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sonstiger Text ab 12 J. Leseprobe GB Almost everybody called her Eve.

At first glance, you might've missed her. She wouldn't have minded much. Hunched on the shoulder of a metal giant, she was just a silhouette amid the hiss and hum and halos of glittering sparks. She was tall, a little gangly, boots too big and cargos too tight. Sun-bleached blond hair was undercut into an impressive fauxhawk. Her sharp cheekbones were smudged with grease, illuminated by the cutting torch in her hands. She was seventeen years old, but she looked older still. Just like everything around her.

A black metal sphere sat in the socket where her right eye should've been. Six silicon chips were plugged behind her right ear, and a long oval of artificial flesh ran from her temple to the base of her skull. The implant obviously wasn't made for her--the skin tone was a little too pale to match her complexion.

It was just about the right shape for a nasty exit wound.

"Testing, testing . . . y'all hear me out there?"

The girl almost everyone called Eve clamped a screwdriver between her teeth, glanced at the monitors across from her work pit. A high-def image showed the arena above her head, three hundred meters wide, littered with scorched barricades and the rusting hulks of previous competitors. The EmCee stood in the spotlight, wearing a sequined jacket and a matching bowler hat. There was no need for a mic. Her voice fed directly to the PA via implants in her teeth.

"Juves and juvettes!" she cried. "Scenekillers and wageslaves, welcome . . . to WarDome!"

The crowd roared. Thousands of them clinging like limpets to the Dome's bars, humming, thrumming, feet all a-drumming. Most were the worse for stims or a bellyful of home brew, drunker still at the thought of the carnage to come. Their vibrations sank into Eve's bones, and she couldn't help but smile. Tasting her fear and swallowing it whole.

"Showtime," she whispered.

"In the blue zone," cried the EmCee, "the condemned! A fritzer, fresh from the border of the Glass, with the murder of seventy-two accredited citizens on its head. Brought here tonight for a taste of oldskool justice! All y'all give this fug a warm and fuzzy Dregs welcome. Some volume, if Rezension GB "Kristoff's vivid world of grit, metal, and technology evokes all the senses, and his character' every emotion. This is a breathless, action-packed exploration of what humanity really means." - Marie Lu, #1 NYT Bestselling Author of The Young Elites

"I'd like to live in the vivid and raw world of LIFEL1K3 , if only I wasn't certain it would kill me." -Beth Revis, bestselling author of Star Wars: Rebel Rising and the Across the Universe trilogy

"Put this grimy, beautiful, devastating, hilarious, screaming, writhing, all-out post-apocalyptic girl-buddy-road-warrior-lost princess-techno-thriller in your face and read it right now. It is every kind of badass." -Laini Taylor, bestselling author of Strange the Dreamer and the Daughter of Smoke & Bone trilogy

"Make LIFEL1K3 your next favorite book. Trust me." -Kiersten White, New York Times bestselling author of And I Darken

"A fast-paced adventure full of energy and verve that will leave readers breathless." -School Library Journal

"A solid, fast-paced adventure."-Publishers Weekly

"[An] action-packed thriller. . . . It's the print love child of movies Mad Max and Tank Girl." -Booklist

"Inventive and unexpected."-Kirkus Reviews Klappentext GB From the coauthor of the New York Times bestselling Illuminae Files comes the first book in a new series that's part Romeo and Juliet, part Bladerunner 2049, and all adrenaline.

On an island junkyard beneath a sky that glows with radiation, a deadly secret lies buried in the scrap. Seventeen-year-old Eve isn't looking for trouble--she's too busy looking over her shoulder. The robot gladiator she spent months building has been reduced to a smoking wreck, she's on the local gangster's wanted list, and the only thing keeping her grandpa alive is the money she just lost to the bookies. Worst of all, she can somehow destroy machines with the power of her mind, and a bunch of puritanical fanatics are building a coffin her size because of it. If she's ever had a worse day, Eve can't remember it. The problem is, Eve has had a worse day--one that lingers in her nightmares and the cybernetic implant where her memories used to be. Her discovery of a handsome android named Ezekiel--called a "Lifelike" because they resemble humans--will bring her world crashing down and make her question whether her entire life is a lie. With her best friend Lemon Fresh and her robotic sidekick Cricket in tow, Eve will trek across deserts of glass, battle unkillable bots, and infiltrate towering megacities to save the ones she loves...and learn the truth about the bloody secrets of her past. Autorentext: §16§From the coauthor of the New York Times bestselling Illuminae Files comes the first book in a new series that's part Romeo and Juliet, part Bladerunner 2049, and all adrenaline.

On an island junkyard beneath a sky that glows with radiation, a deadly secret lies buried in the scrap. Seventeen-year-old Eve isn't looking for trouble--she's too busy looking over her shoulder. The robot gladiator she spent months building has been reduced to a smoking wreck, she's on the local gangster's wanted list, and the only thing keeping her grandpa alive is the money she just lost to the bookies. Worst of all, she can somehow destroy machines with the power of her mind, and a bunch of puritanical fanatics are building a coffin her size because of it. If she's ever had a worse day, Eve can't remember it. The problem is, Eve has had a worse day--one that lingers in her nightmares and the cybernetic implant where her memories used to be. Her discovery of a handsome android named Ezekiel--called a "Lifelike" because they resemble humans--will bring her world crashing down and make her question whether her entire life is a lie. With her best friend Lemon Fresh and her robotic sidekick Cricket in tow, Eve will trek across deserts of glass, battle unkillable bots, and infiltrate towering megacities to save the ones she loves...and learn the truth about the bloody secrets of her past.§13§"Kristoff's vivid world of grit, metal, and technology evokes all the senses, and his character' every emotion. This is a breathless, action-packed exploration of what humanity really means." - Marie Lu, #1 NYT Bestselling Author of The Young Elites

"I'd like to live in the vivid and raw world of LIFEL1K3 , if only I wasn't certain it would kill me." -Beth Revis, bestselling author of Star Wars: Rebel Rising and the Across the Universe trilogy

"Put this grimy, beautiful, devastating, hilarious, screaming, writhing, all-out post-apocalyptic girl-buddy-road-warrior-lost princess-techno-thriller in your face and read it right now. It is every kind of badass." -Laini Taylor, bestselling author of Strange the Dreamer and the Daughter of Smoke & Bone trilogy

"Make LIFEL1K3 your next favorite book. Trust me." -Kiersten White, New York Times bestselling author of And I Darken

"A fast-paced adventure full of energy and verve that will leave readers breathless." -School Library Journal

"A solid, fast-paced adventure."-Publishers Weekly

"[An] action-packed thriller. . . . It's the print love child of movies Mad Max and Tank Girl." -Booklist

"Inventive and unexpected."-Kirkus Reviews§10§Almost everybody called her Eve.

At first glance, you might've missed her. She wouldn't have minded much. Hunched on the shoulder of a metal giant, she was just a silhouette amid the hiss and hum and halos of glittering sparks. She was tall, a little gangly, boots too big and cargos too tight. Sun-bleached blond hair was undercut into an impressive fauxhawk. Her sharp cheekbones were smudged with grease, illuminated by the cutting torch in her hands. She was seventeen years old, but she looked older still. Just like everything around her.

A black metal sphere sat in the socket where her right eye should've been. Six silicon chips were plugged behind her right ear, and a long oval of artificial flesh ran from her temple to the base of her skull. The implant obviously wasn't made for her--the skin tone was a little too pale to match her complexion.

It was just about the right shape for a nasty exit wound.

"Testing, testing . . . y'all hear me out there?"

The girl almost everyone called Eve clamped a screwdriver between her teeth, glanced at the monitors across from her work pit. A high-def image showed the arena above her head, three hundred meters wide, littered with scorched barricades and the rusting hulks of previous competitors. The EmCee stood in the spotlight, wearing a sequined jacket and a matching bowler hat. There was no need for a mic. Her voice fed directly to the PA via implants in her teeth.

"Juves and juvettes!" she cried. "Scenekillers and wageslaves, welcome . . . to WarDome!"

The crowd roared. Thousands of them clinging like limpets to the Dome's bars, humming, thrumming, feet all a-drumming. Most were the worse for stims or a bellyful of home brew, drunker still at the thought of the carnage to come. Their vibrations sank into Eve's bones, and she couldn't help but smile. Tasting her fear and swallowing it whole.

"Showtime," she whispered.

"In the blue zone," cried the EmCee, "the condemned! A fritzer, fresh from the border of the Glass, with the murder of seventy-two accredited citizens on its head. Brought here tonight for a taste of oldskool justice! All y'all give this fug a warm and fuzzy Dregs welcome. Some volume, if