Now available in a redesigned edition, Tanith Lee's sci-fi classic of a woman's quest for acceptance through the transfer of her consciousness to an artificial body. In the futuristic world of Indigo, reproduction is controlled by the government, guaranteeing that every baby is happy, healthy, and beautiful. But mistakes happen, and a rare few babies are accidentally born biologically, like Magdala Cled. Because of her natural-born features, Magdala is an outcast in society--abandoned at birth, abused in the orphanage she grew up in, and branded with the cruel name "Ugly." But Magdala's world turns upside down when she's approached by Claudio Loro, a wealthy scientist who has created a beautiful artificial body. When he offers to transfer Magdala's consciousness into the body, she cannot refuse the priceless opportunity for a new, beautiful life. However, unbeknownst to her, Claudio has crafted her new body to resemble Christophine del Jan, his rival scientist and former lover. Now Magdala must impersonate Christophine to infiltrate high society, court Claudio's advances, and decide whose side she is truly on--all while maintaining her real body lest it die...and she die with it.

Praise for Electric Forest:

"Tanith Lee writes in sensual, emotion-rich prose." —Publishers Weekly

"Tanith Lee is a master at the art of disguise. Electric Forest, her latest venture, appears at first to be an offshoot of the classic Frankenstein, but just when you think you're on terra firma, Lee expertly pulls the rug out from under you. Don't miss this one." —The Jackson Sun

"Tanith Lee, again, shows her talent for writing a "can't put it down" book and shows that besides being a top-notch fantasy and science fiction writer, she is inventive as well. Highly recommended." —Baryon Magazine

"Electric Forest is more than an excellent novel—it is, in my opinion, one of the best works science fiction has so far produced, something I will reread for the rest of my life.... The story is gripping, the writing is excellent, the plot twists are dazzling—but even more, Electric Forest turns the reader inside-out, emotionally." —Ares

"This is the first Lee novel I've read and I'm impressed and delighted with her sensual style, her talents, and her mastery of language and narrative. There may not be one unnecessary word in this novel, and yet it is so rich and detailed and well-told that it arouses awe." —Science Fiction Review

Autorentext

Tanith Lee

Leseprobe

One

 

Quarry and Hunter

 

I

 

Ugly stood alone before the processing machine.

 

The machine made certain types of cottene clothing, but Ugly never saw the syntho-cotton fed in at one tube above, nor the crisp white garments snowing out from the other below. Neither did she witness the actual metamorphosis that went on inside the machine in front of her. In the restricted space, three meters by two, Ugly stood alone with the processing machine and ran her stubby hands, clumsily but effectively, over the bank of green and red keys. It was simple to keep the machine functioning. The task should have left her mind free to think of other things.

 

Unfortunately, Ugly had very little to think about.

 

Ugly's shift comprised three hours on alternate days-five days a Dek; that was each oneday, threeday, fiveday, sevenday, and nineday. Every fifth Dek was free. For this program of work, Ugly received two hundred astrads each calendar month (four Deks), of which about one hundred and fifty went on accommodation, food, and essentials. Fifty astrads were nearly always left over to be spent on relaxation and pleasure. Unfortunately, again, Ugly was not in an ideal position to spend them.

 

Ugly's name, of course, was not actually "Ugly." That was merely what most people-children, workmates-called her. It was not even a particularly cruel name any more, simply blisteringly accurate. No longer spoken in malice, it had lost some of its intrinsic offense-and gained some. Ugly herself had never commented on the matter, either way, nor on her real and registered name, Magdala Cled.

 

On any planet of the Earth conclave, fetal conception was the controlled result of selective, artificial impregnation. This ensured that all children born were healthy. Occasionally, however, mistakes occurred in the area of contraception, and a fetus was conceived biologically. Sometimes, such children were less than perfect. It had happened that Magdala Cled was one of these.

 

Her mother was a licensed prostitute; no one had bothered to identify her father. Intent on trade, the woman had forgone abortion until too late. She had subsequently dispelled her baby and dumped it, with the required five hundred astrads, on the State. Magdala had grown up in a state children's home.

 

A potential intelligence and interest had quickly submerged beneath regulation mechanical schooling that gave no outlet for speculation or the asking of even the most basic questions. It submerged, too, beneath the primitive malignancy of her fellow inmates, who (in their defense) were half-afraid of Magdala. For it was a society of regular features and well-formed physiognomy, and monsters were rare.

 

"Ugly!" the children screamed, as they tore Magdala's hair out, tripped her, stuck into her small sharp objects, pinched and kicked her. Almost as if, by constant assault, they could change her into something less dreadful.

 

But Magdala Cled, re-named Ugly, only grew uglier.

 

Just under one and a half meters in adult height, a great engine seemed to have descended upon her, squashing her downwards and sideways, and twisting her for good measure. Squat, square and irreparably leaning, Magdala walked with a sort of part-lagging, part-hopping step. From her skew shoulders, arms hung like afterthoughts, with spatulate afterthoughts of hands on them. And from her head, an afterthought of thin murky hair, chopped off at the neck. The modeling of the skull itself did show some mocking promise. Under other circumstances, it could have been the skull of an aware and creative woman. The face might have been poignant, though never pretty. But even that had not been possible for it. The flattened nose, the left eyelid which lay permanently almost closed on the gray-white cheek, had seen to that. Only the mouth was well-formed, though the teeth had broken long ago and been replaced by haphazard dental implants, shabby as the fate which had necessitated them.

 

Certainly, Magdala, in the most absolute sense, merited her second name. It suited her; she would have been the last to deny that.

 

Only inside her, never let out, the bewildered anger hid, the pain and fury. She hid them also from herself, when she could, did ugly Magdala.

 

On Earth Conclave planet Indigo, cosmetic surgery cost more astrads than a processory operative could save in seven years. Even the un-spendthrift Magdala. For there was not much call for such surgery, and the fee compensated. Besides, Magdala had only to glimpse herself in a reflective surface to know she would need more work upon herself than any physical human body could stand.

 

She was a hopeless case.

 

And if she thought about anything, as her stunted efficient fingers scrambled over the keys of her machine, ugly Magdala thought of that. A formless and useless sort of thinking, more like an ache in her brain than a thought. While sometimes superimposed upon the basic hopelessness was a list of that day's familiar miseries-the looks of strangers; pity and revulsion, the disgusted and desensitized looks of acquaintances (there were no friends).

 

And under it all, checked yet eternal, blazing anguish, howling.

 

 

At thirteen hours, Indigo noon, Magdala&Otil…