The Last Human
A Novel
(Sprache: Englisch)
The last human in the universe must battle unfathomable alien intelligences and confront the truth about humanity in this ambitious, galaxy-spanning debut
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The last human in the universe must battle unfathomable alien intelligences and confront the truth about humanity in this ambitious, galaxy-spanning debutA good old-fashioned space opera in a thoroughly fresh package. Andy Weir, author of The Martian
Big ideas and believable science amid a roller-coaster ride of aliens, AI, superintelligence, and the future of humanity. Dennis E. Taylor, author of We Are Legion
Most days, Sarya doesn t feel like the most terrifying creature in the galaxy. Most days, she s got other things on her mind. Like hiding her identity among the hundreds of alien species roaming the corridors of Watertower Station. Or making sure her adoptive mother doesn t casually eviscerate one of their neighbors. Again.
And most days, she can almost accept that she ll never know the truth that she ll never know why humanity was deemed too dangerous to exist. Or whether she really is impossibly the lone survivor of a species destroyed a millennium ago. That is, until an encounter with a bounty hunter and a miles-long kinetic projectile leaves her life and her perspective shattered.
Thrown into the universe at the helm of a stolen ship with the dubious assistance of a rebellious spacesuit, an android death enthusiast on his sixtieth lifetime, and a ball of fluff with an IQ in the thousands Sarya begins to uncover an impossible truth. What if humanity s death and her own existence are simply two moves in a demented cosmic game, one played out by vast alien intellects? Stranger still, what if these mad gods are offering Sarya a seat at their table and a second chance for humanity?
The Last Human is a sneakily brilliant, gleefully oddball space-opera debut a masterful play on perspective, intelligence, and free will, wrapped in a rollicking journey through a strange and crowded galaxy.
Lese-Probe zu „The Last Human “
Chapter OneNot so many years ago, Shenya the Widow was a void-cold killer. And as hobbies no, passions go, it was extraordinarily fulfilling. Hunt all night, feast at dawn, take one s pick of the choicest males before the long day s sleep . . . oh yes. She still fantasizes about it though, sadly, fantasy is all she has left. This is because Shenya the Widow has been conquered, mind and body, by an ancient and terrible force.
Motherhood.
And so she crouches like death s own shadow outside a closed bedroom door and flexes a variety of bladed appendages in quiet reflection. Her own mother warned her about this. She could be hunting right now. She could be streaking through a moonlit forest with the rest of her covenant, the bloodlust boiling in her breast, her hunting cry joining those of her sisters in a chorus of beautiful death . . . but no.
She composes a Network message in her mind. [Sarya the Daughter], says the message. [My love and greatest treasure. My child, for whom I would gladly die. Open this door before I cut it out of the station wall.] She attaches a few choice emotions though she knows her daughter s unit is too basic to read them and fires the message through the Network implant in the back of her head.
[Error, unit not receiving], says the return message. [Have a nice day.]
Shenya releases a slow and wrathful hiss. [Very clever], she sends, tapping a black and gleaming blade against the door. [I know you re receiving, my love. And if you sabotage your unit one more time, well.] She dispatches the message as violently as possible, leans against the hatch, and begins a shrill danger-rattle with every available blade.
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And then with a hiss and the screech of metal on chitin, the hatch slides aside to bathe Shenya the Widow in the blinding glow of her daughter s quarters. She ignores the pain from her eyes must her daughter always keep her room so bright? and waits the moment it takes for her to distinguish the figure that is more collapsed than seated against the far wall. Its utility suit is rumpled, its boots undone, its sleeves and collar pulled as low and as high as they go. Only the head and the ends of the upper limbs are bare, but even that much exposed flesh would have sickened her not long ago.
Back before Shenya the Widow ever dreamed of calling this one daughter, it took her some time to stomach the sight of an intelligence without an exoskeleton. Imagine, a being with only four limbs! And worse, each of these limbs splits into five more at its end well, that is the stuff of nightmares, is it not? As if that were not horrific enough, this being is wrapped top to bottom not in clean and beautiful chitin but in an oily blood-filled organ which is called skin, her research has told her. There is a sporadic dusting of hair over this skin, with a few concentrations in seemingly random spots. Up top there is a great knot of it, long and thick and nearly Widow-dark, wild and falling down in tangles over the strangest eyes one could imagine. Those eyes! Two multicolored orbs that flash like killing strokes, that express emotion nearly as well as a pair of mandibles. One wouldn t think it possible but here it is in action. That gaze that is nearly scorching the floor, that somehow radiates from such odd concentric circles is that a sullen rage?
Sorry about the hatch, says her adopted daughter without looking up. Her upper limbs, Shenya the Widow cannot help but notice, are held dangerously close to an obscene Widow sign. I was getting ready for my field trip.
And now her mother understands: this is a mighty anger, a fur
And then with a hiss and the screech of metal on chitin, the hatch slides aside to bathe Shenya the Widow in the blinding glow of her daughter s quarters. She ignores the pain from her eyes must her daughter always keep her room so bright? and waits the moment it takes for her to distinguish the figure that is more collapsed than seated against the far wall. Its utility suit is rumpled, its boots undone, its sleeves and collar pulled as low and as high as they go. Only the head and the ends of the upper limbs are bare, but even that much exposed flesh would have sickened her not long ago.
Back before Shenya the Widow ever dreamed of calling this one daughter, it took her some time to stomach the sight of an intelligence without an exoskeleton. Imagine, a being with only four limbs! And worse, each of these limbs splits into five more at its end well, that is the stuff of nightmares, is it not? As if that were not horrific enough, this being is wrapped top to bottom not in clean and beautiful chitin but in an oily blood-filled organ which is called skin, her research has told her. There is a sporadic dusting of hair over this skin, with a few concentrations in seemingly random spots. Up top there is a great knot of it, long and thick and nearly Widow-dark, wild and falling down in tangles over the strangest eyes one could imagine. Those eyes! Two multicolored orbs that flash like killing strokes, that express emotion nearly as well as a pair of mandibles. One wouldn t think it possible but here it is in action. That gaze that is nearly scorching the floor, that somehow radiates from such odd concentric circles is that a sullen rage?
Sorry about the hatch, says her adopted daughter without looking up. Her upper limbs, Shenya the Widow cannot help but notice, are held dangerously close to an obscene Widow sign. I was getting ready for my field trip.
And now her mother understands: this is a mighty anger, a fur
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Autoren-Porträt von Zack Jordan
Zack Jordan is a compulsive learner and creator. He holds half an art degree, two thirds of a music degree, and about a quarter of a philosophy degree. He s worked on projects for FEMA, the U.S. Army, and the Department of Defense, none of which elevated his security clearance. He was a designer on several video games including World of Tanks and the F.E.A.R. series, but he s more proud of the indie games and music albums he s released under the name U.S. Killbotics. He lives in Chicago with his wife Tara, and spends his evenings playing various Super Mario games with their two daughters, London and Brooklyn.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Zack Jordan
- 2021, 448 Seiten, Maße: 13,9 x 20,7 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Del Rey
- ISBN-10: 0451499824
- ISBN-13: 9780451499820
- Erscheinungsdatum: 22.03.2021
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
Easily the most fun read I ve had all year! Plays out like a kill squad of Bene Gesserit on a spree in Peter Hamilton s Confederation, using a Hitchhiker s Guide to navigate. Clint McElroy, #1 New York Times bestselling co-author of The Adventure ZoneIf it s strange-realistic alien perspectives that you seek, The Last Human delivers characters who spring from the page with empathy, danger, cryptic motives, and chills, all of it amid plenty of action and mystery, in a galaxy of wondrous possibilities. David Brin, New York Times bestselling author of The Postman and the Uplift Saga
Brimming with sly humor, intelligence, and big ideas. Sue Burke, author of Semiosis
One of the best SF books I ve read in a long time. Dennis E. Taylor, New York Times bestselling author of We Are Legion and The Singularity Trap
The Last Human had me at every page. An epic, galaxy-spanning story of intelligence vs superintelligence, set in maybe the greatest sci-fi universe I ve seen in years. Peter Clines, New York Times bestselling author of The Fold and 14
A work of absolutely reckless imagination. The Last Human is a funny, moving, wildly entertaining space opera about life, the universe, and everything. Elan Mastai, author of All Our Wrong Todays
A wryly funny space opera whose page-turner pace is driven by smart world building, a bold moral calculus, and innovative but weirdly relatable characters. Highly recommended this is a trip you want to take. Scott Hawkins, author of The Library at Mount Char
[A] rollicking debut . . . Jordan s deeply considered treatment of various levels of extraterrestrial intelligence will put readers in mind of the work of Neal Asher and appeal to fans of big-idea science fiction.
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Publishers Weekly
A witty, engaging sf novel for fans of The Hitchhiker s Guide to the Galaxy . . . ponders serious themes such as classism, lack of freedom, and the meaning of destiny, all while injecting this contemplation with humor. Booklist
A witty, engaging sf novel for fans of The Hitchhiker s Guide to the Galaxy . . . ponders serious themes such as classism, lack of freedom, and the meaning of destiny, all while injecting this contemplation with humor. Booklist
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