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.
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.