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Los aliados de Mary Hightower, que yace en un ataúd de cristal, han emprendido su espantosa misión. A su ejército se une un recién llegado: Jix, espía del rey maya de Everlost, cuyas intenciones puede que no sean tan claras como creen. Mikey intenta desesperadamente rescatar a Allie, mientras que Nick apenas recuerda quién era antes. Y entretanto, a medida que se forjan nuevas alianzas e intrigas, la lucha por el alma de Everlost llega a su punto álgido. En la evocadora trilogía de Everlost, Neal Shusterman -autor de libros tan exitosos como Siega y ganador del Premio Nacional de Literatura Juvenil en Estados Unidos- explora temas como la vida, la muerte y lo que podría haber a medio camino. Neal Shusterman
Neal Shusterman (Author), Chema Agullo (Narrator)
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Los caminos de Nick y Allie se han separado en Everlost, la extraña tierra a la que llegaron tras su accidente. Nick quiere ayudar a los muertos para que dejen atrás ese limbo, pero la autoproclamada reina de las almas perdidas prefiere mantenerlos atrapados en Everlost para toda la eternidad. Por su parte, Allie ha emprendido un viaje con un antiguo monstruo para buscar a sus padres. Será en esa travesía cuando descubra una impactante verdad que la llevará a cuestionarse su lugar en ambos mundos, el de los vivos y el de los muertos. En la evocadora trilogía de Everlost, Neal Shusterman -autor de libros tan exitosos como Siega y ganador del Premio Nacional de Literatura Juvenil en Estados Unidos- explora temas como la vida, la muerte y lo que podría haber a medio camino.
Neal Shusterman (Author), Chema Agullo (Narrator)
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The World That Couldn't Be by Clifford D. Simak - Like every farmer on every planet, Duncan had to hunt down anything that damaged his crops—even though he was aware this was—The World That Couldn’t Be The tracks went up one row and down another, and in those rows the vua plants had been sheared off an inch or two above the ground. The raider had been methodical; it had not wandered about haphazardly, but had done an efficient job of harvesting the first ten rows on the west side of the field. Then, having eaten its fill, it had angled off into the bush—and that had not been long ago, for the soil still trickled down into the great pug marks, sunk deep into the finely cultivated loam. Somewhere a sawmill bird was whirring through a log, and down in one of the thorn-choked ravines, a choir of chatterers was clicking through a ghastly morning song. It was going to be a scorcher of a day. Already the smell of desiccated dust was rising from the ground and the glare of the newly risen sun was dancing off the bright leaves of the hula-trees, making it appear as if the bush were filled with a million flashing mirrors. Gavin Duncan hauled a red bandanna from his pocket and mopped his face. 'No, mister,' pleaded Zikkara, the native foreman of the farm. 'You cannot do it, mister. You do not hunt a Cytha.' 'The hell I don't,' said Duncan, but he spoke in English and not the native tongue. He stared out across the bush, a flat expanse of sun-cured grass interspersed with thickets of hula-scrub and thorn and occasional groves of trees, criss-crossed by treacherous ravines and spotted with infrequent waterholes. It would be murderous out there, he told himself, but it shouldn't take too long. The beast probably would lay up shortly after its pre-dawn feeding and he'd overhaul it in an hour or two. But if he failed to overhaul it, then he must keep on.
Clifford D. Simak (Author), Scott Miller (Narrator)
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Living Space by Isaac Asimov - Having mastered probability lanes, man found an indefinite number of Earths—and everyone could have a planet all to himself, if he wanted. But there was one joker in the deal... Clarence Rimbro had no objections to living in the only house on an uninhabited planet, any more than had any other of Earth’s even trillion of inhabitants. If someone had questioned him concerning possible objections, he would undoubtedly have stared blankly at the questioner. His house was much larger than any house could possibly be on Earthproper, and much more modern. It had its independent air-supply and water-supply; ample food in its freezing compartments. It was isolated from the lifeless planet on which it was located by a force-field, but the rooms were built about a five-acre farm (under glass, of course) which, in the planet’s beneficient sunlight, grew flowers for pleasure and vegetables for health. It even supported a few chickens. It gave Mrs. Rimbro something to do with herself afternoons, and a place for the two little Rimbros to play when they were tired of indoors. Furthermore, if one wanted to be on Earth-proper; if one insisted on it; if one had to have people around, and air one could breathe in the open, or water to swim in — one had only to go out of the front door of the house. So where was the difficulty?
Isaac Asimov (Author), Scott Miller (Narrator)
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Get ready for an unforgettable adventure with Cate the butterfly! One day, while lost in a daydream, Cate finds herself in the middle of a mystery. The flower petals in her garden are missing, and she can't figure out what happened. But when she comes face-to-face with a bumblebee, everything changes.At first, Cate is frightened by the bumblebee's size and unfamiliar appearance. But soon, she discovers that this mysterious creature is on a mission to protect his family. This enchanting tale will capture the imaginations of readers young and old. Don't miss out on the adventure of a lifetime with Cate and her new friend! Cate and the Garden Bandits highlights the importance of interdependence and inclusion. In our ever-growing global world, these are becoming more and more important themes, where every individual counts and is equal in value.
Betsy Coffeen (Author), Emma Andreasen Moore (Narrator)
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Before Eden by Arthur C. Clarke - Venus wasn't the virgin planet Mankind had always assumed. It was simply that we got there too soon. 'I guess,' said Jerry Garfield, cutting the engines, 'that this is the end of the line.' With a gentle sigh, the underjets faded out; deprived of its air-cushion, the scout-car Rambling Wreck settled down upon the twisted rocks of the Hesperian Plateau. There was no way forward; neither on its jets nor its tractors could S.5—to give the Wreck its official name—scale the escarpment that lay ahead. The South Pole of Venus was only thirty miles away, but it might have , been on another planet. They would have to turn back, and retrace their four-hundred-mile journey through this nightmare landscape. The weather was fantastically clear, with visibility of almost a thousand yards. There was no need of radar to show the cliffs ahead; for once, the naked eye was good enough. The green auroral light, filtering down through clouds that had rolled unbroken for a million years, gave the scene an underwater appearance, and the way in which all distant objects blurred into the haze added to the impression. Sometimes it was easy to believe that they were driving across a shallow sea-bed, and more than once Jerry had imagined that he had seen fish floating overhead. 'Shall I call the ship, and say we’re turning back?' he asked. 'Not yet,' said Dr. Hutchins. 'I want to think.' Jerry shot an appealing glance at the third member of the crew, but found no moral support there. Coleman was just as bad; although the two men argued furiously half the time, they were both scientists and therefore, in the opinion of a hard-headed engineer-navigator, not wholly responsible citizens. If Cole and Hutch had bright ideas about going forward, there was nothing he could do except register a protest.
Arthur C. Clarke (Author), Scott Miller (Narrator)
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The Call From Beyond by Clifford D. Simak - Alone, accursed, he set out on the long, dark voyage to the forbidden gateway to worlds beyond life itself—restless forever with an ultimate knowledge, possessing which no man could die! The pyramid was built of bottles, hundreds of bottles that flashed and glinted as if with living fire, picking up and breaking up the misty light that filtered from the distant sun and still more distant stars. Frederick West took a slow step forward, away from the open port of his tiny ship. He shook his head and shut his eyes and opened them again and the pyramid was still there. So it was no figment, as he had feared, of his imagination, born in the darkness and the loneliness of his flight from Earth. It was there and it was a crazy thing. Crazy because it should not be there, at all. There should be nothing here on this almost unknown slab of tumbling stone and metal. For no one lived on Pluto's moon. No one ever visited Pluto's moon. Even he, himself, hadn't intended to until, circling it to have a look before going on to Pluto, he had seen that brief flash of light, as if someone might be signaling. It had been the pyramid, of course. He knew that now. The stacked-up bottles catching and reflecting light. Behind the pyramid stood a space hut, squatted down among the jagged boulders. But there was no movement, no sign of life. No one was tumbling out of the entrance lock to welcome him. And that was strange, he thought. For visitors must be rare, if, indeed, they came at all. Perhaps the pyramid really was a signaling device, although it would be a clumsy way of signaling. More likely a madman's caprice. Come to think of it, anyone who was sufficiently deranged to live on Pluto's moon would be a fitting architect for a pyramid of bottles.
Clifford D. Simak (Author), Scott Miller (Narrator)
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The Foxholes of Mars: The wars of the far future will be fought with giant spaceships, but it will s
War never changes. Men fight men with rocks and spears then with arrows and cannon. Future men will fight with advanced weapons like space ships, vibration rays, cobalt bombs and robots but they will still fight. In the end, after the space battles have ended, it will still require the grunts, whether in the shape of men or Martians or bugs or jellyfish, to hold the planets. Beings in the mud of a thousand worlds, beings used like fodder to actually hold what is being contested. The beings in foxholes. And these beings will become just as bitter and angry and hateful in the future as they have become in all of the past. They will be dangerous.
Fritz Leiber (Author), Philip Chenevert (Narrator)
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The Spaceship With a Human Brain: The humans were desperate enough to try anything! Even to puttin
It was all very confusing, the reasons for the war, the nature of the enemy. The Yucconae had been contacted on one of the outlying planets of Proxima Centauri. At the approach of the Terran ship, a host of dark slim pencils had lifted abruptly and shot off into the distance. The first real encounter came between three of the yuk pencils and a single exploration ship from Terra. No Terrans survived. After that it was all out war, with no holds barred. Now though, the Yucks had made their mine fields sentient, they could seek out and destroy Terran ships. The only response was to put a human brain into a ship. The results were, to say the least, surprising to everyone. No one expected what would happen. Least of all the generals who thought up the idea. The human brain in the spaceship had ideas of his own and they did not include listening to the generals.
Philp K. Dick (Author), Philip Chenevert (Narrator)
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[French] - La dernière saison de Selim
L’empire de Selim, son soleil de plomb, ses dunes à perte de vue, son sultan cruel fils de tyran cruel, sa religion incarnée par la Déesse Innommable, sans oublier sa Prophétie qui a commencé à se réaliser, inoculant la peur car tout le monde connaît ses dernières strophes : 'Lorsque le soleil ne se lèvera plus, ce que vous consommez vous consumera.' Avant qu’il ne soit trop tard, l’impossible doit être fait et la dernière chance de Selim repose sur un étrange duo : Esmée et Mercenaire. Après le fabuleux Royaume de Pierre d'Angle (prix Elbakin et prix Millepages du roman SF-Fantasy 2019), Pascale Quiviger renoue avec son univers monde et certains de ses personnages les plus emblématiques...
Pascale Quiviger (Author), Julien Allouf (Narrator)
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The Pause by Isaac Asimov The white powder was confined within a thin-walled, transparent capsule. The capsule in turn was heat-sealed into a double strip of parafilm. Along that strip of parafilm were other capsules at six-inch intervals. The strip moved. Each capsule in the course of events rested for one minute on a metal jaw immediately beneath a mica window. On another portion of the face of the radiation counter a number clicked out upon an unrolling cylinder of paper. The capsule moved on; the next took its place. The number printed at 1 P.M. was 308. A minute later 256 appeared. A minute later, 391. A minute later, 477. A minute later, 202. A minute later, 251. A minute later, 000. A minute later, 000. A minute later, 000. A minute later, 000. Shortly after 2:00 P.M. Mr. Alexander Johannison passed by the counter and the corner of one eye stubbed itself over the row of figures. Two steps past the counter he stopped and returned. He ran the paper cylinder backward, then restored its position and said, 'Nuts!' He said it with vehemence. He was tall and thin, with bigknuckled hands, sandy hair and light eyebrows. He looked tired and, at the moment, perplexed. Gene Damelli wandered his way with the same easy carelessness he brought to all his actions. He was dark, hairy, and on the short side. His nose had once been broken and it made him look curiously unlike the popular conception of the nuclear physicist.
Isaac Asimov (Author), Scott Miller (Narrator)
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No Morning After by Arthur C. Clarke 'But this is terrible!' said the Supreme Scientist. 'Surely there is something we can do!' 'Yes, Your Cognizance, but it will be extremely difficult. The planet is more than 500 light–years away, and it is very hard to maintain contact. However, we believe we can establish a bridgehead. Unfortunately, that is not the only problem. So far, we've been unable to communicate with these beings. Their telepathic powers are exceedingly rudimentary–perhaps even non-existent. And if we cannot talk to them, there is no way in which we can help.' There was a long mental silence while the Supreme Scientist analyzed the situation and arrived, as he always did, at the correct answer.
Arthur C. Clarke (Author), Scott Miller (Narrator)
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