Providence

eyebrows."

 

"Eyebrow," said the woman. "It's only the right."

 

"A deviant," said Beanfield.

 

"Len's here," called a woman by the door. "Last looks, please!"

 

Gilly took the opportunity to check out the others. Jackson, the captain, was reclining with a white bib tucked around her neck, eyes closed, possibly asleep. She hadn't recorded any clips, either, as far as Gilly had noticed. Between her and Beanfield was Anders, the Weapons Officer. He had a shock of dark hair and light stubble and was probably the most handsome man Gilly had ever met. On the occasions Gilly hadn't been able to avoid seeing his own press, he was always struck by how out of place he looked, like a fan who'd won a contest to meet celebrities. Jackson, the war hero; Anders, the tortured dreamboat; Beanfield, the effortlessly charming social butterfly . . . and Gilly, a permanently startled-looking AI guy who couldn't find a good place to put his hands.

 

The door opened. A man in fatigues entered and clapped his hands. This was Len, their handler from Service: thirtyish and upbeat, carrying a little extra weight. "It's time. How's everybody feeling?"

 

"Like a painted whore," said Anders.

 

"That's perfect," said Len. "We're good to move, then, yes?"

 

"Yes," said Jackson, awake after all. She peeled off her bib and was at the door before the rest of them had managed to extract themselves from their makeup thrones. The silver-lipped woman stepped back and, for the first time in a while, looked into Gilly's eyes instead of around them.

 

"Good luck out there," she said.

 

 

The vanÕs windows were heavily tinted. But as they crossed the tarmac, Gilly caught sight of the shuttle gantry: a towering metal lattice that would launch them into the upper atmosphere. From there, they would rendezvous with the ship, which had recently finished its two-year construction in high orbit. They would then perform a monthlong burn, f

--Peng Shepherd, author of The Book of M

"Max Barry has a true comic writer's pessimism, imprisoning his crew in a ship as indifferent and unreadable as any alien enemy. What must this ship think of its crew? Are they its children? Or an infection it must deal with? Providence is a light-hearted thriller with a superb dark, existential sting in its tail."--London Times

"After all this myth and fantasy, time for some proper SF with aliens and futuristic hardware. Max Barry s Providence sees the four-strong crew of an AI-controlled spaceship shot into deep space to take part in a war against a reptilian extraterrestrial species nicknamed salamanders. Claustrophobia and isolation lead to tensions on board, while the ship itself, almost godlike in its indifference to the people within, pursues its mission regardless. The result is a quirky, character-driven commentary on the mechanisation of conflict and the sheer perversity of human nature."--Financial Times (UK)