I was deep in a Californian orgy when the summons came, like the voice of conscience. In fact: the voice of Father Declan, and not meant for me. But I had not been idle in the two years of the Malacandra’s passage, nor in the even more dragging months of its inching across the Martian surface like one of the old, brave little rovers. I had the ship’s comms thoroughly tapped. ...
As MacLeod noted in a recent post on his blog, “Erudite critics may detect a subtle element of homage to Roger Zelazny's classic 1964 short story, "A Rose for Ecclesiastes". True, but mine has genomics! And total depravity!”
Thanks to Tinkoo of the blog Variety SF for the tip!
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