By John D. MacDonald
From John D. MacDonald, one of many enduring American novelists of the 20th century, comes a technology fiction vintage with a undying premise. An aimless younger guy discovers the way to cease the area in its tracks—and that’s while his lifestyles really begins.
Introduction via Dean Koontz
Once a normal math instructor, Omar Krepps constructed a knack for playing, collected a superb fortune, and spent the remainder of his existence touring the area and gifting away his thousands. Upon his demise, besides the fact that, Krepps bequeaths not anything to his nephew and simply dwelling blood relative, Kirby Winter—nothing, that's, other than an vintage watch and a sealed letter to be opened after one year.
But Kirby has even more in his ownership than he realizes. The watch has the ability to govern time. not just does this revelation make clear the secret of his uncle’s existence, it places Kirby at the route to unbelievable wealth and a brand new hire on love . . . in addition to an entire host of lethal issues. Even in a universe the place time isn't any factor, Kirby needs to tread rigorously to stick one step prior to probability.
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Additional info for The Girl, the Gold Watch & Everything
Rukshana asked her. She was Das’s favourite student, a Dalit plucked from the slums by Kolkata University’s Uniquely Gifted programme. The girl reminded Das of herself at seventeen, bright and eager to learn and innocent. How things had changed in just twenty years. ” her students said as one. Das nodded. “No lie. In a few days I’ll be hurtling through the void. ” Their disbelief was to be expected; she reminded herself that most of her students had never left Bengal State, never mind the Communist States of India.
And if Kapinsky was spooked enough to subsidise a short vacation, he wasn’t about to complain. He left the reek of singed flesh behind and elbowed his way through the crowd. He was tall, even for a Westerner, and therefore a good head and shoulders taller than the Indians and Thais around him. He could see over the heads of the milling crowd to the near horizon, where skyscrapers and towerpiles bristled like the brandished weapons of a charging army. In the distance a dozen voidliners, great bulging behemoths painted in the various liveries of their lines, moved with gargantuan grace over the spaceport, coming in to land after long voyages across the Expansion or setting forth on trips to the many far-flung colony worlds.
She’d been recruited to the party in her early twenties, tested psi-positive, and given the cut five years later. At the time, she’d hoped that the augmentation would prove to be a way out of the cloistered groves of academia; she’d dreamed of thrilling missions and derring-do, especially after being sent on training courses to hone her self-defence... But her expectations had been based on too many sensational holo-movies as a kid. The work she’d been given had been routine surveillance, snooping and snitching, as she liked to call it.