The Fall of Hyperion (Hyperion Series #2)

The Fall of Hyperion (Hyperion Series #2)

by Dan Simmons

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The Fall of Hyperion (Hyperion Series #2) by Dan Simmons

“State of the art science fiction . . . a landmark novel.”—Isaac Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine

Now, in the stunning continuation of the epic adventure begun in Hyperion, Simmons returns us to a far future resplendent with drama and invention. On the world of Hyperion, the mysterious Time Tombs are opening. And the secrets they contain mean that nothing—nothing anywhere in the universe—will ever be the same.

Praise for The Fall of Hyperion

“One of the finest SF novels published in the past few years.”Science Fiction Eye 

“A magnificently original blend of themes and styles.”The Denver Post

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780553288209
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Publication date: 11/28/1995
Series: Hyperion Series , #2
Edition description: Reissue
Pages: 517
Sales rank: 46,631
Product dimensions: 4.15(w) x 6.87(h) x 1.15(d)

About the Author

Dan Simmons, a full-time public school teacher until 1987, is one of the few writers who consistently work across genres, producing novels described as science fiction, horror, fantasy, and mainstream fiction, while winning major awards in all these fields. His first novel, Song of Kali, won the World Fantasy Award; his first science fiction novel, Hyperion, won the Hugo Award. His other novels and short fiction have been honored with numerous awards, including nine Locus Awards, four Bram Stoker Awards, the French Prix Cosmos 2000, the British SF Association Award, and the Theodore Sturgeon Award. In 1995, Wabash College presented Simmons with an honorary doctorate in humane letters for his work in fiction and education. He lives in Colorado along the Front Range of the Rockies.

Read an Excerpt

On the day the armada went off to war, on the last day of life as we knew it, I was invited to a party. There were parties everywhere that evening, on more than a hundred and fifty worlds in the Web, but this was the only party that mattered.
I signified acceptance via the datasphere, checked to make sure that my finest formal jacket was clean, took my time bathing and shaving, dressed with meticulous care, and used the one-time diskey in the invitation chip to farcast from Esperance to Tau Ceti Center at the appointed time.
It was evening in this hemisphere of TC2, and a low, rich light illuminated the hills and vales of Deer Park, the gray towers of the Administration complex far to the south, the weeping willows and radiant fernfire which lined the banks of River Tethys, and the white colonnades of Government House itself. Thousands of guests were arriving, but security personnel greeted each of us, checked our invitation codes against DNA patterns, and showed the way to bar and buffet with a graceful gesture of arm and hand.
“M. Joseph Severn?” the guide confirmed politely.
“Yes,” I lied. It was now my name but never my identity.
“CEO Gladstone still wishes to see you later in the evening. You will be notified when she is free for the appointment.”
“Very good.”
“If you desire anything in the way of refreshment or entertainment that is not set out, merely speak your wish aloud and the grounds monitors will seek to provide it.”
I nodded, smiled, and left the guide behind. Before I had strolled a dozen steps, he had turned to the next guests alighting from the terminex platform.
From my vantage point on a low knoll, I could see several thousand guests milling across several hundred acres of manicured lawn, many of them wandering among forests of topiary. Above the stretch of grass where I stood, its broad sweep already shaded by the line of trees along the river, lay the formal gardens, and beyond them rose the imposing bulk of Government House. A band was playing on the distant patio, and hidden speakers carried the sound to the farthest reaches of Deer Park. A constant line of EMVs spiraled down from a farcaster portal far above. For a few seconds I watched their brightly clad passengers disembark at the platform near the pedestrian terminex. I was fascinated by the variety of aircraft; evening light glinted not only on the shells of the standard Vikkens and Altz and Sumatsos, but also on the rococo decks of levitation barges and the metal hulls of antique skimmers which had been quaint when Old Earth still existed.
I wandered down the long, gradual slope to the River Tethys, past the dock where an incredible assortment of river craft disgorged their passengers. The Tethys was the only webwide river, flowing past its permanent farcaster portals through sections of more than two hundred worlds and moons, and the folk who lived along its banks were some of the wealthiest in the Hegemony. The vehicles on the river showed this: great, crenelated cruisers, canvas-laden barks, and five-tiered barges, many showing signs of being equipped with levitation gear; elaborate houseboats, obviously fitted with their own farcasters; small, motile isles imported from the oceans of Maui-Covenant; sporty pre-Hegira speedboats and submersibles; an assortment of hand-carved nautical EMVs from Renaissance Vector; and a few contemporary go-everywhere yachts, their outlines hidden by the seamless reflective ovoid surfaces of containment fields.
The guests who alighted from these craft were no less flamboyant and impressive than their vehicles: personal styles ranged from pre-Hegira conservative evening wear on bodies obviously never touched by Poulsen treatments to this week’s highest fashion from TC2 draped on figures molded by the Web’s most famous ARNists. Then I moved on, pausing at a long table just long enough to fill my plate with roast beef, salad, sky squid filet, Parvati curry, and fresh-baked bread.
The low evening light had faded to twilight by the time I found a place to sit near the gardens, and the stars were coming out. The lights of the nearby city and Administration Complex had been dimmed for tonight’s viewing of the armada, and Tau Ceti Center’s night sky was more clear than it had been for centuries.
A woman near me glanced over and smiled. “I’m sure that we’ve met before.”
I smiled back, sure that we had not. She was very attractive, perhaps twice my age, in her late fifties, standard, but looking younger than my own twenty-six years, thanks to money and Poulsen. Her skin was so fair that it looked almost translucent. Her hair was done in a rising braid. Her breasts, more revealed than hidden by the wispwear gown, were flawless. Her eyes were cruel.
“Perhaps we have,” I said, “although it seems unlikely. My name is Joseph Severn.”
“Of course,” she said. “You’re an artist!”
I was not an artist. I was … had been … a poet. But the Severn identity, which I had inhabited since my real persona’s death and birth a year before, stated that I was an artist. It was in my All Thing file.
“I remembered,” laughed the lady. She lied. She had used her expensive comlog implants to access the datasphere.
I did not need to access … a clumsy, redundant word which I despised despite its antiquity. I mentally closed my eyes and was in the datasphere, sliding past the superficial All Thing barriers, slipping beneath the waves of surface data, and following the glowing strand of her access umbilical far into the darkened depths of “secure” information flow.
“My name is Diana Philomel,” she said. “My husband is sector transport administrator for Sol Draconi Septem.”
I nodded and took the hand she offered. She had said nothing about the fact that her husband had been head goon for the mold-scrubbers union on Heaven’s Gate before political patronage had promoted him to Sol Draconi … or that her name once had been Dinee Teats, former crib doxie and hopstop hostess to lungpipe proxies in the Mid-sump Barrens … or that she had been arrested twice for Flashback abuse, the second time seriously injuring a halfway house medic … or that she had poisoned her half-brother when she was nine, after he had threatened to tell her stepfather that she was seeing a Mudflat miner named …
“Pleased to meet you, M. Philomel,” I said. Her hand was warm. She held the handshake an instant too long.
“Isn’t it exciting?” she breathed.
“What’s that?”
She made an expansive gesture that included the night, the glow-globes just coming on, the gardens, and the crowds. “Oh, the party, the war, everything,” she said.
I smiled, nodded, and tasted the roast beef. It was rare and quite good, but gave the salty hint of the Lusus clone vats. The squid seemed authentic. Stewards had come by offering champagne, and I tried mine. It was inferior. Quality wine, Scotch, and coffee had been the three irreplaceable commodities after the death of Old Earth. “Do you think the war is necessary?” I asked.
“Goddamn right it’s necessary.” Diana Philomel had opened her mouth, but it was her husband who answered. He had come up from behind and now took a seat on the faux log where we dined. He was a big man, at least a foot and a half taller than I. But then, I am short. My memory tells me that I once wrote a verse ridiculing myself as “… Mr. John Keats, five feet high,” although I am five feet one, slightly short when Napoleon and Wellington were alive and the average height for men was five feet six, ridiculously short now that men from average-g worlds range from six feet tall to almost seven. I obviously did not have the musculature or frame to claim I had come from a high-g world, so to all eyes I was merely short. (I report my thoughts above in the units in which I think … of all the mental changes since my rebirth into the Web, thinking in metric is by far the hardest. Sometimes I refuse to try.)
“Why is the war necessary?” I asked Hermund Philomel, Diana’s husband.
“Because they goddamn asked for it,” growled the big man. He was a molar grinder and a cheek-muscle flexer. He had almost no neck and a subcutaneous beard that obviously defied depilatory, blade, and shaver. His hands were half again as large as mine and many times more powerful.
“I see,” I said.
“The goddamn Ousters goddamn asked for it,” he repeated, reviewing the high points of his argument for me. “They fucked with us on Bressia and now they’re fucking with us on … in … whatsis …”
“Hyperion system,” said his wife, her eyes never leaving mine.
“Yeah,” said her lord and husband, “Hyperion system. They fucked with us, and now we’ve got to go out there and show them that the Hegemony isn’t going to stand for it. Understand?”

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Fall of Hyperion (Hyperion Series #2) 4.6 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 94 reviews.
Guest More than 1 year ago
After finishing Hyperion I immediately bought the next book, Fall of the Hyperion. I expected it to be as good as Hyperion but I was wrong. It was better then it's predecessor. I couldnt put this book down until the very last of it's pages were read. If you've read Hyperion then reading this book is a given. If you havent read Hyperion then read this anyways becuase its just that good.
onalake1 More than 1 year ago
After reading Hyperion, I thought that was the best book I have ever read. I jumped right into Fall of Hyperion afterwards and not this is the best book I ever read. I know there are 2 more in the series but I'm taking a break to save them for later. The pace, action and story resolution of the characters from the first book are first rate. I read the pages faster than I should have just to get to the next page as fast as I could. There are some great ideas regarding religion and truly universal strategies to achieve a goal. I already bought the rest of the series but saving it because this will wind up being my favorite SciFi series and I don't want to rush it!
Guest More than 1 year ago
This series exemplifies what science fiction should be. A terrific blend of historical literature figures with cutting edge technology. Simmons' monster the Shrike is truely awe inspiring, and subtle as it is only a puppet to the true menace of the technocore. The Fall of hyperion is a necessary addition to any hardcore fans library. Do yourself a favor and pick this one up.
Guest More than 1 year ago
The Fall of Hyperion is in every way just as good as its predecessor, Hyperion. This book completes the engrossing adventure begun in Hyperion. Set in a far-future galaxy when the Earth is gone and people can walk from planet to planet by just taking a few steps, The Fall of Hyperion describes an exciting end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it war. As a sci-fi intrigue story, the plot has unpredictable twists and turns which sweep the reader off his feet into an enthralling new world, only releasing its fascinated victim at the end, when the truth is finally known.
Guest More than 1 year ago
The follow up to 'Hyperion,' this book tells us what the series is all about. The villains of the piece, which we were lead to believe were the Ousters and the Shrike in the previous volume, are not the villains at all. The true villians are the TechnoCore. And a better bunch of villains will be hard to find. The Shrike still remains vaguely threatening, but it is not as blood-curdling as it was in the previous volume. Great stuff!
acronos More than 1 year ago
It's definitely worth reading. Mr. Simmons has created an interesting universe to explore. He is a solid writer. This work explores nanotech, AI, time travel, and the building blocks of the universe. He has obviously studied world religions, as he incorporates ideas from most of them. There is an element of mystery. I'm reading the last book in the series now, and I still don't really know what the shrike is. I personally think that’s good, but it might be bad depending on your perspective. The series does a good job of drawing you in. I was torn between rating it a 4 or a 5. I think it's a solid 4.5
DRFP on LibraryThing 7 days ago
Not quite the sequel I was hoping for. Certainly the book ties out most, if not all, the necessary loose ends but perhaps things such as the Shrike are demystified a little *too* much.My other qualm with this book is how much time is spent by the characters going back and forth between Time Tombs. I know at one stage this point is acknowledged within the book but that doesn't make it any better. There are some boring passages as a result.Other minor issues I have with The Fall of Hyperion being Meina Gladstone as a central figure in the story doesn't do much for me - doesn't do much for me; and nor does Simmon's increased fixation on Keats either.But ultimately, this novel just isn't as interesting as its predecessor. The tales aren't as engaging as those found in Hyperion. It was always going to be a tough act to follow but I was hoping that Simmons would have done slightly better.
Clueless on LibraryThing 7 days ago
I think it would be difficult to read `Hyperion¿, like it and not want to read `The Fall of Hyperion too. There were two themes in the second book that made me think the kind of ideas that gnaw away at me. First was the `Core.¿ While the book must have been written in the late 80¿s for me `The Core¿ symbolized a science fiction version of the internet as an evil collective unconscious. I have a problem with this. My views were shaped by the first astronauts who dreaded being in the black void of space. But that isn¿t what they reported feeling. They felt the vacuum was welcoming and teeming with warmth. Buddhism teaches that joy, not evil -- lies in the moments between dreading the future and regretting the past. There comes a time in the book where the Core disconnects from humans and the effects are madness and chaos. I wonder if that is what would happen if technology suddenly became impossible.The other compelling theme was an anti-aging therapy called `Paulsen¿s treatments¿. Of course we are bombarded by what celebrities are doing in attempts to fool Mother Nature. In the book I like how Simmons unflatteringly described the characters who partook of such treatments.There is a terrible monster in `The Fall of Hyperion¿ called the `Shrike.¿ It reminded me of the `Stobor¿ in Heinlein¿s `Tunnel in the Sky¿. I guess science fiction books always need and have a terrible monster?When I first picked up `Hyperion¿, it felt too familiar ¿ like Mary Doria Russell¿s `The Sparrow¿. In the `Sparrow¿ Russell explores Jewish mysticism. I would say on first glance that with the two Hyperion books, Simmons is simply angry at the Old Testament God.
anabellebf on LibraryThing 7 days ago
Second installment of the Hyperion Cantos.Not as good as Hyperion, lacks the Chaucer-inspired frame story, but still entertaining. Some mysteries are solved, but most of them remain for the last two books of the series. A book worth reading because it's in the middle of a set.
rampaginglibrarian on LibraryThing 14 days ago
The continuation of the "Hyperion" saga, Simmons is absolutely brilliant. These two books incorporate so many different literary and culrural allusions and are complete page-turners--well worth the read.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
As above
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Don't ever stop
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Okay...i still dont get alot of what happened. I think there are some things that still need closure. Perhaps that means i need to read the Endymion series (perhaps someday but i need a break for now). But it definitely kept me entertained throughout both books. Being a lover of romance and sci fi books...this book has some of the former (although definitely romance from a male perspective) and plenty of the latter...and it mixes in the paradox of religious morality without a religious tone. It drove me to actually read some of Keates poetry...which in my definition is the outcome of a good make one reflect further on what came before us, and what could come after.
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Will go here
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