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urronerEagle Mountain author wins Nebula Award
For the unwashed and less educated plebes out there, that's you too Schmoe (tee hee hee), a Utah Mermon won a very prestigious award in the genre of Science Fiction, the Nebuala Award.
It a great read and it ain't that long, only 8,300 words. For Craigo, it would take him only five or six minutes to read, but for Hawk, well, that's several hours with his wife reading out all the words longer that seven letters.
It's a story about a branch president of the Church who has moved to the middle of the Sun with a couple of human members and a couple of non-human members who are very different from humans especially when it comes to their idea of what is and isn't sin.
Here's the story: That Leviathan, Whom Thou Hast Made.
For the unwashed and less educated plebes out there, that's you too Schmoe (tee hee hee), a Utah Mermon won a very prestigious award in the genre of Science Fiction, the Nebuala Award.
Eric James Stone of Eagle Mountain pulled off a rare and monumental feat on May 21, winning a short fiction Nebula Award for his novelette âThat Leviathan, Whom Thou Hast Made.â The Nebula Awards, given annually for books and short fiction by the Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers of America, are among the most prestigious awards in speculative fiction, rivaled only by the Hugo Awards and the World Fantasy Awards.
It a great read and it ain't that long, only 8,300 words. For Craigo, it would take him only five or six minutes to read, but for Hawk, well, that's several hours with his wife reading out all the words longer that seven letters.
It's a story about a branch president of the Church who has moved to the middle of the Sun with a couple of human members and a couple of non-human members who are very different from humans especially when it comes to their idea of what is and isn't sin.
Sol Central Station floated amid the fusing hydrogen of the solar core, 400,000 miles under the surface of the sun, protected only by the thin shell of an energy shield, but that wasnât why my palm sweat slicked the plastic pulpit of the stationâs multidenominational chapel. As a life-long Mormon I had been speaking in church since I was a child, so that didnât make me nervous, either. But this was my first time speaking when non-humans were in the audience.
The Sol Branch of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints had only six human members, including me and the two missionaries, but there were forty-six swale members. As beings made of plasma, swales couldnât attend church in the chapel, of course, but a ten-foot widescreen monitor across the back wall showed a false-color display of their magnetic force-lines, gathered in clumps of blue and red against the yellow background representing the solar interior. The screen did not give a sense of size, but at two hundred feet in length, the smallest of the swales was almost double the length of a blue whale. From what Iâd heard, the largest Mormon swale, Sister Emma, stretched out to almost five hundred feet â but she was nowhere near the twenty-four-mile length of the largest swale in our sun.
Here's the story: That Leviathan, Whom Thou Hast Made.