City at the End of Time

City at the End of Time

3.5 20
by Greg Bear

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In a time like the present, in a world that may or may not be our own, three young people–Ginny, Jack, and Daniel–dream of a decadent, doomed city of the distant future: the Kalpa. But more than dreams link these three: They are fate-shifters, born with the ability to skip across the surface of the fifth dimension, inhabiting alternate versions


In a time like the present, in a world that may or may not be our own, three young people–Ginny, Jack, and Daniel–dream of a decadent, doomed city of the distant future: the Kalpa. But more than dreams link these three: They are fate-shifters, born with the ability to skip across the surface of the fifth dimension, inhabiting alternate versions of themselves. And each guards an object whose origin and purpose are unknown: gnarled, stony artifacts called sum-runners that persist unchanged through all versions of time.

Hunted by others with similar powers who seek the sum-runners on behalf of a terrifying, goddess-like entity known as the Chalk Princess, Ginny, Jack, and Daniel are drawn into an all but hopeless mission to rescue the future–and complete the greatest achievement in human history.

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
“Represents a return to the sort of big and imaginative science-fiction epic that [Greg Bear’s] many fans particularly covet.”—Seattle Post-Intelligencer

“[A] triumphant return to large-scale SF . . . beautifully written.”—Publishers Weekly, A Best Book of the Year

“[City at the End of Time] has the flavor of weird fantasy, closer in its feel to the works of Neil Gaiman or China Miéville than anything Bear has done before. It . . . has an epic depth.”—Sci Fi Weekly

“A gripping, original tale.”—NewScientist

“Powerful and evocative.”—Analog

“Superlative . . . an excellent, excellent work.”—Harlan Ellison

“Compelling . . . a remarkable tour de force of sustained visionary writing . . . one of Bear’s best novels, perhaps even the very best.”—Locus

Publishers Weekly

In his triumphant return to large-scale SF, Nebula and Hugo-winner Bear (Quantico) links three young drifters in present-day Seattle with an unimaginably distant future. When the drifters answer an odd newspaper advertisement, they soon find themselves caught up in a war between mysterious and powerful forces. Two not-quite-humans, creations of a million-year experiment, have discovered that their ancient fortress/city, perhaps the last refuge of intelligence in a dying universe, is about to fall before the onslaught of chaos. They have been chosen by beings evolved far beyond mere matter to undertake a dangerous mission to preserve the universe's last vestiges of consciousness. Somehow the two groups engage in telepathic communication despite the eons that separate them. Something of an homage to William Hope Hodgson's classic The Night Land, this complex, difficult and beautifully written tale will appeal to sophisticated readers who prefer thorny conundrums to fast-paced action. (Aug.)

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Library Journal

Bear (Darwin's Radio; Blood Music), five-time winner of the prestigious Nebula Award, has written a dreamlike tale that interweaves cutting-edge cosmology theory, creation mythology reminiscent of Joseph Campbell's The Hero with a Thousand Faces, and the Librarian and library of Jorge Luis Borges's classic short story "The Library of Babel." Spinning between the two spools of contemporary Seattle-in the present universe aged ten billion years and the Kalpa, a reality that exists 100 trillion years ahead in a future universe-Bear develops the stories of four young people embedded in an epic 100 trillion years long as they interact with a malevolent godlike being and overwhelming chaos while connecting the present with the future and acting as channels for the rebirth of the universe. Plunging readers into a visceral experience of cosmological theory and the big creation stories of mythology, this challenging and imaginative work will receive critical attention. Recommended for public and academic libraries where intelligent speculative fiction circulates.
—Sara Rutter

Kirkus Reviews
Eschatological fantasy from Bear (Quantico, 2007, etc.). One hundred trillion years from now, an entity known as the Typhon, or Chaos-the distinction isn't clear-lazily absorbs what remains of the universe; only the city Kalpa survives, watched over by the near-omniscient but distracted Librarian. In a Seattle-like city in a time similar to our own, Ginny Carol flees from sinister pursuers and takes refuge in a vast warehouse full of books, some readable, most not, presided over by enigmatic bibliophile Conan Arthur Bidewell. Ginny carries a mysterious jewel called a sum-runner; she dreams of the remote future, of a city named Kalpa and a young woman explorer named Tiadba. Soon, Jack Rohmer arrives at the warehouse; he too carries a jewel and dreams of Kalpa, and of a young warrior named Jebrassy. Ginny and Jack have the ability to move through alternate realities, but both are finding their choices increasingly restricted. In Kalpa, meanwhile, the Librarian creates Tiadba and Jebrassy out of primordial matter, gives them some companions and sends them off into Chaos. More people arrive at the warehouse: some witches, some cats, Daniel Patrick Iremonk-he can cross alternate worlds by moving from body to body, ejecting the current occupants as he goes-with his evil nemesis, Max Glaucous, sometime agent of the Chalk Princess. Yes, it really is that affectless and unintelligible. Somehow, all this will save the universe, or maybe start a new one, but trillions of-no, wait-hundreds of pages later, you still won't care. Agent: Richard Curtis/Richard Curtis Associates

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Random House Publishing Group
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6.34(w) x 9.28(h) x 1.08(d)

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One


The city was young. Unbelievably young.

The moon rose sharp and silver-blue over a deck of soft gray clouds, and if you looked east, above the hills, where the sun would soon rise, you saw a brightness as yellow and real as natural butter.

The city faced the coming day with dew cold and wet on new green grass, streaming down windows, beaded on railings, chill against swiping fingers.

Waking up in the city, no one could know how young it was and fresh; all had activities to plan, living worries to blind them, and what would it take to finally smell the blessed, cool newness, but a whiff of something other?

Everyone went about their business.

The day passed into dusk.

Hardly anyone noticed there was a difference.

A hint of loss.

With a shock that nearly made her cry out, Ginny thought she saw the old gray Mercedes in the wide side mirror of the Metro bus-stopped the next lane over, two car lengths behind, blocking traffic. The smoked rear windows, the crack in its mottled windshield-clearly visible.

It's them-the man with the silver dollar, the woman with flames in her palms.

The bus's front door opened, but Ginny stepped back into the aisle. All thoughts of getting out a stop early, of walking the next few blocks to stretch her legs and think, had vanished.

The Metro driver-a plump black woman with ivory sclera and pale brown eyes, dark red lipstick, and diamonds on her incisors, still, after a day's hard work, lightly perfumed with My Sin-stared up at Ginny. "Someone following you, honey? I can call the cops." She tapped the bus's emergency button with a long pearly fingernail.

Ginny shook her head. "Won't help. It's nothing."

The driver sighed and closed the door, and the bus drove on. Ginny took her seat and rested her backpack in her lap-she missed the weight of her box, but for the moment, it was someplace safe. She glanced over her shoulder through the bus's rear window.

The Mercedes dropped back and turned onto a side street.

With her good hand, she felt in the pack's zippered side pocket for a piece of paper. While unwrapping the filthy bandage from her hand, the doctor at the clinic had spent half an hour gently redressing her burns, injecting a big dose of antibiotics, and asking too many questions.

Ginny turned to the front of the bus and closed her eyes. Felt the passengers brush by, heard the front door and the middle door open and close with rubbery shushes, the air brakes chuffing and sighing.

The doctor had told her about an eccentric but kind old man who lived alone in a warehouse filled with books. The old man needed an assistant. Could be long-term. Room and board, a safe place; all legit. The doctor had not asked Ginny to trust her. That would have been too much.

Then, she had printed out a map.

Because Ginny had no other place to go, she was following the doctor's directions. She unfolded the paper. Just a few more stops. First Avenue South-south of the two huge stadiums. It was getting dark-almost eight o'clock.

Before boarding the bus-before seeing or imagining the gray Mercedes- Ginny had found an open pawnshop a block from the clinic. There, like Queequeg selling his shrunken head, she had hocked her box and the library stone within.

It was Ginny's mother who had called it the library stone. Her father had called it a "sum-runner." Neither of the names had ever come with much of an explanation. The stone-a hooked, burned-looking, come-and- go thing in a lead-lined box about two inches on a side-was supposed to be the only valuable possession left to their nomadic family. Her mother and father hadn't told her where they had taken possession of it, or when. They probably didn't know or couldn't remember.

The box always seemed to weigh the same, but when they slid open the grooved lid-a lid that only opened if you rotated the box in a certain way, then back again-her mother would usually smile and say, "Runner's turned widdershins!" and with great theater they would reveal to their doubting daughter the empty interior.

The next time, the stone might stick up from the padded recess as solid and real and unexplained as anything else in their life.

As a child, Ginny had thought that their whole existence was some sort of magic trick, like the stone in its box.

When the pawnbroker, with her help, had opened the box, the stone was actually visible-her first real luck in weeks. The pawnbroker pulled out the stone and tried to look at it from all directions. The stone- as always-refused to rotate, no matter how hard he twisted and tugged. "Strong sucker. What is it, a gyroscope?" he asked. "Kind of ugly-but clever."

He had written her a ticket and paid her ten dollars.

This was what she carried: a map on a piece of paper, a bus route, and ten dollars she was afraid to spend, because then she might never retrieve her sum-runner, all she had to remember her family by. A special family that had chased fortune in a special way, yet never stayed long in one place-never more than a few months, as if they were being pursued.

The bus pulled to the curb and the doors sighed open. The driver flicked her a sad glance as she stepped down to the curb.

The door closed and the bus hummed on.

In a few minutes the driver would forget the slender, brown-haired girl-the skittish, frightened girl, always looking over her shoulder.

Ginny stood on the curb under the lowering dusk. Airplanes far to the south scraped golden contrails on the deep blue sky. She listened to the city. Buildings breathed, streets grumbled. Traffic noise buzzed from east and west, filtered and muted between the long industrial warehouses. Somewhere, a car alarm went off and was silenced with a disappointed chirp.

Down the block, a single Thai restaurant spilled a warm glow from its windows and open door.

She took a hungry half breath and looked up and down the wide street, deserted except for the bus's dwindling taillights. Shouldering her pack, she crossed and paused in a puddle of sour orange glow cast by a streetlight. Stared up at the green slab wall of the warehouse. She could hide here. Nobody would find her. Nobody would know anything about her.

It felt right.

She knew how to erase trails and blank memories. If the old man turned out to be a greasy pervert-she could handle that. She had dealt with worse-much worse.

On the north end of the warehouse, an enclosure of chain-link fence surrounded a concrete ramp and a small, empty parking lot. At the low end of the ramp, a locked gate barred access from the sidewalk. Ginny looked for security cameras, but none were visible. An old ivory- colored plastic button mounted in green brass was the only way to attract attention. She double-checked the address on the map. Looked up at the high corner of the warehouse. Squeezed her finger through the chain link.

Pushed the button.

A few moments later, as she was about to leave, the gate buzzed open. No voice, no welcome.

Her shoulders slumped in relief-so tired.

But after all she had been through, no hope could go unchallenged. Quickly, she probed with all her strength and talent for a better way through the confused tangles of outcome and effect. None appeared. This was the only good path. Every other led her back to the spinning, blue-white storm in the woods.

For months now she had felt her remaining options pinch down. She had never pictured this warehouse, never known she would end up in Seattle, never clearly foreseen the free clinic and the helpful doctor.

Ginny pulled the gate open and walked up the ramp. The gate swung back with a rasping squeak and locked behind her.

Today was her eighteenth birthday.

Meet the Author

Greg Bear is the author of more than twenty-five books, which have been translated into more than a dozen languages. He has been awarded two Hugos and five Nebulas for his fiction. He is married to Astrid Anderson Bear, and they are the parents of two children, Erik and Alexandra.

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City at the End of Time 3.5 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 20 reviews.
Chrissysc77 More than 1 year ago
First book that i absolutely could not finish reading! I could not figure out what was going on in the 100 pages I read. It might have been from intense boredom that i zoned out while reading it, but I believe it is from the lack of explanation from the author. I hated it!! I feel I wasted my money!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I am usually a fan of Greg Bear, but his was disappointing. While there are big scientific ideas at work in this novel, they are buried and difficult to work out. They are so poorly developed that the novel is really a fantasy rather than than hard science fiction. After all, the good guys win by joining, what in any other work, would have been called "magic stones" -- here, they are "summing stones." The characters are poorly developed and most of them are uninteresting. They are merely vehicles for a plot that grinds along until it ends with something very close to "And then a miracle occurs." Now, it's possible that Bear was trying to avoid having a scientist character who would lecture for pages about the science at issue. That is a noble undertaking. But it's not an excuse for putting the science in a Cuisinart, scattering it through the book and among the characters, and never developing it fully.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
If you wrote a poor review of this book, odds are you didn't read the entire story. If you didn't read the entire story, your opinion cannot be trusted. You missed the boat. This story is great. Without spoiling anything, the "chaotic" structure matches the themes involving time. The visuals portrayed are both abstract and detailed. Same goes for the scope and change of perspectives. If you're ready to think and read, here's your story. Let your eyes glaze while your mind takes it all in and tries to organize and understand what you're reading. If you don't respect this story, you don't understand Greg Bear as a writer.
S-III More than 1 year ago
It leaves you feeling empty. The plot is really good, and the characters are solid, but the way he presented them was weak. The pace was so slow I thought this was a mystery novel. What happened to the Bear that wrote Eon?
SableT More than 1 year ago
This book was incredible. The story of an evil that devours time and the rush of past and future heros to stop it. I really don't want to say too much but this was an awesome read. The way the the characters in the story shift and move through time is dynamic and inventive. I can praise this story forever. Read it! Nothing further.
harstan More than 1 year ago
In Seattle, three people (Ginny, Jack, and Max) separately and with no seeming connection see a newspaper ad that stuns them. The advertisement states: ¿Do you dream of a city at the end of time?¿ Each can answer in the affirmative as they have had visions of a dark desolate landscape of a devastated wasteland they also share in common a form of amnesia in which none of them know anything important from their respective pasts. They only have just flashes of urban desolation. ---------- They respond and soon learn they are the Protectors of time. An enigmatic, at one time seemingly omnipotent race has created a million-year sentient species experiment. Now after a hundred trillion years the ancient Kalpa is the last vestige of true knowledge and is rapidly deteriorating as the universe dies. The insanity of chaos fills the vacuum. The trio understands their mission is to save any form of awareness of being to pass on to the rebirth and know the danger they face in attempting this, but consider the alternative nothingness. --------------- THE CITY AT THE END OF TIME is not an easy or fast-paced read but worth the time for those science fiction fans who appreciate a very complex story line that increasingly turns even more complicated as Greg Bear explores an ontological theme. The key characters especially the threesome, the ad taker, and those at the Kalpa discussing the end of times seem real enough to have the audience feel the countdown to the big crunch has begun. The hope is that the trio will save a flicker of light that survives into the universe reincarnation that the Kalpa inhabitants believe will occur. Mr. Bear provides a well written cerebral sci fi tale.------------------- Harriet Klausner
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I'm going to start reading this, maybe in a few days. Is this worth my time?
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