Somehow, for all my outward pretence of cold-eyed professionalism, all my insistence that writing is simply a job like any other, I've discovered to my surprise and chagrin that there's more than that going on around here, that I write as much out of karmic necessity and some inescapable inner need to rededicate my own skills constantly to my--what? My craft? My art? My profession? I wrote these stories because the only way of earning a living I have ever had has been by writing, but mainly, I have to admit, I wrote these stories because I couldn't not write them. Well, so be it. They involved me in a lot of hard work, but for me, at least, the results justify the toil. I'm glad I wrote them. Writing them, it turns out, was important for me, and even pleasurable, in a curiously complex after-the-fact kind of way. May they give you pleasure now too.'Table of Contents:IntroductionOur Lady of the SauropodsWaiting for the EarthquakeThe RegularsThe Far Side of the Bell-Shaped CurveA Thousand Paces Along the Via DolorosaHow They Pass the Time in PelpelThe Palace at MidnightThe Man Who Floated in TimeGianniThe Pope of the ChimpsThesme and the GhayrogAt the Conglomeroid Cocktail PartyThe Trouble with SempoangaJennifer’s LoverNot Our BrotherGate of Horn, Gate of IvoryDancers in the Time-FluxNeedle in a TimestackAmanda and the AlienSnake and Ocean, Ocean and SnakeThe ChangelingBasileusHomefaring