a few skills. Hah! Like flying? And magic? And sending him back to ... to all kinds of places he couldn't remember. Rod shivered; he didn't believe Oberon's vague explanations--

Ah, the Sign; the blurred circle of neon-blue shimmered in the mist. As he moved closer to the symbol, he felt a tingle of excitement. This might be the time.

The luminous sign hung over a gate in a white picket fence. On the other side of the gate, a path of flat stones led to a white-washed, thatched-roofed hut. A scene from a British Isles postcard--an obvious anachronism in the City. But he'd come to expect the unusual in this place. His excitement increased as he approached the quaint cottage.

At the door, Rod hesitated for a moment. Then he raised his hand to knock--

Untouched, the door swung inward.

He took a cautious step inside.

A white-cloaked figure, face hidden by a cowl, sat at a small, wooden table, facing an empty chair. A thick candle flickered in an open bowl, making shadows dance on the bare walls of the room. The hooded figure gestured for Rod to sit in the chair.

He sat down, glancing at the heavily-shadowed face. The figure's eyes glittered in the flickering candle light like icy-blue stars in a wintry sky. Rod dropped his gaze to the table top, to the figure's delicate, albino skin stretching taunt across fine bones, veins defined sharply like blue rivers detailed on a map. Cold, lifeless. A man's hands? Rod looked up and asked, "Oberon?"

The hooded figure nodded.

Rod felt his unease increasing. It seemed that everything was designed to keep him off balance ... on edge.

Five card-shaped pieces of opaque glass appeared suddenly in Oberon's pale hands. The slender fingers deftly shuffled the shapes like a deck of cards. "Are you ready for the game, Sensitive?" whispered the cloaked figure in a low rasp.

Inwardly, Rod flinched. Oberon's voice always startled him, raising goosebumps at the nape of his neck, reminding him of the dry whir of a rattler. He suppressed a shudder.

Oberon whispered, "The game this time is five card stud. Usual stakes.... If I win, I select the next trip; if you win, you return to your time. But, first, we must prevue the trips--"

Oberon leaned forward and pressed a disc to Rod's forehead.

"--And, at the same time we determine the value of your cards."

Five card stud! A game Rod knew. He felt a surge of confidence. Maybe this would be his time. For a second he closed his eyes, trying to slow his pulse. The games were a hook: His potential ticket home. But for Oberon they were something more. Each game was structured to prevue several trips; and the disc picked up his emotional responses to the prevues. Rod blinked.

Nodding his understanding, Rod stared at the featureless pieces of glass. Prevues from The-City-At-The-End-Of-Time.