By Larry Niven, Gregory Benford
During this first collaboration via technological know-how fiction masters Larry Niven (Ringworld) and Gregory Benford (Timescape), the boundaries of ask yourself are redrawn once more as a human excursion to a different celebrity process is jeopardized by means of an come across with an astonishingly massive artifact in interstellar area: a bowl-shaped constitution half-englobing a celeb, with a liveable sector such as many thousands of Earths…and it’s on an immediate course heading for a similar procedure because the human ship.
A touchdown celebration is distributed to enquire the Bowl, but if the explorers are separated—one crew captured by way of the large structure’s alien population, the opposite pursued throughout its unusual and hazardous landscape—the secret of the Bowl’s origins and function propel the human voyagers towards discoveries that would remodel their figuring out in their position within the universe.
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Additional resources for Bowl of Heaven (Bowl of Heaven, Book 1)
The body had retained in death the position it had last adopted in life: seated upright, feet crossed at the ankles, hands placed on lap. What made a mockery of the body’s posture was the absence of its head. The dark orifice of the windpipe and a notched stub of backbone showed in cross section. The impact of the projectile had blasted the skull and its contents in a liquidised spray across the room and against the far wall. " Vishi nodded to a vacant armchair. " Chandra sighed. "Okay. I want you to question her, find out if she noticed anything.
When the girl stumped through the open door Nazruddin, all belly and belligerent walrus moustache, ran around the counter flicking his dusting cloth at her. ," Vaughan called. " The Sikh was sceptical. "Ah-cha. " The girl hobbled past the restaurateur, a smug expression on her face. She slipped into the booth, facing Vaughan, and he closed his eyes briefly as the music of her mind overcame him. She rolled a vial of blue powder across the table. His hands shaking, he opened the vial and tasted the powder on the tip of his finger.
Beyond the ‘port, the city was a patchwork of residential apartments, hotels, parks, and gardens, shot through with long roads and pedestrian walkways. Bengal Station was a cultural amalgam of Calcutta and Bangkok: on the upper-deck the latest polycarbon architecture designed in India and Thailand created a state-of-the art skyline, while overhead fliers mach’d along colour-coded air corridors. The nineteen levels below were enclosed, each shelf a claustrophobic hive-city of corridors, walkways, and roads between cramped, two-storey structures, inhabited by citizens who never saw the light of day for years on end.