Cory Doctorow’s short stories and novels grab you very early on, and you just kinda don’t want to put them down until they’re finished. He gives you just enough of a glimpse of his worlds to sear images of them into your brain forever — leaving you ready and waiting for the next voyage to begin.
Here’s an excerpt if you want to check it out first before purchasing the novel at 30% off:
Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom
So what do you say? You can save 30%, you won’t be disappointed, and you can help Cory get a bigger contract for his next novel!

Here is the full text of the excerpt in case the link goes bad:
http://www.infinitematrix.net/stories/excerpts/down_and_out1.html
The Infinite Matrix
an excerpt from
down and out in
the magic kingdom
by Cory Doctorow
illustration
The Liberty Square ad-hocs were the staunchest conservatives in the Magic Kingdom, preserving the wheezing technology in the face of a Park that changed almost daily. The newcomer/old-timers were on-side with the rest of the Park, had their support, and looked like they might make a successful go of it.
It fell to my girlfriend Lil to make sure that there were no bugs in the meager attractions of Liberty Square: the Hall of the Presidents, the Liberty Belle riverboat, and the glorious Haunted Mansion, arguably the coolest attraction to come from the fevered minds of the old-time Disney Imagineers.
Lil was second-generation Disney World, her parents being among the original ad-hocracy that took over the management of Liberty Square and Tom Sawyer Island. She was, quite literally, raised in Walt Disney World and it showed. She was neat and efficient in her every little thing, from her shining red hair to her careful accounting of each gear and cog in the animatronics that are in her charge. Her folks were in canopic jars in Kissimmee, deadheading for a few centuries.
I caught her backstage at the Hall of the Presidents, tinkering with Lincoln II, the backup animatronic. Lil tried to keep two of everything running at speed, just in case. She could swap out a dead ‘bot for a backup in five minutes flat, which is all that crowd-control would permit.
It had been two weeks since Dan’s arrival, and though I’d barely seen him in that time, his presence was vivid in our lives. Our little ranch-house had a new smell, not unpleasant, of rejuve and hope and loss, something barely noticeable over the tropical flowers nodding in front of our porch. My phone rang three or four times a day, Dan checking in from his rounds of the Park, seeking out some way to accumulate personal capital. His excitement and dedication to the task were inspiring, pulling me into his over-the-top-and-damn-the-torpedoes mode of being.
“You just missed Dan,” she said. She had her head in Lincoln’s chest, working with an autosolder and a magnifier. Bent over, red hair tied back in a neat bun, sweat sheening her wiry freckled arms, smelling of girl-sweat and machine lubricant, she made me wish there were a mattress somewhere backstage. I settled for patting her behind affectionately, and she wriggled appreciatively. “He’s looking better.”
His rejuve had taken him back to apparent 25, the way I remembered him. He was rawboned and leathery, but still had the defeated stoop that had startled me when I saw him at the Adventurer’s Club. “What did he want?”
“He’s been hanging out with Debra