Accelerando 
A novel by Charles Stross 
Copyright (c) Charles Stross, 2005 
Published by 
Ace Books, New York, July 2005, ISBN 0441012841 
Orbit Books, London, August 2005, ISBN 1841493902 
License 
Creative Commons License Copyright (c) Charles Stross, 2005. This work is licensed 
under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License. Full 
terms and conditions at: 
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.5/ 
Summary: 
You are free to copy, distribute, display, and perform the work under the following 
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* Attribution. You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the author or 
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Derivative Works. You may not alter, transform, or build upon this work. * For any reuse 
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If you are in doubt about any proposed reuse, you should contact the author via: 
http://www.accelerando.org/ 
Dedication 
For Feorag, with love 
Acknowledgements 
This book took me five years to write - a personal record - and would not exist without 
the support and encouragement of a host of friends, and several friendly editors. Among 
the many people who read and commented on the early drafts are: Andrew J. Wilson, 
Stef Pearson, Gav Inglis, Andrew Ferguson, Jack Deighton, Jane McKie, Hannu 
Rajaniemi, Martin Page, Stephen Christian, Simon Bisson, Paul Fraser, Dave Clements, 
Ken MacLeod, Damien Broderick, Damon Sicore, Cory Doctorow, Emmet O'Brien, 
Andrew Ducker, Warren Ellis, and Peter Hollo. (If your name isn't on this list, blame my
memory - my neural prostheses are off-line.) 
I mentioned several friendly editors earlier: I relied on the talented midwifery of Gardner 
Dozois, who edited Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine at the time, and Sheila Williams, 
who quietly and diligently kept the wheels rolling. My agent Caitlin Blasdell had a hand 
in it too, and I'd like to thank my editors Ginjer Buchanan at Ace and Tim Holman at 
Orbit for their helpful comments and advice. 
Finally, I'd like to thank everyone who e-mailed me to ask when the book was coming, or 
who voted for the stories that were shortlisted for awards. You did a great job of keeping 
me focused, even during the periods when the whole project was too daunting to 
contemplate. 
Publication History 
Portions of this book originally appeared in Asimov's SF Magazine as follows: 
"Lobsters" (June 2001), "Troubadour" (Oct/Nov 2001), "Tourist" (Feb 2002), "Halo" 
(June 2002), "Router" (Sept 2002), "Nightfall" (April 2003), "Curator" (Dec 2003), 
"Elector" (Oct/Nov 2004), "Survivor" (Dec 2004). 
Contents 
Part 1: Slow Takeoff 
+ Lobsters + Troubadour + Tourist 
Part 2: Point of Inflection 
+ Halo + Router + Nightfall 
Part 3: Singularity 
+ Curator + Elector + Survivor 
PART 1: Slow Takeoff 
"The question of whether a computer can think is no more interesting than the question of 
whether a submarine can swim." 
- Edsger W. Dijkstra 
 
 
Chapter 1 
: Lobsters
Manfred's on the road again, making strangers rich. 
It's a hot summer Tuesday, and he's standing in the plaza in front of the Centraal Station 
with his eyeballs powered up and the sunlight jangling off the canal, motor scooters and 
kamikaze cyclists whizzing past and tourists chattering on every side. The square smells 
of water and dirt and hot metal and the fart-laden exhaust fumes of cold catalytic 
converters; the bells of trams ding in the background, and birds flock overhead. He 
glances up and grabs a pigeon, crops the shot, and squirts it at his weblog to show he's 
arrived. The bandwidth is good here, he realizes; and it's not just the bandwidth, it's the 
whole scene. Amsterdam is making him feel wanted already, even though he's fresh off 
the train from Schiphol: He's infected with the dynamic optimism of another time zone, 
another city. If the mood holds, someone out there is going to become very rich indeed. 
He wonders who it's going to be. 
* * * 
Manfred sits on a stool out in the car park at the Brouwerij 't IJ, watching the articulated 
buses go by and drinking a third of a liter of lip-curlingly sour gueuze. His channels are 
jabbering away in a corner of his head-up display, throwing compressed infobursts of 
filtered press releases at him. They compete for his attention, bickering and rudely 
waving in front of the scenery. A couple of punks - maybe local, but more likely drifters 
lured to Amsterdam by the magnetic field of tolerance the Dutch beam across Europe like 
a pulsar - are laughing and chatting by a couple of battered mopeds in the far corner. A 
tourist boat putters by in the canal; the sails of the huge windmill overhead cast long, cool 
shadows across the road. The windmill is a machine for lifting water, turning wind power 
into dry land: trading energy for space, sixteenth-century style. Manfred is waiting for    
    
		
	
	
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