Jeff Noon

novel, science fiction, cyberpunk, avant pulp, drugs

Near future, Manchester, England. First novel. Winner of the 1994 Arthur C.Clarke Award. Originally issued as a slightly larger than normal paperback (but smaller than a trade edition). The hardcover wasn't issued until 1995, and was primarily aimed at the american audience. The final two pages are missing from the hardcover edition [these two pages are available in Mark/Space thanks to permission from Jeff Noon and Ringpull Press]. Translated into Italian. Jeff Noon followed this book with a sequel, Pollen .

• Biograph -- Jeff Noon

• Books by Jeff Noon

A few hours ago Game Cat took me out to see Sniffing General, and we called up door number eight.

IS THAT WISE, SIR?
'I think so. Just put us through.'
JUST LET ME ... THERE ... I HAVE IT ...

We found ourselves in a large bedroom. The room was bathed in darkness. I was blind to everything.

'Let your eyes grow accustomed,' the Cat whispered.

So I waited. It took a minute or two. And even then only the slightest purple glow to the world. There were shapes around the bed, but they were too smothered in shadow; only the bed itself made any impression. It was an old style four-poster, with yellowing sheets and a layer of dust. There was a shape in the bed, pushing the covers into a small mound. I moved closer, until I could see the face that rested on the pillows. It was an old, old lady, her skin wrinkled a thousand times, into valleys of age.

'This is Miss Hobart?' I asked.
'Be careful. We mustn't wake her.'

So I lowered my voice to a whisper: 'How old is she?'
'Ages.'

I couldn't take my eyes off her, and when she spoke, it was just the softest breath inside my head.

'Good evening, kind sir.'

Her face had not moved, her lips, her closed eyes, her furrowed brow, all in stillness. The Cat gently nudged my arm. And so, quietly, I said to her: 'Good evening... Miss Hobart.'

Her face of shadows. Her breath slipping away from me.

'This will be your job, Scribble. When I'm finished.'
I looked over at the Game Cat, but could hardly make him out in the gloom. 'What do you mean, finished?'
'Nothing lasts for ever.'
'Not even in the Vurt?'
'Not even in the Vurt.'
'What should I do?'
'Make sure that she doesn't wake. The time is not right.'
'What would happen?'
'We're all in there, Scribble. Inside Miss Hobart's head. All the Vurt. That's where we start. Do you understand?'
'I understand.'
'Be very quiet. Be very, very quiet.'
'I will.'
I will ...

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