Prologue

“Run!  NOW!”  TJ shouted, yanking at Allison’s sleeve.  Her eyes were focused on the ground, where their friend lay, twitching slightly.  An arrow shaft stuck out of his chest.  Her first thought was that it was all part of the game – just some elaborate prank for the newbies on their first outing.  If so, it wasn’t very funny. 

But there was no way that arrow was fake.  The noise it had made when it struck.  The blood that was rapidly spreading across his clothes.  The r. . .

If my nightmare is a culture inhabited by posthumans who regard their bodies as fashion accessories rather than the ground of being, my dream is a version of the posthuman that embraces the possibilities of information technologies without being seduced by fantasies of unlimited power and disembodied immortality, that recognizes and celebrates finitude as a condition of human being, and that understands human life is embedded in a material world of great complexity, one on whi. . .

If my nightmare is a culture inhabited by posthumans who regard their bodies as fashion accessories rather than the ground of being, my dream is a version of the posthuman that embraces the possibilities of information technologies without being seduced by fantasies of unlimited power and disembodied immortality, that recognizes and celebrates finitude as a condition of human being, and that understands human life is embedded in a material world of great complexity, one on whi. . .