By Samuel R. Delany
Author note: Neil Gaiman (Foreword)
Publish 12 months note: First released in 1967
The Einstein Intersection received the Nebula Award for top technological know-how fiction novel of 1967.
The floor tale tells of the issues a member of an alien race, Lo Lobey, has assimilating the mythology of earth, the place his style have settled one of the leftover artifacts of humanity. The deeper story issues, even though, the way in which people who find themselves "different" needs to care for the dominant cultural ideology.
The story follows Lobey's mythic quest for his misplaced love, Friza. In luminous and hallucinated language, it explores what new myths could emerge from the detritus of the human international as those who find themselves "different" attempt to grab background and the day.
Hugo Award Nominee for top Novel (1968)
Nebula Award for most sensible Novel (1968)
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Extra info for The Einstein Intersection
Beside me in the wall was a grating about three feet high, with the bars set askew. It was probably a drain. I fell through. And dropped about four feet to a sloping floor. It was pitch-black above me and there was a hand grasping and grasping in the dark. I could hear it scrabbling against the wall. I took a swipe overhead, and my blade struck something moving. Roaaaaaa . . The sound was blunted behind stone. But from my side came the sharp retort of his palm as he started slapping. I dived forward.
Somebody saying, Wait till it gets light enough so you'll know I'm here. "Le Dorik was with me after sunrise. " Nativia asked, wonderingly. Bewildered, I returned to the village. La Dire and Lo Hawk met me at the source-cave. We spoke together a bit; I watched them thinking deeply about things I didn't understand, about my bewilderment. 'You're a good hunter, Lo Lobey," Lo Hawk said at last, "and though a bit outsized below the waist, a fair specimen of a man. You have much danger ahead of you; I've taught you much.
There were many cracks in the high ceiling, here and there lighting on the floor a branch clawing crisped leaves or the rim of a hole that might go down a few inches, a few feet, or drop to the lowest levels of the sourcecave that were thousands of feet below. I came to a fork, started beneath the vault to the left, and ten feet into the darkness tripped and rolled down a flight of shallow steps, once through a puddle (my hand splatting out in the darkness), once over dry leaves (they roared their own roar beneath my side), and landed at the bottom in a shaft of light, knees and palms on gravel.
The Einstein Intersection by Samuel R. Delany