Amea Amaau is a new and gleaming city in a matrix of six hundred and forty-three thousand cities exactly like it, somewhere in the terribly exciting part of the world.
In most cases, science fiction's thought-experiments with sex have fallen short of their goals. . . . [I]n essence, science fiction's sweeping vision of the future all too often finds itself bogged down by the past and the present.
When she came home the next night, she found the tree nailed, wildly askew, to the coffee table. Teenage accessories—earrings and keychains—dragged the drooping branches down further.
