Pg 99 Test: Hyperion

For the past month, my boyfriend has shoved Hyperion in front of my face trying to get me to read it. It's not that I don't like scifi, but I got plenty of other books to read. But I've given in. About 60 pages in, and it's quite good. And he's already pushed the sequel into my hands.

Let's take a look at Hyperion, page 99:

see him." Hoyt struggled upright and clawed at his own cheeks. His eyes were wide, the ultramorph obviously forgetten despite the pain. "About three kilometers into the flame forest... big tesla... eighty, a hundred meters tall, at least. Quiet then, but still a lot... a lot of charge in the air. Ash everywhere.
"The Bikura wouldn't... wouldn't go too close. Just knelt their goddamened bald heads bowed. But I... went close... had to. Dear God... Oh, Christ, it was him. Dure. What was left of him.
"He'd used a ladder to get three... maybe four meters... up on the bole of the tree. Built a sort of platform. For his feet. Broken the arrestor rods off... little more than spikes... then sharpened them. Must've used a rock to drive the long one through his feet into the bestos platform and tree.
"His left arm... he's pounded the stake between the radius and ulna... missed veins... just like the goddamned Romans. Very secure as long as his skeleton was intact. Other hand... right right hand... palm down. He'd driven the spike first. Sharpened both ends. Then... impaled his right hand. Somehow bent the spike over. Hook.
"Ladder'd fallen... long ago... but it was bestos. Hadn't burned. Used it to climb up to him. Everything'd burned away years ago.. clothes, skin, top layers of flesh... but the bestos pouch was still around his neck.
"The alloy still conducted current even when... I could see it... feel it... surging through what was left of the body.
"It still looked like Paul Dure. Important. I told Monsignor. No skin. Flesh raw or boiled away. Nerves and things visible... like gray and yellow roots. Christ, the smell. But it still looked like Paul Dure!
"I understood then. Understood it all. Somehow... even before reading the journals. Understood he'd been hanging there... oh, dear God.. seven years. Living. Dying. The Cruciform... forcing him to live again. Electricity... surging through him every second of those... those seven years. Flames. Hunger. Pain. Death. But somehow the godamned... cruciform... leeching substances from the tree maybe, the air, what was left... rebuilding

And that's all. You want more? Read the book! I'm glad the page stopped where it did, it was giving away information I don't want to know just yet. So what do you think about Hyperion? Go, ahead, judge by it's page 99!