[September 2007 -- "A Billion Eves" wins the Hugo Award for Best Novella at Nippon 2007. Here were the acceptance notes given to Scott Edelman to read on Bob's behalf --]

SPEECH NUMBER ONE (TO BE GIVEN IN THE UNLIKELY OCCURRENCE THAT EITHER STORY WINS, USING A HUMBLE VOICE AND A SMUG GRIN)

First of all, I am surprised. Very surprised. If I were a betting man, I wouldn’t have given myself one chance in ten of winning this amazing honor. My thanks go out to NIPPON 2007 and WorldCon 65, and to those quirky souls who voted for this year’s Hugos. Sheila Williams, the editor of ASIMOV’S SCIENCE FICTION, saw the potential of this story, and she has my eternal gratitude. And I must praise that good magazine’s former editor, Gardner Dozois, for his long-time support of my goofy, galloping ideas.

At this moment, I’d like to repeat the truism that science fiction is memorable because of its ideas. And nifty ideas translated into short fiction seem to be far more infectious than those notions that are buried deep inside the convoluted plotlines of novels and series of novels. Without your support—and by support, I mean your money—the short-fiction markets will continue to wither. Our best talents, being creative souls, will eventually find other outlets. But something important will be diminished, if not lost altogether. And I don’t see why that should make any of us happy.

Finally, I’d like to thank my wife, Leslie, for her endless encouragement, and my representative at NIPPON 2007, Scott Edelman, for his gracious help and good humor.

Best wishes, and pleasant nightmares.

-- Robert Reed

[The novelette "Roxie" appeared in the July 2007 issue of Asimov's.]

[May 2007]

I walked my dog the other night.

This happens once or twice a month. In the past, she usually acts young and strong, racing up and down our stairs or straining at the leash to chase rabbits. But there always comes that moment when I think to myself, "God, you're in great shape, girl. Considering you're dead." And then I pop awake, my heart kicking and my nerves frayed.

But my last dream involved an older, somewhat heavier dog. Our walk was lazy and happy, and about midway through, I remembered that she was gone. But I didn't wake up. Instead, he took a lap together in the park, and I eventually drifted out of sleep without fuss or regrets.

Roxie died almost exactly a year ago.

This photograph was taken in 2002, on our back patio. By me, I believe.

Think what you will about the heavy steel chain, but she broke free of it at least twice.

-- Robert Reed

[The novelette "Roxie" appeared in the July 2007 issue of Asimov's.]