Machine of Death: A Collection of Stories About People Who Know How They Will Die

Machine of Death: A Collection of Stories About People Who Know How They Will Die

Ryan North, Matthew Bennardo, David Malki

Language: English

Pages: 464

ISBN: 0982167121

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

The machine had been invented a few years ago: a machine that could tell, from just a sample of your blood, how you were going to die. No dates, no details. Just a slip of paper with a few words spelling out your ultimate fate -- at once all-too specific and maddeningly vague.

A top ten Amazon Customer Favorite in Science Fiction & Fantasy for 2010, The Machine of Death is an anthology of original stories bound together by a central premise. From the humorous to the adventurous to the mind-bending to the touching, the writers explore what the world would be like if a blood test could predict your death.

But don't think for a moment this is a book entirely composed of stories about people meeting their ironic dooms. There is some of that, of course. But more than that, this is a genre-hopping collection of tales about people who have learned more about themselves then perhaps they should have, and how that knowledge affects their relationships, their perception of the world, and how they feel about themselves.

Features thirty-four stories by Randall Munroe, Ben "Yahtzee" Croshaw, Tom Francis, Camille Alexa, Erin McKean, James L. Sutter, David Malki !, Ryan North, and many others

Features illustrations by Kate Beaton, Kazu Kibuishi, Aaron Diaz, Jeffrey Brown, Scott C., Roger Langridge, Karl Kershl, Cameron Stewart, and many others

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Mr. Armbruster, sucking on his tongue thoughtfully. “‘Performance’ in the sense of ‘Ooh, ooh, look at the dancing bear; now look, he’s riding a little unicycle.’ That type of performance. Specifically,” he added, “your performance earlier this morning, Pfennig.” “Right,” said Simon, his smile still adamant. “After lunch, then?” “Yes,” said Mr. Armbruster. “If you please.” He then vanished from sight. The subsequent quiet was broken only by the noise of Scott sniggering quietly to himself in the

were still discovering gems—new insights, new characters, new worlds, new twists to the premise. As editors, our biggest challenge soon became picking stories that not only were all excellent (that was the easy part), but that also represented the true diversity of ideas and approaches that we received. So sit back and take a moment to look over the table of contents. Start at the beginning or just pick the title that sounds most intriguing to you. Either way, there’s no telling for sure exactly

just a peeping Tom. Bring on the trampoline!  Aug 18 - Our office has death fever. It’s actually less morbid than it sounds. I just mean that a bunch of the folks here suddenly got really interested in finding out how they’re going to kick the bucket. All right, maybe it’s exactly as morbid as it sounds. I wonder if they all went out for lunch last week and talked about it over drinks or something. I never got invited. I spend my lunches with my good friends Bricky and the Fatal Fortune-Teller. A

fingers, trying to suck the last bit of grease off them. “Ditched it,” he said. “Threw it into the ocean like I said.” He leveled a finger at Johnny. “I want to ditch the knives too, both of ours.”  Johnny shook his head. “We’re gonna need them. You should have kept the gun too. What if there’s an animal we could have shot? Or what if somebody shows up?”  “We’re running out of food already,” said Dalton. “It’s like I told you before, things are going to get desperate and who knows what Machine

baseball and caves, but he found out what it meant when the husband of the woman he was having an affair with used one—of the wooden variety, not the kind with wings and sonar—against the side of his head. Of course the story that came up most often was the junkie who got ‘CRACK.’ The guy managed to break his addiction, clean himself up, find a job, and start a new life. One day on his way to work, he tripped over a break in the sidewalk—a crack, if you will—and dashed his head out against the

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