The Dark Design (Riverworld Saga, Book 3) by Philip Jose Farmer

By Philip Jose Farmer

Years have handed on Riverworld. complete countries have risen, and savage wars were fought--all because the lifeless of Earth chanced on themselves resurrected of their impressive new homeworld. but the reality in regards to the Ethicals, the strong engineers of this mysterious "afterlife," continues to be unknown. yet a curious cross-section of humanity is decided to alter that state of affairs . . . at any cost.Intrepid explorer Sir Richard Francis Burton leads the main impressive voyage of discovery he has ever undertaken. sizzling on his heels are Samuel Clemens, King John of britain, and Cyrano de Bergerac. Spurred via the promise of final solutions, they chart a direction around the substantial polar sea--and towards the remarkable tower that looms above it. yet getting there'll be greater than part the conflict. For dying on Riverworld has turn into chillingly ultimate . . .

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As it did every man. And every woman, she hastened to remind herself. Be fair. He was close, breathing the whiskey fumes up into her face. He was a head shorter than she, his broad shoulders, muscular arms, and deep chest making a curious contrast with long, skinny legs. His large eyes were brown, the balls bloodshot. His head was large, his forehead bulged, his bronze hair was so curly that it was almost kinky, his skin was bronze-red. He was supposed to be a mulatto, but the Caucasian and Onondaga Indian genes seemed to be dominant.

My apologies," the intrepid said. "But, after all, I am here to interview you, not vice versa. Why don't you ask our female citizens what they think of the male attitude toward them? " "The farthest thing from my mind," the dauntless said hastily. "We are quite modern here, even though the late-twentieth-centurians constitute only a small percentage of the population. The state is dedicated to the construction of the airship. To that goal, strict discipline during working hours is maintained.

Under her seat lay a spear, a bamboo shaft tipped with a hornfish horn. By it lay two heavy oak war-boomerangs and a bag containing two leather slings and forty stones. As the fire brightened, the voices became louder. Who were they ? Guards? Drunken revelers? Slavers hoping to catch just such as she? Early worms out to catch a bird? She smiled grimly. If they wanted violence, they would get it. However, they sounded more like drunks. If what she had been told down-River was true, she was in peaceful territory.

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