Disclaimer: the opinions expressed in this acceptance speech are not necessarily those of the reader. Due to an unfortunate photograph, I have—quote, volunteered, end quote—to deliver this...uh...thing.

Let’s start off by saying that since we’re not even here to deliver this speech we can make it as long as we want. Bwahahahahaha! On the other hand there’s really nothing forcing you to listen so we’ll just have to keep it short.

When we started our writing career we never dreamt of winning the Prometheus Award (then again we didn’t know what the Prometheus Award was). In fact the only thing we did dream about was making enough money to buy a shiny sports car and more hair. And then when we did think about awards, we inevitably thought about the ones we assumed we’d need...in order to buy the shiny car...and more hair.

But here’s the thing:

Of all the awards in Science Fiction we thought we’d need, The Prometheus Award, above all others, became the one we truly wanted.

Here’s why:

• First, the honkin’ gold coin is frakkin’ awesome.
• Second, liberty must be championed and valued — of the myriad awards out there, only the Prometheus recognizes this essential fact.
• Third, the authors we respect the most have all won it.
• And finally, the honkin’ gold coin is frakkin’ awesome.

Which brings us to the novel itself. The Unincorporated Man attempts to deal with a fundamental issue: What price freedom? We often liken the loss of liberty to the secret of boiling a frog. You don’t just drop him into the boiling water—he’ll jump right out. Instead, what you do is put him in cold water and slowly raise the flame. By the time he realizes he’s in trouble it’s pretty much game over. So, too, the society we envisioned in our novel and perhaps even our own.

We love the fact that some people really...really hate this book. We’d rather the message be hated than ignored; rather the arguments be debated than dismissed. But as much as we enjoy the rage of flamers, we’re certainly not immune to the siren song of praise. So thank you, Prometheus committee—for finding our first novel worthy of your recognition.

We’d also like to thank our fellow nominees, Orson Scott Card, Cory Doctorow, Harry Turtledove and of course, Harry Turtledove—all of whose works have inspired us over the years.

We can no longer thank in person but would like to acknowledge in spirit our mom, who so would’ve loved this. We’d also like to thank our dad, who supports almost none of our ideals but somehow finds a way to support all of our endeavors. (And yes, Patrick, you’d better say the next part out loud or we release the picture.) We wub you daddy waddy.

We’d like everyone to know that the day David Hartwell called Dani to tell him that he and Eytan had just scored a three-book deal, Dani still had to walk the dog...that his kids promised to walk, do the laundry, and break up a booger fight. So thank you Eliana, Yoni and Gavi for continuing to keep your dad reasonably humble and more important—keep him guessing.

We’d also like to stop talking so that Dani can thank his wife.

Deborah—thank you for your patience and support over the many years it took get this book done. Dealing with one Kollin brother should’ve been enough — having to deal with two, well there ought to be an award.

Next we’d like to thank our patron, Tom Doherty, our editor David Hartwell and everyone else at Tor whose hard work on our behalf has made this moment possible.

And oh yeah — Patrick Nielson Hayden for being such a good sport and reading our acceptance speech...and for being an all around amazing human being—the sum perfection of humanity. Why they don’t pay him tons more money, double his expense account and triple his vacation time is beyond us (no, I’m not just making this up...it’s what’s written here—PATRICK, POINT AT PAPER—...no, really...it is).

PATRICK, WALK OFF STAGE NOW SO PEOPLE KNOW THE SPEECH IS OVER.

AND DON’T FORGET THE GOLD.