Аннотация
Philip Jose Farmer
DARK IS THE SUN
DEDICATION
In alphabetical order, to my granddaughters Andrea Josephsohn and Kimberley Ladd; my daughter,
Kristen; my grandson Matthew Josephsohn; my son, Philip Laird; my granddaughter Stephanie
Josephsohn; my grandson Torin Paul Farmer. And to any descendants of my wife, Bette Virginia Andre, and of myself fifteen billion years from now, when this story takes place.
1
BLACK was the sun; bright, the sky.
Under the arc packed with dead and living stars, dark or blazing gas clouds and galaxies, on an Earth in which lay the bones or over which blew the dust of seven hundred fifty-four million or so generations,
Deyv walked toward his destiny.
"Look for a mate and find a dragon" was a proverb of the tribe.
If you were a pessimist, it sounded ominous. If you were an optimist, it sounded rewarding. There were good dragons and there were evil. Or so Deyv understood. He'd never seen one.
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