Alastair
Alastair Reynolds: An exclusive short story for New Scientist
It was a foggy December, colder than usual. An old woman waded through the shallows of a concrete-bound river. She wore overalls and a breather mask, a meshwork hopper slung over her back. She leaned hard on two sticks, one with a grabber on the end, the other a net. At intervals, she scooped some…