Opening: Chalcedony wasn't built for crying. She didn't have it in her, not unless her tears were cold tapered glass droplets annealed by the inferno heat that had crippled her.
Such tears as that might slide down her skin over melted sensors to plink unfeeling on the sand. And if they had, she would have scooped them up, with all the other battered pretties, and added them to the wealth of trash jewels that swung from the nets reinforcing her battered carapace. Read more...
Capsule: Another great entry by Elizabeth Bear. The attention to detail in the robotic creation, the boy, and the seashore backdrop is exquisite. The development of action makes perfect sense in the context of the story's world, and the ending is emotionally significant and steers clear of being overwrought on the one hand or overly whismical on the other. This one really worked for me. An sf short story gem.
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