By John Barnes
Currie Culver is set fifty-five years outdated, in sturdy health and wellbeing, dwelling in a snug retirement within the Rockies together with his spouse. within the wake of the Meme Wars that swept the planet generations sooner than, Currie, his spouse, and nearly every body in the world have of their minds a duplicate of 1 precise, software program that supplies its hosts restricted telepathy and instills one of those normal cooperation.In his more youthful days, Currie hunted "comboys"--people who had unplugged from the worldwide web with a purpose to circumvent One actual, and who concealed in barren region parts, surviving by way of raiding the outposts of civilization. Now Currie is termed again into provider to trap the final comboy nonetheless at huge, a guy who calls himself Lobo. along with his excessive tech gear, completely plugged into the worldwide web, Currie units out to deliver Lobo in.Instead, Lobo captures Currie, and manages to deprogram him. Thrown again at the assets of his personal intelligence, braveness, and knowledge for the 1st time in twenty-five years, Currie unearths himself in a conflict of minds together with his captor . . . with effects that would swap the lives of everybody on Earth.In the easiest culture of John W. Campbell and Robert A. Heinlein, Candle is a unique approximately individualism and society that may depart readers breathless, arguing, and important extra.
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Additional info for Candle
Adding to a sense of security that I knew to be false, the sun had burned through the nimbus layer, which had retreated rapidly to the east, leaving flocks of big thin mare'stail cirrus scattered across the sky. The mare's-tails had chased after the nimbus in turn, and now the late afternoon sky was perfectly clear and blue; the sun was warming things up quickly; and at this very tail end of the afternoon, it was turning into a day I could enjoy. I was beginning to feel a certain affection for Lobo, anyway.
A muscular young bull led the way, turning and sniffing the wind now and then, looking about with huge brown eyes. The elk of the Rockies look like big mule deer, I guess, to the untrained eye, until you realize they're half again as big, and until you see that wild, cunning intelligence looking out of the eyes. In the old days, good hunters loved them and lazy hunters only saw them from the road. The bull must have decided it was okay, and began to scrape at the stream bank with his front hooves.
But just as possibly he was showing himself for some other reason entirely. I resolved to try to work as if he might be within fifty meters of me, all the time, and take it slow and easy. I would be looking for anything that resembled tracks—but at the same time I would be leaving mine, and I knew that I didn't have any way of hiding my tracks, whatever Lobo might be able to do. Now that I was down in the easier country, I pushed off and skated slowly and carefully westward. There was some old sandstone in the local surface rock, and it was possible he might have found a cave somewhere, or even dug one if he had somewhere to hide his debris pile.