By Bob Shaw
Paradoxically, for Gilbert Snook - who thought of himself the human an identical of a neutrino, a particle in a position to trip throughout the Earth with out annoying the other particle - it began with the panic that the sighting of the anti-neutrino planet because it approached Earth. Earth used to be unaffected yet Snook ended up in a small African Republic instructing English to diamond miners. Then the miners all started seeing ghosts and Snook came across himself on the centre of a extraordinary and far-reaching clinical discovery - and in the course of a few very soiled political infighting.
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Additional resources for A Wreath of Stars
The houses of Wall are square and old, built of grey stone, with dark slate roofs and high chimneys; taking advantage of every inch of space on the rock, the houses lean into each other, are built one upon the next, with here and there a bush or tree growing out of the side of a building. There is one road from Wall, a winding track rising sharply up from the forest, where it is lined with rocks and small stones. Followed far enough south, out of the forest, the track becomes a real road, paved with asphalt; followed further the road gets larger, is packed at all hours with cars and trucks rushing from city to city.
Reaching the stall from which the sound was emanating, he saw that it was deserted. It was festooned with flowers: bluebells and foxgloves and harebells and daffodils, but also with violets and lilies, with tiny crimson dog-roses, pale snowdrops, blue forget-me-nots and a profusion of other flowers Dunstan could not name. Each flower was made of glass or crystal, spun or carved, he could not tell: they counterfeited life perfectly. And they chimed and jingled like distant glass bells. ” called Dunstan.
He put the list on a spike. ” There was a gust of wind, then, so strong that it rattled the windows of the village, and whirled and spun the weathercocks until they could not tell north from west or south from east. The fire that was burning in the grate of Monday and Brown’s belched and twisted in a flurry of greens and scarlets, topped with a fizz of silver twinkles, of the kind one can make for oneself at the parlor fire with a handful of tossed iron filings. The wind blew from Faerie and the East, and Tristran Thorn suddenly found inside himself a certain amount of courage he had not suspected that he had possessed.
A Wreath of Stars by Bob Shaw