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Who is Hal and what is his role in the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Time In the Round by Fritz Leiber.
Relevant chunks:
TIME IN THE ROUND
By FRITZ LEIBER
Illustrated by DILLON
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction May 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Poor Butcher suffered more than any dictator in history: everybody gave in to him because he was so puny and they were so impregnable!
From the other end of the Avenue of Wisdom that led across the Peace Park, a gray, hairless, heavily built dog was barking soundlessly at the towering crystal glory of the Time Theater. For a moment, the effect was almost frightening: a silent picture of the beginning of civilization challenging the end of it. Then a small boy caught up with the dog and it rolled over enthusiastically at his feet and the scene was normal again.
The small boy, however, seemed definitely pre-civilization. He studied the dog coldly and then inserted a thin metal tube under its eyelid and poked. The dog wagged its stumpy tail. The boy frowned, tightened his grip on the tube and jabbed hard. The dog's tail thumped the cushiony pavement and the four paws beat the air. The boy shortened his grip and suddenly jabbed the dog several times in the stomach. The stiff tube rebounded from the gray, hairless hide. The dog's face split in an upside-down grin, revealing formidable ivory fangs across which a long black tongue lolled.
The boy regarded the tongue speculatively and pocketed the metal tube with a grimace of utter disgust. He did not look up when someone called: "Hi, Butch! Sic 'em, Darter, sic 'em!"
A larger small boy and a somewhat older one were approaching across the luxurious, neatly cropped grass, preceded by a hurtling shape that, except for a black hide, was a replica of Butch's gray dog.
Butch shrugged his shoulders resignedly and said in a bored voice:
"Kill 'em, Brute."
The gray dog hurled itself on Darter. Jaws gaped to get a hold on necks so short and thick as to be mere courtesy terms. They whirled like a fanged merry-go-round. Three more dogs, one white, one slate blue and one pink, hurried up and tried to climb aboard.
Butch yawned.
"What's the matter?" inquired Darter's master. "I thought you liked dog fights, Butch."
"I do like dog fights," Butch said somberly, without looking around. "I don't like uninj fights. They're just a pretend, like everything else. Nobody gets hurt. And look here, Joggy—and you, too, Hal—when you talk to me, don't just say Butch. It's the Butcher, see?"
"That's not exactly a functional name," Hal observed with the judiciousness of budding maturity, while Joggy said agreeably: "All right, Butcher, I suppose you'd like to have lived way back when people were hurting each other all the time so the blood came out?"
"I certainly would," the Butcher replied. As Joggy and Hal turned back skeptically to watch the fight, he took out the metal tube, screwed up his face in a dreadful frown and jabbed himself in the hand. He squeaked with pain and whisked the tube out of sight.
"A kid can't do anything any more," he announced dramatically. "Can't break anything except the breakables they give him to break on purpose. Can't get dirty except in the dirt-pen—and they graduate him from that when he's two. Can't even be bitten by an uninj—it's contraprogrammed."
"Where'd you ever get so fixated on dirt?" Hal asked in a gentle voice acquired from a robot adolescer.
"I've been reading a book about a kid called Huckleberry Finn," the Butcher replied airily. "A swell book. That guy got dirtier than anything." His eyes became dreamy. "He even ate out of a garbage pail."
"What's a garbage pail?"
"I don't know, but it sounds great."
The battling uninjes careened into them. Brute had Darter by the ear and was whirling him around hilariously.
"Aw, quit it, Brute," the Butcher said in annoyance.
Brute obediently loosed his hold and returned to his master, paying no attention to his adversary's efforts to renew the fight.
The Butcher looked Brute squarely in the eyes. "You're making too much of a rumpus," he said. "I want to think."
He kicked Brute in the face. The dog squirmed joyously at his feet.
"Look," Joggy said, "you wouldn't hurt an uninj, for instance, would you?"
"How can you hurt something that's uninjurable?" the Butcher demanded scathingly. "An uninj isn't really a dog. It's just a lot of circuits and a micropack bedded in hyperplastic." He looked at Brute with guarded wistfulness.
"I don't know about that," Hal put in. "I've heard an uninj is programmed with so many genuine canine reactions that it practically has racial memory."
"I mean if you could hurt an uninj," Joggy amended.
"Well, maybe I wouldn't," the Butcher admitted grudgingly. "But shut up—I want to think."
"About what?" Hal asked with saintly reasonableness.
The Butcher achieved a fearful frown. "When I'm World Director," he said slowly, "I'm going to have warfare again."
"You think so now," Hal told him. "We all do at your age."
"We do not," the Butcher retorted. "I bet you didn't."
"Oh, yes, I was foolish, too," the older boy confessed readily. "All newborn organisms are self-centered and inconsiderate and ruthless. They have to be. That's why we have uninjes to work out on, and death games and fear houses, so that our emotions are cleared for adult conditioning. And it's just the same with newborn civilizations. Why, long after atom power and the space drive were discovered, people kept having wars and revolutions. It took ages to condition them differently. Of course, you can't appreciate it this year, but Man's greatest achievement was when he learned to automatically reject all violent solutions to problems. You'll realize that when you're older."
"I will not!" the Butcher countered hotly. "I'm not going to be a sissy." Hal and Joggy blinked at the unfamiliar word. "And what if we were attacked by bloodthirsty monsters from outside the Solar System?"
"The Space Fleet would take care of them," Hal replied calmly. "That's what it's for. Adults aren't conditioned to reject violent solutions to problems where non-human enemies are concerned. Look at what we did to viruses."
"But what if somebody got at us through the Time Bubble?"
"They can't. It's impossible."
"Yes, but suppose they did all the same."
"You've never been inside the Time Theater—you're not old enough yet—so you just can't know anything about it or about the reasons why it's impossible," Hal replied with friendly factuality. "The Time Bubble is just a viewer. You can only look through it, and just into the past, at that. But you can't travel through it because you can't change the past. Time traveling is a lot of kid stuff."
"I don't care," the Butcher asserted obstinately. "I'm still going to have warfare when I'm World Director."
"They'll condition you out of the idea," Hal assured him.
"They will not. I won't let 'em."
"It doesn't matter what you think now," Hal said with finality. "You'll have an altogether different opinion when you're six."
"Well, what if I will?" the Butcher snapped back. "You don't have to keep telling me about it, do you?"
The others were silent. Joggy began to bounce up and down abstractedly on the resilient pavement. Hal called in his three uninjes and said in soothing tones: "Joggy and I are going to swim over to the Time Theater. Want to walk us there, Butch?"
Butch scowled.
"How about it, Butch?"
Still Butch did not seem to hear.
The older boy shrugged and said: "Oh, well, how about it—Butcher?"
The Butcher swung around. "They won't let me in the Time Theater. You said so yourself."
"You could walk us over there."
"Well, maybe I will and maybe I won't."
"While you're deciding, we'll get swimming. Come along, Joggy."
Still scowling, the Butcher took a white soapy crayon from the bulging pocket in his silver shorts. Pressed into the pavement, it made a black mark. He scrawled pensively: KEEP ON THE GRASS.
He gazed at his handiwork. No, darn it, that was just what grownups wanted you to do. This grass couldn't be hurt. You couldn't pull it up or tear it off; it hurt your fingers to try. A rub with the side of the crayon removed the sign. He thought for a moment, then wrote: KEEP OFF THE GRASS.
With an untroubled countenance, he sprang up and hurried after the others.
Joggy and the older boy were swimming lazily through the air at shoulder height. In the pavement directly under each of them was a wide, saucer-shaped depression which swam along with them. The uninjes avoided the depressions. Darter was strutting on his hind legs, looking up inquiringly at his master.
"Gimme a ride, Hal, gimme a ride!" the Butcher called. The older boy ignored him. "Aw, gimme a ride, Joggy."
"Oh, all right." Joggy touched the small box attached to the front of his broad metal harness and dropped lightly to the ground. The Butcher climbed on his back. There was a moment of rocking and pitching, during which each boy accused the other of trying to upset them.
Then the Butcher got his balance and they began to swim along securely, though at a level several inches lower. Brute sprang up after his master and was invisibly rebuffed. He retired baffled, but a few minutes later, he was amusing himself by furious futile efforts to climb the hemispherical repulsor field.
Slowly the little cavalcade of boys and uninjes proceeded down the Avenue of Wisdom. Hal amused himself by stroking toward a tree. When he was about four feet from it, he was gently bounced away.
It was really a more tiring method of transportation than walking and quite useless against the wind. True, by rocking the repulsor hemisphere backward, you could get a brief forward push, but it would be nullified when you rocked forward. A slow swimming stroke was the simplest way to make progress.
The general sensation, however, was delightful and levitators were among the most prized of toys.
"There's the Theater," Joggy announced.
"I know ," the Butcher said irritably.
But even he sounded a little solemn and subdued. From the Great Ramp to the topmost airy finial, the Time Theater was the dream of a god realized in unearthly substance. It imparted the aura of demigods to the adults drifting up and down the ramp.
"My father remembers when there wasn't a Time Theater," Hal said softly as he scanned the facade's glowing charts and maps. "Say, they're viewing Earth, somewhere in Scandinavia around zero in the B.C.-A.D. time scale. It should be interesting."
"Will it be about Napoleon?" the Butcher asked eagerly. "Or Hitler?" A red-headed adult heard and smiled and paused to watch. A lock of hair had fallen down the middle of the Butcher's forehead, and as he sat Joggy like a charger, he did bear a faint resemblance to one of the grim little egomaniacs of the Dawn Era.
"Wrong millennium," Hal said.
"Tamerlane then?" the Butcher pressed. "He killed cities and piled the skulls. Blood-bath stuff. Oh, yes, and Tamerlane was a Scand of the Navies."
Hal looked puzzled and then quickly erased the expression. "Well, even if it is about Tamerlane, you can't see it. How about it, Joggy?"
"They won't let me in, either."
"Yes, they will. You're five years old now."
"But I don't feel any older," Joggy replied doubtfully.
"The feeling comes at six. Don't worry, the usher will notice the difference."
Hal and Joggy switched off their levitators and dropped to their feet. The Butcher came down rather hard, twisting an ankle. He opened his mouth to cry, then abruptly closed it hard, bearing his pain in tight-lipped silence like an ancient soldier—like Stalin, maybe, he thought. The red-headed adult's face twitched in half-humorous sympathy.
Hal and Joggy mounted the Ramp and entered a twilit corridor which drank their faint footsteps and returned pulses of light. The Butcher limped manfully after them, but when he got inside, he forgot his battle injury.
Hal looked back. "Honestly, the usher will stop you."
The Butcher shook his head. "I'm going to think my way in. I'm going to think old."
"You won't be able to fool the usher, Butcher. You under-fives simply aren't allowed in the Time Theater. There's a good reason for it—something dangerous might happen if an under-five got inside."
"Why?"
"I don't exactly know, but something."
"Hah! I bet they're scared we'd go traveling in the Time Bubble and have some excitement."
"They are not. I guess they just know you'd get bored and wander away from your seats and maybe disturb the adults or upset the electronics or something. But don't worry about it, Butcher. The usher will take care of you."
"Shut up—I'm thinking I'm World Director," the Butcher informed them, contorting his face diabolically.
Hal spoke to the uninjes, pointing to the side of the corridor. Obediently four of them lined up.
But Brute was peering down the corridor toward where it merged into a deeper darkness. His short legs stiffened, his neckless head seemed to retreat even further between his powerful shoulders, his lips writhed back to show his gleaming fangs, and a completely unfamiliar sound issued from his throat. A choked, grating sound. A growl. The other uninjes moved uneasily.
"Do you suppose something's the matter with his circuits?" Joggy whispered. "Maybe he's getting racial memories from the Scands."
"Of course not," Hal said irritably.
"Brute, get over there," the Butcher commanded. Unwillingly, eyes still fixed on the blackness ahead, Brute obeyed.
The three boys started on. Hal and Joggy experienced a vaguely electrical tingling that vanished almost immediately. They looked back. The Butcher had been stopped by an invisible wall.
"I told you you couldn't fool the usher," Hal said.
The Butcher hurled himself forward. The wall gave a little, then bounced him back with equal force.
"I bet it'll be a bum time view anyway," the Butcher said, not giving up, but not trying again. "And I still don't think the usher can tell how old you are. I bet there's an over-age teacher spying on you through a hole, and if he doesn't like your looks, he switches on the usher."
But the others had disappeared in the blackness. The Butcher waited and then sat down beside the uninjes. Brute laid his head on his knee and growled faintly down the corridor.
"Take it easy, Brute," the Butcher consoled him. "I don't think Tamerlane was really a Scand of the Navies anyhow."
Two chattering girls hardly bigger than himself stepped through the usher as if it weren't there.
The Butcher grimly slipped out the metal tube and put it to his lips. There were two closely spaced faint plops and a large green stain appeared on the bare back of one girl, while purple fluid dripped from the close-cropped hair of the other.
They glared at him and one of them said: "A cub!" But he had his arms folded and wasn't looking at them.
Meanwhile, subordinate ushers had guided Hal and Joggy away from the main entrance to the Time Theater. A sphincter dilated and they found themselves in a small transparent cubicle from which they could watch the show without disturbing the adult audience. They unstrapped their levitators, laid them on the floor and sat down.
The darkened auditorium was circular. Rising from a low central platform was a huge bubble of light, its lower surface somewhat flattened. The audience was seated in concentric rows around the bubble, their keen and compassionate faces dimly revealed by the pale central glow.
But it was the scene within the bubble that riveted the attention of the boys.
Great brooding trees, the trunks of the nearer ones sliced by the bubble's surface, formed the background. Through the dark, wet foliage appeared glimpses of a murky sky, while from the ceiling of the bubble, a ceaseless rain dripped mournfully. A hooded figure crouched beside a little fire partly shielded by a gnarled trunk. Squatting round about were wiry, blue-eyed men with shoulder-length blond hair and full blond beards. They were clothed in furs and metal-studded leather.
Here and there were scattered weapons and armor—long swords glistening with oil to guard them from rust, crudely painted circular shields, and helmets from which curved the horns of beasts. Back and forth, lean, wolflike dogs paced with restless monotony.
Sometimes the men seemed to speak together, or one would rise to peer down the misty forest vistas, but mostly they were motionless. Only the hooded figure, which they seemed to regard with a mingled wonder and fear, swayed incessantly to the rhythm of some unheard chant.
"The Time Bubble has been brought to rest in one of the barbaric cultures of the Dawn Era," a soft voice explained, so casually that Joggy looked around for the speaker, until Hal nudged him sharply, whispering with barely perceptible embarrassment: "Don't do that, Joggy. It's just the electronic interpreter. It senses our development and hears our questions and then it automats background and answers. But it's no more alive than an adolescer or a kinderobot. Got a billion microtapes, though."
The interpreter continued: "The skin-clad men we are viewing in Time in the Round seem to be a group of warriors of the sort who lived by pillage and rapine. The hooded figure is a most unusual find. We believe it to be that of a sorcerer who pretended to control the forces of nature and see into the future."
Joggy whispered: "How is it that we can't see the audience through the other side of the bubble? We can see through this side, all right."
"The bubble only shines light out," Hal told him hurriedly, to show he knew some things as well as the interpreter. "Nothing, not even light, can get into the bubble from outside. The audience on the other side of the bubble sees into it just as we do, only they're seeing the other way—for instance, they can't see the fire because the tree is in the way. And instead of seeing us beyond, they see more trees and sky."
Joggy nodded. "You mean that whatever way you look at the bubble, it's a kind of hole through time?"
"That's right." Hal cleared his throat and recited: "The bubble is the locus of an infinite number of one-way holes, all centering around two points in space-time, one now and one then. The bubble looks completely open, but if you tried to step inside, you'd be stopped—and so would an atom beam. It takes more energy than an atom beam just to maintain the bubble, let alone maneuver it."
"I see, I guess," Joggy whispered. "But if the hole works for light, why can't the people inside the bubble step out of it into our world?"
"Why—er—you see, Joggy—"
The interpreter took over. "The holes are one-way for light, but no-way for matter. If one of the individuals inside the bubble walked toward you, he would cross-section and disappear. But to the audience on the opposite side of the bubble, it would be obvious that he had walked away along the vista down which they are peering."
As if to provide an example, a figure suddenly materialized on their side of the bubble. The wolflike dogs bared their fangs. For an instant, there was only an eerie, distorted, rapidly growing silhouette, changing from blood-red to black as the boundary of the bubble cross-sectioned the intruding figure. Then they recognized the back of another long-haired warrior and realized that the audience on the other side of the bubble had probably seen him approaching for some time.
He bowed to the hooded figure and handed him a small bag.
"More atavistic cubs, big and little! Hold still, Cynthia," a new voice cut in.
Hal turned and saw that two cold-eyed girls had been ushered into the cubicle. One was wiping her close-cropped hair with one hand while mopping a green stain from her friend's back with the other.
Hal nudged Joggy and whispered: "Butch!"
But Joggy was still hypnotized by the Time Bubble.
"Then how is it, Hal," he asked, "that light comes out of the bubble, if the people don't? What I mean is, if one of the people walks toward us, he shrinks to a red blot and disappears. Why doesn't the light coming our way disappear, too?"
"Well—you see, Joggy, it isn't real light. It's—"
Once more the interpreter helped him out.
"The light that comes from the bubble is an isotope. Like atoms of one element, photons of a single frequency also have isotopes. It's more than a matter of polarization. One of these isotopes of light tends to leak futureward through holes in space-time. Most of the light goes down the vistas visible to the other side of the audience. But one isotope is diverted through the walls of the bubble into the Time Theater. Perhaps, because of the intense darkness of the theater, you haven't realized how dimly lit the scene is. That's because we're getting only a single isotope of the original light. Incidentally, no isotopes have been discovered that leak pastward, though attempts are being made to synthesize them."
"Oh, explanations!" murmured one of the newly arrived girls. "The cubs are always angling for them. Apple-polishers!"
" I like this show," a familiar voice announced serenely. "They cut anybody yet with those choppers?"
Hal looked down beside him. "Butch! How did you manage to get in?"
"I don't see any blood. Where's the bodies?"
"But how did you get in—Butcher?"
The Butcher replied airily: "A red-headed man talked to me and said it certainly was sad for a future dictator not to be able to enjoy scenes of carnage in his youth, so I told him I'd been inside the Time Theater and just come out to get a drink of water and go to the eliminator, but then my sprained ankle had got worse—I kind of tried to get up and fell down again—so he picked me up and carried me right through the usher."
"Butcher, that wasn't honest," Hal said a little worriedly. "You tricked him into thinking you were older and his brain waves blanketed yours, going through the usher. I really have heard it's dangerous for you under-fives to be in here."
"The way those cubs beg for babying and get it!" one of the girls commented. "Talk about sex favoritism!" She and her companion withdrew to the far end of the cubicle.
The Butcher grinned at them briefly and concentrated his attention on the scene in the Time Bubble.
"Those big dogs—" he began suddenly. "Brute must have smelled 'em."
"Don't be silly," Hal said. "Smells can't come out of the Time Bubble. Smells haven't any isotopes and—"
"I don't care," the Butcher asserted. "I bet somebody'll figure out someday how to use the bubble for time traveling."
"You can't travel in a point of view," Hal contradicted, "and that's all the bubble is. Besides, some scientists think the bubble isn't real at all, but a—uh—"
"I believe," the interpreter cut in smoothly, "that you're thinking of the theory that the Time Bubble operates by hypermemory. Some scientists would have us believe that all memory is time traveling and that the basic location of the bubble is not space-time at all, but ever-present eternity. Some of them go so far as to state that it is only a mental inability that prevents the Time Bubble from being used for time traveling—just as it may be a similar disability that keeps a robot with the same or even more scopeful memories from being a real man or animal.
"It is because of this minority theory that under-age individuals and other beings with impulsive mentalities are barred from the Time Theater. But do not be alarmed. Even if the minority theory should prove true—and no evidence for it has ever appeared—there are automatically operating safeguards to protect the audience from any harmful consequences of time traveling (almost certainly impossible, remember) in either direction."
"Sissies!" was the Butcher's comment.
"You're rather young to be here, aren't you?" the interpreter inquired.
The Butcher folded his arms and scowled.
The interpreter hesitated almost humanly, probably snatching through a quarter-million microtapes. "Well, you wouldn't have got in unless a qualified adult had certified you as plus-age. Enjoy yourself."
There was no need for the last injunction. The scene within the bubble had acquired a gripping interest. The shaggy warriors were taking up their swords, gathering about the hooded sorcerer. The hood fell back, revealing a face with hawklike, disturbing eyes that seemed to be looking straight out of the bubble at the future.
"This is getting good," the Butcher said, squirming toward the edge of his seat.
"Stop being an impulsive mentality," Hal warned him a little nervously.
"Hah!"
The sorcerer emptied the small bag on the fire and a thick cloud of smoke puffed toward the ceiling of the bubble. A clawlike hand waved wildly. The sorcerer appeared to be expostulating, commanding. The warriors stared uncomprehendingly, which seemed to exasperate the sorcerer.
"That's right," the Butcher approved loudly. "Sock it to 'em!"
"Butcher!" Hal admonished.
Suddenly the bubble grew very bright, as if the Sun had just shone forth in the ancient world, though the rain still dripped down.
"A viewing anomaly has occurred," the interpreter announced. "It may be necessary to collapse the Time Bubble for a short period."
In a frenzy, his ragged robes twisting like smoke, the sorcerer rushed at one of the warriors, pushing him backward so that in a moment he must cross-section.
"Attaboy!" the Butcher encouraged.
Then the warrior was standing outside the bubble, blinking toward the shadows, rain dripping from his beard and furs.
"Oh, boy !" the Butcher cheered in ecstasy.
"Butcher, you've done it!" Hal said, aghast.
"I sure did," the Butcher agreed blandly, "but that old guy in the bubble helped me. Must take two to work it."
"Keep your seats!" the interpreter said loudly. "We are energizing the safeguards!"
The warriors inside the bubble stared in stupid astonishment after the one who had disappeared from their view. The sorcerer leaped about, pushing them in his direction.
Abrupt light flooded the Time Theater. The warriors who had emerged from the bubble stiffened themselves, baring their teeth.
"The safeguards are now energized," the interpreter said.
A woman in a short golden tunic stood up uncertainly from the front row of the audience.
The first warrior looked her up and down, took one hesitant step forward, then another, then suddenly grabbed her and flung her over his left shoulder, looking around menacingly and swinging his sword in his right hand.
"I repeat, the safeguards have been fully energized! Keep your seats!" the interpreter enjoined.
In the cubicle, Hal and Joggy gasped, the two girls squeaked, but the Butcher yelled a "Hey!" of disapproval, snatched up something from the floor and darted out through the sphincter.
Here and there in the audience, other adults stood up. The emerged warriors formed a ring of swinging swords and questing eyes. Between their legs their wolfish dogs, emerged with them, crouched and snarled. Then the warriors began to fan out.
"There has been an unavoidable delay in energizing the safeguards," the interpreter said. "Please be patient."
At that moment, the Butcher entered the main auditorium, brandishing a levitator above his head and striding purposefully down the aisle. At his heels, five stocky forms trotted. In a definitely pre-civilization voice, or at least with pre-civilization volume, he bellowed: "Hey, you! You quit that!"
The first warrior looked toward him, gave his left shoulder a shake to quiet his wriggling captive, gave his right shoulder one to supple his sword arm, and waited until the dwarfish challenger came into range. Then his sword swished down in a flashing arc.
Next moment, the Butcher was on his knees and the warrior was staring at him open-mouthed. The sword had rebounded from something invisible an arm's length above the gnomelike creature's head. The warrior backed a step.
The Butcher stayed down, crouching half behind an aisle seat and digging for something in his pocket. But he didn't stay quiet. "Sic
'em, Brute!" he shrilled. "Sic 'em, Darter! Sic 'em, Pinkie and Whitie and Blue!" Then he stopped shouting and raised his hand to his mouth.
Growling quite unmechanically, the five uninjes hurled themselves forward and closed with the warrior's wolflike dogs. At the first encounter, Brute and Pinkie were grabbed by the throats, shaken, and tossed a dozen feet. The warriors snarled approval and advanced. But then Brute and Pinkie raced back eagerly to the fight—and suddenly the face of the leading warrior was drenched with scarlet. He blinked and touched his fingers to it, then looked at his hand in horror.
The Butcher spared a second to repeat his command to the uninjes. But already the battle was going against the larger dogs. The latter had the advantage of weight and could toss the smaller dogs like so many foxes. But their terrible fangs did no damage, and whenever an uninj clamped on a throat, that throat was torn out.
Meanwhile, great bloody stains had appeared on the bodies of all the warriors. They drew back in a knot, looking at each other fearfully. That was when the Butcher got to his feet and strode forward, hand clenching the levitator above his head.
"Get back where you belong, you big jerks! And drop that lady!"
The first warrior pointed toward him and hissed something. Immediately, a half dozen swords were smiting at the Butcher.
"We are working to energize the safeguards," the interpreter said in mechanical panic. "Remain patient and in your seats."
The uninjes leaped into the melee, at first tearing more fur than flesh. Swords caught them and sent them spinning through the air. They came yapping back for more. Brute fixed on the first warrior's ankle. He dropped the woman, stamped unavailingly on the uninj, and let out a screech.
Swords were still rebounding from the invisible shield under which the Butcher crouched, making terrible faces at his attackers. They drew back, looked again at their bloodstains, goggled at the demon dogs. At their leader's screech, they broke and plunged back into the Time Bubble, their leader stumbling limpingly after them. There they wasted no time on their own ragged sorcerer. Their swords rose and fell, and no repulsor field stayed them.
"Brute, come back!" the Butcher yelled.
The gray uninj let go his hold on the leader's ankle and scampered out of the Time Bubble, which swiftly dimmed to its original light intensity and then winked out.
For once in their very mature lives, all of the adults in the auditorium began to jabber at each other simultaneously.
"We are sorry, but the anomaly has made it necessary to collapse the Time Bubble," the interpreter said. "There will be no viewing until further announcement. Thank you for your patience."
Hal and Joggy caught up with the Butcher just as Brute jumped into his arms and the woman in gold picked him up and hugged him fiercely. The Butcher started to pull away, then grudgingly submitted.
"Cubs!" came a small cold voice from behind Hal and Joggy. "Always playing hero! Say, what's that awful smell, Cynthia? It must have come from those dirty past men."
Hal and Joggy were shouting at the Butcher, but he wasn't listening to them or to the older voices clamoring about "revised theories of reality" and other important things. He didn't even squirm as Brute licked his cheek and the woman in gold planted a big kiss practically on his mouth.
He smiled dreamily and stroked Brute's muzzle and murmured softly: "We came, we saw, we conquered, didn't we, Brute?"
Question:
Who is Hal and what is his role in the story?
Answer:
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"Hal is one of the three boys who drives the narrative of the story; he is the oldest of the three, with the most experience and knowledge. He acts as a mentor to the Butcher and Joggy, the other two boys. Joggy is five, so he is able to go to the Time Theater for the first time, but the Butcher is not yet old enough. Hal tells the Butcher that his violent impulses will pass given time and conditioning, and tries to dissuade him from trying to enter the TIme Theater for the sake of safety. He is the one that wants to go to the theater, and asks the Butcher to walk with him. He scolds the Butcher once he reveals how he snuck into the theater, and is worried about the potential danger. Throughout the time in the theater, it is Hal who explains how the different beings in the society fit together, and the technology (and theories) around the Time Bubble, though the electronic narrator in the viewing box at the theater also helps fill in some details. Throughout the story more broadly, Hal maintains a patient tone with the Butcher, as he tries to be very understanding about his youthful inclinations towards violence, admitting his past urges but pointing towards positive change towards a more calm mindset. ",
"Hal is Butch and Joggy’s older friend. He knows a lot more about the Time Bubble and pre-civilization than his younger friends do. Hal is reasonable, patient, and conditioned by the society he is a part of. He agrees with the rules that govern his existence and understands the key differences between pre-civilization and now. Hal is kind to Butch even when he rebels or tries to act like he knows better than everyone else. When Butch tells his friends that he will start wars when he serves as World Director, Hal responds by telling him that everyone thinks that at his age. Hal is confident in his knowledge of the world and society and does not get frustrated with Butch’s fantastical ideas. \n\nHal enjoys his trips to the Time Theater and it’s his suggestion that convinces Joggy and Butch to go see the Time Bubble. He thinks that the Scandinavian warriors sound interesting. He agrees that Butch should walk him and Joggy there, but he is certain that Butch will not be allowed into the theater. Hal is convinced that an usher will stop Butch from entering, and he believes that allowing someone under the age of five to enter the sacred hall could be dangerous. \n\nHal tries to answer all of Joggy’s questions about the Time Bubble, but the truth is he doesn’t understand a lot of the mechanisms behind the mysterious machine. He is a little bit embarrassed when the interpreter has to keep responding to Joggy throughout the show. Hal is truly alarmed when Butch shows up unexpectedly in the transparent cubicle. He thinks it is immoral and wrong to convince the usher that he is older than he truly is, and he worries that there will be severe consequences for his actions. When the Scandinavian warrior comes out of the Time Bubble and becomes violent, Hal immediately blames Butch for the glitch. He is a rule follower, and regardless of the fact that Butch saved the day, he remains upset and angry at him for breaking protocol in the first place. \n",
"Hal is an older boy in the story, and he likes to remind his younger friends of his age and wisdom. He is more mature and sees the reasoning behind a lot of the rules that frustrate Butch, but his constant refrain of telling Butch that he’ll feel differently when he’s older only serves to irritate the younger boy and make him want to act out even more. Hal tells Butch that it’s dangerous for under-fives to be in the Time Room, and he grows increasingly frustrated with and anxious about Butch’s behavior when he lies his way in and starts messing with the Time Bubble. \n",
"Hal is the oldest of the three friends, and he seems to understand the most about how the Time Theater functions and how the bubble works. Whereas Butch is impulsive, impatient, and wants to use violence to solve problems, Hal is more adjusted to the standards of the post-violence society. He offers wise counsel to Butch, who resists him at every turn, and he educates Joggy, who is more eager to absorb the lessons he imparts. Hal contrasts pre-civilization with the current world they live in and suggests that with age, Butch will also understand the necessity of removing violence from the equation when it comes to resolving conflict. "
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51380
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TIME IN THE ROUND
By FRITZ LEIBER
Illustrated by DILLON
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction May 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Poor Butcher suffered more than any dictator in history: everybody gave in to him because he was so puny and they were so impregnable!
From the other end of the Avenue of Wisdom that led across the Peace Park, a gray, hairless, heavily built dog was barking soundlessly at the towering crystal glory of the Time Theater. For a moment, the effect was almost frightening: a silent picture of the beginning of civilization challenging the end of it. Then a small boy caught up with the dog and it rolled over enthusiastically at his feet and the scene was normal again.
The small boy, however, seemed definitely pre-civilization. He studied the dog coldly and then inserted a thin metal tube under its eyelid and poked. The dog wagged its stumpy tail. The boy frowned, tightened his grip on the tube and jabbed hard. The dog's tail thumped the cushiony pavement and the four paws beat the air. The boy shortened his grip and suddenly jabbed the dog several times in the stomach. The stiff tube rebounded from the gray, hairless hide. The dog's face split in an upside-down grin, revealing formidable ivory fangs across which a long black tongue lolled.
The boy regarded the tongue speculatively and pocketed the metal tube with a grimace of utter disgust. He did not look up when someone called: "Hi, Butch! Sic 'em, Darter, sic 'em!"
A larger small boy and a somewhat older one were approaching across the luxurious, neatly cropped grass, preceded by a hurtling shape that, except for a black hide, was a replica of Butch's gray dog.
Butch shrugged his shoulders resignedly and said in a bored voice:
"Kill 'em, Brute."
The gray dog hurled itself on Darter. Jaws gaped to get a hold on necks so short and thick as to be mere courtesy terms. They whirled like a fanged merry-go-round. Three more dogs, one white, one slate blue and one pink, hurried up and tried to climb aboard.
Butch yawned.
"What's the matter?" inquired Darter's master. "I thought you liked dog fights, Butch."
"I do like dog fights," Butch said somberly, without looking around. "I don't like uninj fights. They're just a pretend, like everything else. Nobody gets hurt. And look here, Joggy—and you, too, Hal—when you talk to me, don't just say Butch. It's the Butcher, see?"
"That's not exactly a functional name," Hal observed with the judiciousness of budding maturity, while Joggy said agreeably: "All right, Butcher, I suppose you'd like to have lived way back when people were hurting each other all the time so the blood came out?"
"I certainly would," the Butcher replied. As Joggy and Hal turned back skeptically to watch the fight, he took out the metal tube, screwed up his face in a dreadful frown and jabbed himself in the hand. He squeaked with pain and whisked the tube out of sight.
"A kid can't do anything any more," he announced dramatically. "Can't break anything except the breakables they give him to break on purpose. Can't get dirty except in the dirt-pen—and they graduate him from that when he's two. Can't even be bitten by an uninj—it's contraprogrammed."
"Where'd you ever get so fixated on dirt?" Hal asked in a gentle voice acquired from a robot adolescer.
"I've been reading a book about a kid called Huckleberry Finn," the Butcher replied airily. "A swell book. That guy got dirtier than anything." His eyes became dreamy. "He even ate out of a garbage pail."
"What's a garbage pail?"
"I don't know, but it sounds great."
The battling uninjes careened into them. Brute had Darter by the ear and was whirling him around hilariously.
"Aw, quit it, Brute," the Butcher said in annoyance.
Brute obediently loosed his hold and returned to his master, paying no attention to his adversary's efforts to renew the fight.
The Butcher looked Brute squarely in the eyes. "You're making too much of a rumpus," he said. "I want to think."
He kicked Brute in the face. The dog squirmed joyously at his feet.
"Look," Joggy said, "you wouldn't hurt an uninj, for instance, would you?"
"How can you hurt something that's uninjurable?" the Butcher demanded scathingly. "An uninj isn't really a dog. It's just a lot of circuits and a micropack bedded in hyperplastic." He looked at Brute with guarded wistfulness.
"I don't know about that," Hal put in. "I've heard an uninj is programmed with so many genuine canine reactions that it practically has racial memory."
"I mean if you could hurt an uninj," Joggy amended.
"Well, maybe I wouldn't," the Butcher admitted grudgingly. "But shut up—I want to think."
"About what?" Hal asked with saintly reasonableness.
The Butcher achieved a fearful frown. "When I'm World Director," he said slowly, "I'm going to have warfare again."
"You think so now," Hal told him. "We all do at your age."
"We do not," the Butcher retorted. "I bet you didn't."
"Oh, yes, I was foolish, too," the older boy confessed readily. "All newborn organisms are self-centered and inconsiderate and ruthless. They have to be. That's why we have uninjes to work out on, and death games and fear houses, so that our emotions are cleared for adult conditioning. And it's just the same with newborn civilizations. Why, long after atom power and the space drive were discovered, people kept having wars and revolutions. It took ages to condition them differently. Of course, you can't appreciate it this year, but Man's greatest achievement was when he learned to automatically reject all violent solutions to problems. You'll realize that when you're older."
"I will not!" the Butcher countered hotly. "I'm not going to be a sissy." Hal and Joggy blinked at the unfamiliar word. "And what if we were attacked by bloodthirsty monsters from outside the Solar System?"
"The Space Fleet would take care of them," Hal replied calmly. "That's what it's for. Adults aren't conditioned to reject violent solutions to problems where non-human enemies are concerned. Look at what we did to viruses."
"But what if somebody got at us through the Time Bubble?"
"They can't. It's impossible."
"Yes, but suppose they did all the same."
"You've never been inside the Time Theater—you're not old enough yet—so you just can't know anything about it or about the reasons why it's impossible," Hal replied with friendly factuality. "The Time Bubble is just a viewer. You can only look through it, and just into the past, at that. But you can't travel through it because you can't change the past. Time traveling is a lot of kid stuff."
"I don't care," the Butcher asserted obstinately. "I'm still going to have warfare when I'm World Director."
"They'll condition you out of the idea," Hal assured him.
"They will not. I won't let 'em."
"It doesn't matter what you think now," Hal said with finality. "You'll have an altogether different opinion when you're six."
"Well, what if I will?" the Butcher snapped back. "You don't have to keep telling me about it, do you?"
The others were silent. Joggy began to bounce up and down abstractedly on the resilient pavement. Hal called in his three uninjes and said in soothing tones: "Joggy and I are going to swim over to the Time Theater. Want to walk us there, Butch?"
Butch scowled.
"How about it, Butch?"
Still Butch did not seem to hear.
The older boy shrugged and said: "Oh, well, how about it—Butcher?"
The Butcher swung around. "They won't let me in the Time Theater. You said so yourself."
"You could walk us over there."
"Well, maybe I will and maybe I won't."
"While you're deciding, we'll get swimming. Come along, Joggy."
Still scowling, the Butcher took a white soapy crayon from the bulging pocket in his silver shorts. Pressed into the pavement, it made a black mark. He scrawled pensively: KEEP ON THE GRASS.
He gazed at his handiwork. No, darn it, that was just what grownups wanted you to do. This grass couldn't be hurt. You couldn't pull it up or tear it off; it hurt your fingers to try. A rub with the side of the crayon removed the sign. He thought for a moment, then wrote: KEEP OFF THE GRASS.
With an untroubled countenance, he sprang up and hurried after the others.
Joggy and the older boy were swimming lazily through the air at shoulder height. In the pavement directly under each of them was a wide, saucer-shaped depression which swam along with them. The uninjes avoided the depressions. Darter was strutting on his hind legs, looking up inquiringly at his master.
"Gimme a ride, Hal, gimme a ride!" the Butcher called. The older boy ignored him. "Aw, gimme a ride, Joggy."
"Oh, all right." Joggy touched the small box attached to the front of his broad metal harness and dropped lightly to the ground. The Butcher climbed on his back. There was a moment of rocking and pitching, during which each boy accused the other of trying to upset them.
Then the Butcher got his balance and they began to swim along securely, though at a level several inches lower. Brute sprang up after his master and was invisibly rebuffed. He retired baffled, but a few minutes later, he was amusing himself by furious futile efforts to climb the hemispherical repulsor field.
Slowly the little cavalcade of boys and uninjes proceeded down the Avenue of Wisdom. Hal amused himself by stroking toward a tree. When he was about four feet from it, he was gently bounced away.
It was really a more tiring method of transportation than walking and quite useless against the wind. True, by rocking the repulsor hemisphere backward, you could get a brief forward push, but it would be nullified when you rocked forward. A slow swimming stroke was the simplest way to make progress.
The general sensation, however, was delightful and levitators were among the most prized of toys.
"There's the Theater," Joggy announced.
"I know ," the Butcher said irritably.
But even he sounded a little solemn and subdued. From the Great Ramp to the topmost airy finial, the Time Theater was the dream of a god realized in unearthly substance. It imparted the aura of demigods to the adults drifting up and down the ramp.
"My father remembers when there wasn't a Time Theater," Hal said softly as he scanned the facade's glowing charts and maps. "Say, they're viewing Earth, somewhere in Scandinavia around zero in the B.C.-A.D. time scale. It should be interesting."
"Will it be about Napoleon?" the Butcher asked eagerly. "Or Hitler?" A red-headed adult heard and smiled and paused to watch. A lock of hair had fallen down the middle of the Butcher's forehead, and as he sat Joggy like a charger, he did bear a faint resemblance to one of the grim little egomaniacs of the Dawn Era.
"Wrong millennium," Hal said.
"Tamerlane then?" the Butcher pressed. "He killed cities and piled the skulls. Blood-bath stuff. Oh, yes, and Tamerlane was a Scand of the Navies."
Hal looked puzzled and then quickly erased the expression. "Well, even if it is about Tamerlane, you can't see it. How about it, Joggy?"
"They won't let me in, either."
"Yes, they will. You're five years old now."
"But I don't feel any older," Joggy replied doubtfully.
"The feeling comes at six. Don't worry, the usher will notice the difference."
Hal and Joggy switched off their levitators and dropped to their feet. The Butcher came down rather hard, twisting an ankle. He opened his mouth to cry, then abruptly closed it hard, bearing his pain in tight-lipped silence like an ancient soldier—like Stalin, maybe, he thought. The red-headed adult's face twitched in half-humorous sympathy.
Hal and Joggy mounted the Ramp and entered a twilit corridor which drank their faint footsteps and returned pulses of light. The Butcher limped manfully after them, but when he got inside, he forgot his battle injury.
Hal looked back. "Honestly, the usher will stop you."
The Butcher shook his head. "I'm going to think my way in. I'm going to think old."
"You won't be able to fool the usher, Butcher. You under-fives simply aren't allowed in the Time Theater. There's a good reason for it—something dangerous might happen if an under-five got inside."
"Why?"
"I don't exactly know, but something."
"Hah! I bet they're scared we'd go traveling in the Time Bubble and have some excitement."
"They are not. I guess they just know you'd get bored and wander away from your seats and maybe disturb the adults or upset the electronics or something. But don't worry about it, Butcher. The usher will take care of you."
"Shut up—I'm thinking I'm World Director," the Butcher informed them, contorting his face diabolically.
Hal spoke to the uninjes, pointing to the side of the corridor. Obediently four of them lined up.
But Brute was peering down the corridor toward where it merged into a deeper darkness. His short legs stiffened, his neckless head seemed to retreat even further between his powerful shoulders, his lips writhed back to show his gleaming fangs, and a completely unfamiliar sound issued from his throat. A choked, grating sound. A growl. The other uninjes moved uneasily.
"Do you suppose something's the matter with his circuits?" Joggy whispered. "Maybe he's getting racial memories from the Scands."
"Of course not," Hal said irritably.
"Brute, get over there," the Butcher commanded. Unwillingly, eyes still fixed on the blackness ahead, Brute obeyed.
The three boys started on. Hal and Joggy experienced a vaguely electrical tingling that vanished almost immediately. They looked back. The Butcher had been stopped by an invisible wall.
"I told you you couldn't fool the usher," Hal said.
The Butcher hurled himself forward. The wall gave a little, then bounced him back with equal force.
"I bet it'll be a bum time view anyway," the Butcher said, not giving up, but not trying again. "And I still don't think the usher can tell how old you are. I bet there's an over-age teacher spying on you through a hole, and if he doesn't like your looks, he switches on the usher."
But the others had disappeared in the blackness. The Butcher waited and then sat down beside the uninjes. Brute laid his head on his knee and growled faintly down the corridor.
"Take it easy, Brute," the Butcher consoled him. "I don't think Tamerlane was really a Scand of the Navies anyhow."
Two chattering girls hardly bigger than himself stepped through the usher as if it weren't there.
The Butcher grimly slipped out the metal tube and put it to his lips. There were two closely spaced faint plops and a large green stain appeared on the bare back of one girl, while purple fluid dripped from the close-cropped hair of the other.
They glared at him and one of them said: "A cub!" But he had his arms folded and wasn't looking at them.
Meanwhile, subordinate ushers had guided Hal and Joggy away from the main entrance to the Time Theater. A sphincter dilated and they found themselves in a small transparent cubicle from which they could watch the show without disturbing the adult audience. They unstrapped their levitators, laid them on the floor and sat down.
The darkened auditorium was circular. Rising from a low central platform was a huge bubble of light, its lower surface somewhat flattened. The audience was seated in concentric rows around the bubble, their keen and compassionate faces dimly revealed by the pale central glow.
But it was the scene within the bubble that riveted the attention of the boys.
Great brooding trees, the trunks of the nearer ones sliced by the bubble's surface, formed the background. Through the dark, wet foliage appeared glimpses of a murky sky, while from the ceiling of the bubble, a ceaseless rain dripped mournfully. A hooded figure crouched beside a little fire partly shielded by a gnarled trunk. Squatting round about were wiry, blue-eyed men with shoulder-length blond hair and full blond beards. They were clothed in furs and metal-studded leather.
Here and there were scattered weapons and armor—long swords glistening with oil to guard them from rust, crudely painted circular shields, and helmets from which curved the horns of beasts. Back and forth, lean, wolflike dogs paced with restless monotony.
Sometimes the men seemed to speak together, or one would rise to peer down the misty forest vistas, but mostly they were motionless. Only the hooded figure, which they seemed to regard with a mingled wonder and fear, swayed incessantly to the rhythm of some unheard chant.
"The Time Bubble has been brought to rest in one of the barbaric cultures of the Dawn Era," a soft voice explained, so casually that Joggy looked around for the speaker, until Hal nudged him sharply, whispering with barely perceptible embarrassment: "Don't do that, Joggy. It's just the electronic interpreter. It senses our development and hears our questions and then it automats background and answers. But it's no more alive than an adolescer or a kinderobot. Got a billion microtapes, though."
The interpreter continued: "The skin-clad men we are viewing in Time in the Round seem to be a group of warriors of the sort who lived by pillage and rapine. The hooded figure is a most unusual find. We believe it to be that of a sorcerer who pretended to control the forces of nature and see into the future."
Joggy whispered: "How is it that we can't see the audience through the other side of the bubble? We can see through this side, all right."
"The bubble only shines light out," Hal told him hurriedly, to show he knew some things as well as the interpreter. "Nothing, not even light, can get into the bubble from outside. The audience on the other side of the bubble sees into it just as we do, only they're seeing the other way—for instance, they can't see the fire because the tree is in the way. And instead of seeing us beyond, they see more trees and sky."
Joggy nodded. "You mean that whatever way you look at the bubble, it's a kind of hole through time?"
"That's right." Hal cleared his throat and recited: "The bubble is the locus of an infinite number of one-way holes, all centering around two points in space-time, one now and one then. The bubble looks completely open, but if you tried to step inside, you'd be stopped—and so would an atom beam. It takes more energy than an atom beam just to maintain the bubble, let alone maneuver it."
"I see, I guess," Joggy whispered. "But if the hole works for light, why can't the people inside the bubble step out of it into our world?"
"Why—er—you see, Joggy—"
The interpreter took over. "The holes are one-way for light, but no-way for matter. If one of the individuals inside the bubble walked toward you, he would cross-section and disappear. But to the audience on the opposite side of the bubble, it would be obvious that he had walked away along the vista down which they are peering."
As if to provide an example, a figure suddenly materialized on their side of the bubble. The wolflike dogs bared their fangs. For an instant, there was only an eerie, distorted, rapidly growing silhouette, changing from blood-red to black as the boundary of the bubble cross-sectioned the intruding figure. Then they recognized the back of another long-haired warrior and realized that the audience on the other side of the bubble had probably seen him approaching for some time.
He bowed to the hooded figure and handed him a small bag.
"More atavistic cubs, big and little! Hold still, Cynthia," a new voice cut in.
Hal turned and saw that two cold-eyed girls had been ushered into the cubicle. One was wiping her close-cropped hair with one hand while mopping a green stain from her friend's back with the other.
Hal nudged Joggy and whispered: "Butch!"
But Joggy was still hypnotized by the Time Bubble.
"Then how is it, Hal," he asked, "that light comes out of the bubble, if the people don't? What I mean is, if one of the people walks toward us, he shrinks to a red blot and disappears. Why doesn't the light coming our way disappear, too?"
"Well—you see, Joggy, it isn't real light. It's—"
Once more the interpreter helped him out.
"The light that comes from the bubble is an isotope. Like atoms of one element, photons of a single frequency also have isotopes. It's more than a matter of polarization. One of these isotopes of light tends to leak futureward through holes in space-time. Most of the light goes down the vistas visible to the other side of the audience. But one isotope is diverted through the walls of the bubble into the Time Theater. Perhaps, because of the intense darkness of the theater, you haven't realized how dimly lit the scene is. That's because we're getting only a single isotope of the original light. Incidentally, no isotopes have been discovered that leak pastward, though attempts are being made to synthesize them."
"Oh, explanations!" murmured one of the newly arrived girls. "The cubs are always angling for them. Apple-polishers!"
" I like this show," a familiar voice announced serenely. "They cut anybody yet with those choppers?"
Hal looked down beside him. "Butch! How did you manage to get in?"
"I don't see any blood. Where's the bodies?"
"But how did you get in—Butcher?"
The Butcher replied airily: "A red-headed man talked to me and said it certainly was sad for a future dictator not to be able to enjoy scenes of carnage in his youth, so I told him I'd been inside the Time Theater and just come out to get a drink of water and go to the eliminator, but then my sprained ankle had got worse—I kind of tried to get up and fell down again—so he picked me up and carried me right through the usher."
"Butcher, that wasn't honest," Hal said a little worriedly. "You tricked him into thinking you were older and his brain waves blanketed yours, going through the usher. I really have heard it's dangerous for you under-fives to be in here."
"The way those cubs beg for babying and get it!" one of the girls commented. "Talk about sex favoritism!" She and her companion withdrew to the far end of the cubicle.
The Butcher grinned at them briefly and concentrated his attention on the scene in the Time Bubble.
"Those big dogs—" he began suddenly. "Brute must have smelled 'em."
"Don't be silly," Hal said. "Smells can't come out of the Time Bubble. Smells haven't any isotopes and—"
"I don't care," the Butcher asserted. "I bet somebody'll figure out someday how to use the bubble for time traveling."
"You can't travel in a point of view," Hal contradicted, "and that's all the bubble is. Besides, some scientists think the bubble isn't real at all, but a—uh—"
"I believe," the interpreter cut in smoothly, "that you're thinking of the theory that the Time Bubble operates by hypermemory. Some scientists would have us believe that all memory is time traveling and that the basic location of the bubble is not space-time at all, but ever-present eternity. Some of them go so far as to state that it is only a mental inability that prevents the Time Bubble from being used for time traveling—just as it may be a similar disability that keeps a robot with the same or even more scopeful memories from being a real man or animal.
"It is because of this minority theory that under-age individuals and other beings with impulsive mentalities are barred from the Time Theater. But do not be alarmed. Even if the minority theory should prove true—and no evidence for it has ever appeared—there are automatically operating safeguards to protect the audience from any harmful consequences of time traveling (almost certainly impossible, remember) in either direction."
"Sissies!" was the Butcher's comment.
"You're rather young to be here, aren't you?" the interpreter inquired.
The Butcher folded his arms and scowled.
The interpreter hesitated almost humanly, probably snatching through a quarter-million microtapes. "Well, you wouldn't have got in unless a qualified adult had certified you as plus-age. Enjoy yourself."
There was no need for the last injunction. The scene within the bubble had acquired a gripping interest. The shaggy warriors were taking up their swords, gathering about the hooded sorcerer. The hood fell back, revealing a face with hawklike, disturbing eyes that seemed to be looking straight out of the bubble at the future.
"This is getting good," the Butcher said, squirming toward the edge of his seat.
"Stop being an impulsive mentality," Hal warned him a little nervously.
"Hah!"
The sorcerer emptied the small bag on the fire and a thick cloud of smoke puffed toward the ceiling of the bubble. A clawlike hand waved wildly. The sorcerer appeared to be expostulating, commanding. The warriors stared uncomprehendingly, which seemed to exasperate the sorcerer.
"That's right," the Butcher approved loudly. "Sock it to 'em!"
"Butcher!" Hal admonished.
Suddenly the bubble grew very bright, as if the Sun had just shone forth in the ancient world, though the rain still dripped down.
"A viewing anomaly has occurred," the interpreter announced. "It may be necessary to collapse the Time Bubble for a short period."
In a frenzy, his ragged robes twisting like smoke, the sorcerer rushed at one of the warriors, pushing him backward so that in a moment he must cross-section.
"Attaboy!" the Butcher encouraged.
Then the warrior was standing outside the bubble, blinking toward the shadows, rain dripping from his beard and furs.
"Oh, boy !" the Butcher cheered in ecstasy.
"Butcher, you've done it!" Hal said, aghast.
"I sure did," the Butcher agreed blandly, "but that old guy in the bubble helped me. Must take two to work it."
"Keep your seats!" the interpreter said loudly. "We are energizing the safeguards!"
The warriors inside the bubble stared in stupid astonishment after the one who had disappeared from their view. The sorcerer leaped about, pushing them in his direction.
Abrupt light flooded the Time Theater. The warriors who had emerged from the bubble stiffened themselves, baring their teeth.
"The safeguards are now energized," the interpreter said.
A woman in a short golden tunic stood up uncertainly from the front row of the audience.
The first warrior looked her up and down, took one hesitant step forward, then another, then suddenly grabbed her and flung her over his left shoulder, looking around menacingly and swinging his sword in his right hand.
"I repeat, the safeguards have been fully energized! Keep your seats!" the interpreter enjoined.
In the cubicle, Hal and Joggy gasped, the two girls squeaked, but the Butcher yelled a "Hey!" of disapproval, snatched up something from the floor and darted out through the sphincter.
Here and there in the audience, other adults stood up. The emerged warriors formed a ring of swinging swords and questing eyes. Between their legs their wolfish dogs, emerged with them, crouched and snarled. Then the warriors began to fan out.
"There has been an unavoidable delay in energizing the safeguards," the interpreter said. "Please be patient."
At that moment, the Butcher entered the main auditorium, brandishing a levitator above his head and striding purposefully down the aisle. At his heels, five stocky forms trotted. In a definitely pre-civilization voice, or at least with pre-civilization volume, he bellowed: "Hey, you! You quit that!"
The first warrior looked toward him, gave his left shoulder a shake to quiet his wriggling captive, gave his right shoulder one to supple his sword arm, and waited until the dwarfish challenger came into range. Then his sword swished down in a flashing arc.
Next moment, the Butcher was on his knees and the warrior was staring at him open-mouthed. The sword had rebounded from something invisible an arm's length above the gnomelike creature's head. The warrior backed a step.
The Butcher stayed down, crouching half behind an aisle seat and digging for something in his pocket. But he didn't stay quiet. "Sic
'em, Brute!" he shrilled. "Sic 'em, Darter! Sic 'em, Pinkie and Whitie and Blue!" Then he stopped shouting and raised his hand to his mouth.
Growling quite unmechanically, the five uninjes hurled themselves forward and closed with the warrior's wolflike dogs. At the first encounter, Brute and Pinkie were grabbed by the throats, shaken, and tossed a dozen feet. The warriors snarled approval and advanced. But then Brute and Pinkie raced back eagerly to the fight—and suddenly the face of the leading warrior was drenched with scarlet. He blinked and touched his fingers to it, then looked at his hand in horror.
The Butcher spared a second to repeat his command to the uninjes. But already the battle was going against the larger dogs. The latter had the advantage of weight and could toss the smaller dogs like so many foxes. But their terrible fangs did no damage, and whenever an uninj clamped on a throat, that throat was torn out.
Meanwhile, great bloody stains had appeared on the bodies of all the warriors. They drew back in a knot, looking at each other fearfully. That was when the Butcher got to his feet and strode forward, hand clenching the levitator above his head.
"Get back where you belong, you big jerks! And drop that lady!"
The first warrior pointed toward him and hissed something. Immediately, a half dozen swords were smiting at the Butcher.
"We are working to energize the safeguards," the interpreter said in mechanical panic. "Remain patient and in your seats."
The uninjes leaped into the melee, at first tearing more fur than flesh. Swords caught them and sent them spinning through the air. They came yapping back for more. Brute fixed on the first warrior's ankle. He dropped the woman, stamped unavailingly on the uninj, and let out a screech.
Swords were still rebounding from the invisible shield under which the Butcher crouched, making terrible faces at his attackers. They drew back, looked again at their bloodstains, goggled at the demon dogs. At their leader's screech, they broke and plunged back into the Time Bubble, their leader stumbling limpingly after them. There they wasted no time on their own ragged sorcerer. Their swords rose and fell, and no repulsor field stayed them.
"Brute, come back!" the Butcher yelled.
The gray uninj let go his hold on the leader's ankle and scampered out of the Time Bubble, which swiftly dimmed to its original light intensity and then winked out.
For once in their very mature lives, all of the adults in the auditorium began to jabber at each other simultaneously.
"We are sorry, but the anomaly has made it necessary to collapse the Time Bubble," the interpreter said. "There will be no viewing until further announcement. Thank you for your patience."
Hal and Joggy caught up with the Butcher just as Brute jumped into his arms and the woman in gold picked him up and hugged him fiercely. The Butcher started to pull away, then grudgingly submitted.
"Cubs!" came a small cold voice from behind Hal and Joggy. "Always playing hero! Say, what's that awful smell, Cynthia? It must have come from those dirty past men."
Hal and Joggy were shouting at the Butcher, but he wasn't listening to them or to the older voices clamoring about "revised theories of reality" and other important things. He didn't even squirm as Brute licked his cheek and the woman in gold planted a big kiss practically on his mouth.
He smiled dreamily and stroked Brute's muzzle and murmured softly: "We came, we saw, we conquered, didn't we, Brute?"
|
Who is Mom, and what are her characteristics?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Dream Town by Henry Slesar.
Relevant chunks:
Henry Slesar, young New York advertising executive and by now no
longer a new-comer to either this magazine or to this field, describes
a strange little town that you, yourself, may blunder into one of these
evenings. But, if you do, beware—beware of the Knights!
dream town
by ... HENRY SLESAR
The woman in the doorway looked so harmless. Who
was to tell she had some rather startling interests?
The
woman in the
doorway looked like Mom in
the homier political cartoons.
She was plump, apple-cheeked,
white-haired. She
wore a fussy, old-fashioned
nightgown, and was busily
clutching a worn house-robe
around her expansive middle.
She blinked at Sol Becker's
rain-flattened hair and hang-dog
expression, and said:
"What is it? What do you
want?"
"I'm sorry—" Sol's voice
was pained. "The man in the
diner said you might put me
up. I had my car stolen: a
hitchhiker; going to Salinas ..."
He was puffing.
"Hitchhiker? I don't understand."
She clucked at the
sight of the pool of water he
was creating in her foyer.
"Well, come inside, for heaven's
sake. You're soaking!"
"Thanks," Sol said gratefully.
With the door firmly shut
behind him, the warm interior
of the little house covered
him like a blanket. He
shivered, and let the warmth
seep over him. "I'm terribly
sorry. I know how late it is."
He looked at his watch, but
the face was too misty to
make out the hour.
"Must be nearly three," the
woman sniffed. "You couldn't
have come at a worse time. I
was just on my way to
court—"
The words slid by him. "If
I could just stay overnight.
Until the morning. I could
call some friends in San Fernando.
I'm very susceptible to
head colds," he added inanely.
"Well, take those shoes off,
first," the woman grumbled.
"You can undress in the parlor,
if you'll keep off the rug.
You won't mind using the
sofa?"
"No, of course not. I'd be
happy to pay—"
"Oh, tush, nobody's asking
you to pay. This isn't a hotel.
You mind if I go back upstairs?
They're gonna miss
me at the palace."
"No, of course not," Sol
said. He followed her into
the darkened parlor, and
watched as she turned the
screw on a hurricane-style
lamp, shedding a yellow pool
of light over half a flowery
sofa and a doily-covered wing
chair. "You go on up. I'll be
perfectly fine."
"Guess you can use a towel,
though. I'll get you one,
then I'm going up. We wake
pretty early in this house.
Breakfast's at seven; you'll
have to be up if you want
any."
"I really can't thank you
enough—"
"Tush," the woman said.
She scurried out, and returned
a moment later with a
thick bath towel. "Sorry I
can't give you any bedding.
But you'll find it nice and
warm in here." She squinted
at the dim face of a ship's-wheel
clock on the mantle,
and made a noise with her
tongue. "Three-thirty!" she
exclaimed. "I'll miss the
whole execution ..."
"The what?"
"Goodnight, young man,"
Mom said firmly.
She padded off, leaving Sol
holding the towel. He patted
his face, and then scrubbed
the wet tangle of brown hair.
Carefully, he stepped off the
carpet and onto the stone
floor in front of the fireplace.
He removed his
drenched coat and suit jacket,
and squeezed water out
over the ashes.
He stripped down to his
underwear, wondering about
next morning's possible embarrassment,
and decided to
use the damp bath towel as a
blanket. The sofa was downy
and comfortable. He curled
up under the towel, shivered
once, and closed his eyes.
He
was tired and very
sleepy, and his customary
nightly review was limited to
a few detached thoughts
about the wedding he was
supposed to attend in Salinas
that weekend ... the hoodlum
who had responded to his
good-nature by dumping him
out of his own car ... the slogging
walk to the village ...
the little round woman who
was hurrying off, like the
White Rabbit, to some mysterious
appointment on the
upper floor ...
Then he went to sleep.
A voice awoke him, shrill
and questioning.
"Are you nakkid ?"
His eyes flew open, and he
pulled the towel protectively
around his body and glared
at the little girl with the rust-red
pigtails.
"Huh, mister?" she said,
pushing a finger against her
freckled nose. "Are you?"
"No," he said angrily. "I'm
not naked. Will you please
go away?"
"Sally!" It was Mom, appearing
in the doorway of the
parlor. "You leave the gentleman
alone." She went off
again.
"Yes," Sol said. "Please let
me get dressed. If you don't
mind." The girl didn't move.
"What time is it?"
"Dunno," Sally shrugged.
"I like poached eggs. They're
my favorite eggs in the whole
world."
"That's good," Sol said desperately.
"Now why don't you
be a good girl and eat your
poached eggs. In the kitchen."
"Ain't ready yet. You going
to stay for breakfast?"
"I'm not going to do anything
until you get out of
here."
She put the end of a pigtail
in her mouth and sat down on
the chair opposite. "I went to
the palace last night. They
had an exelution."
"Please," Sol groaned. "Be
a good girl, Sally. If you let
me get dressed, I'll show you
how to take your thumb off."
"Oh, that's an old trick. Did
you ever see an exelution?"
"No. Did you ever see a little
girl with her hide
tanned?"
"Huh?"
" Sally! " Mom again, sterner.
"You get out of there, or
you-know-what ..."
"Okay," the girl said
blithely. "I'm goin' to the palace
again. If I brush my
teeth. Aren't you ever gonna
get up?" She skipped out of
the room, and Sol hastily sat
up and reached for his
trousers.
When he had dressed, the
clothes still damp and unpleasant
against his skin, he
went out of the parlor and
found the kitchen. Mom was
busy at the stove. He said:
"Good morning."
"Breakfast in ten minutes,"
she said cheerfully. "You like
poached eggs?"
"Sure. Do you have a telephone?"
"In the hallway. Party line,
so you may have to wait."
He tried for fifteen minutes
to get through, but there
was a woman on the line who
was terribly upset about a
cotton dress she had ordered
from Sears, and was telling
the world about it.
Finally, he got his call
through to Salinas, and a
sleepy-voiced Fred, his old
Army buddy, listened somewhat
indifferently to his tale
of woe. "I might miss the
wedding," Sol said unhappily.
"I'm awfully sorry." Fred
didn't seem to be half as sorry
as he was. When Sol hung
up, he was feeling more despondent
than ever.
A man, tall and rangy, with
a bobbing Adam's apple and
a lined face, came into the
hallway. "Hullo?" he said inquiringly.
"You the fella had
the car stolen?"
"Yes."
The man scratched his ear.
"Take you over to Sheriff
Coogan after breakfast. He'll
let the Stateys know about it.
My name's Dawes."
Sol accepted a careful
handshake.
"Don't get many people
comin' into town," Dawes
said, looking at him curiously.
"Ain't seen a stranger in
years. But you look like the
rest of us." He chuckled.
Mom called out: "Breakfast!"
At
the table, Dawes
asked his destination.
"Wedding in Salinas," he
explained. "Old Army friend
of mine. I picked this hitchhiker
up about two miles from
here. He seemed okay."
"Never can tell," Dawes
said placidly, munching egg.
"Hey, Ma. That why you
were so late comin' to court
last night?"
"That's right, Pa." She
poured the blackest coffee
Sol had ever seen. "Didn't
miss much, though."
"What court is that?" Sol
asked politely, his mouth full.
"Umagum," Sally said, a
piece of toast sticking out
from the side of her mouth.
"Don't you know nothin' ?"
" Arma gon," Dawes corrected.
He looked sheepishly at
the stranger. "Don't expect
Mister—" He cocked an eyebrow.
"What's the name?"
"Becker."
"Don't expect Mr. Becker
knows anything about Armagon.
It's just a dream, you
know." He smiled apologetically.
"Dream? You mean this—Armagon
is a place you dream
about?"
"Yep," Dawes said. He lifted
cup to lip. "Great coffee,
Ma." He leaned back with a
contented sigh. "Dream about
it every night. Got so used to
the place, I get all confused
in the daytime."
Mom said: "I get muddle-headed
too, sometimes."
"You mean—" Sol put his
napkin in his lap. "You mean you dream about the same
place?"
"Sure," Sally piped. "We
all go there at night. I'm goin'
to the palace again, too."
"If you brush your teeth,"
Mom said primly.
"If I brush my teeth. Boy,
you shoulda seen the exelution!"
"Execution," her father
said.
"Oh, my goodness!" Mom
got up hastily. "That reminds
me. I gotta call poor Mrs.
Brundage. It's the least I
could do."
"Good idea," Dawes nodded.
"And I'll have to round
up some folks and get old
Brundage out of there."
Sol was staring. He opened
his mouth, but couldn't think
of the right question to ask.
Then he blurted out: "What
execution?"
"None of your business,"
the man said coldly. "You eat
up, young man. If you want
me to get Sheriff Coogan
lookin' for your car."
The rest of the meal went
silently, except for Sally's insistence
upon singing her
school song between mouthfuls.
When Dawes was
through, he pushed back his
plate and ordered Sol to get
ready.
Sol grabbed his topcoat and
followed the man out the
door.
"Have to stop someplace
first," Dawes said. "But we'll
be pickin' up the Sheriff on
the way. Okay with you?"
"Fine," Sol said uneasily.
The rain had stopped, but
the heavy clouds seemed reluctant
to leave the skies over
the small town. There was a
skittish breeze blowing, and
Sol Becker tightened the collar
of his coat around his
neck as he tried to keep up
with the fast-stepping Dawes.
They
crossed the
street diagonally, and entered
a two-story wooden building.
Dawes took the stairs at a
brisk pace, and pushed open
the door on the second floor.
A fat man looked up from
behind a desk.
"Hi, Charlie. Thought I'd
see if you wanted to help
move Brundage."
The man batted his eyes.
"Oh, Brundage!" he said.
"You know, I clean forgot
about him?" He laughed.
"Imagine me forgetting
that?"
"Yeah." Dawes wasn't
amused. "And you Prince Regent."
"Aw, Willie—"
"Well, come on. Stir that
fat carcass. Gotta pick up
Sheriff Coogan, too. This
here gentleman has to see him
about somethin' else."
The man regarded Sol suspiciously.
"Never seen you
before. Night or day. Stranger?"
"Come on !" Dawes said.
The fat man grunted and
hoisted himself out of the
swivel chair. He followed
lamely behind the two men
as they went out into the
street again.
A woman, with an empty
market basket, nodded casually
to them. "Mornin', folks.
Enjoyed it last night.
Thought you made a right
nice speech, Mr. Dawes."
"Thanks," Dawes answered
gruffly, but obviously flattered.
"We were just goin'
over to Brundage's to pick up
the body. Ma's gonna pay a
call on Mrs. Brundage around
ten o'clock. You care to visit?"
"Why, I think that's very
nice," the woman said. "I'll
be sure and do that." She
smiled at the fat man. "Mornin',
Prince."
Sol's head was spinning. As
they left the woman and continued
their determined
march down the quiet street,
he tried to find answers.
"Look, Mr. Dawes." He was
panting; the pace was fast.
"Does she dream about this—Armagon,
too? That woman
back there?"
"Yep."
Charlie chuckled. "He's a
stranger, all right."
"And you, Mr.—" Sol
turned to the fat man. "You
also know about this palace
and everything?"
"I told you," Dawes said
testily. "Charlie here's Prince
Regent. But don't let the fancy
title fool you. He got no
more power than any Knight
of the Realm. He's just too
dern fat to do much more'n
sit on a throne and eat grapes.
That right, Charlie?"
The fat man giggled.
"Here's the Sheriff," Dawes
said.
The Sheriff, a sleepy-eyed
citizen with a long, sad face,
was rocking on a porch as
they approached his house,
trying to puff a half-lit pipe.
He lifted one hand wearily
when he saw them.
"Hi, Cookie," Dawes
grinned. "Thought you, me,
and Charlie would get Brundage's
body outa the house.
This here's Mr. Becker; he
got another problem. Mr.
Becker, meet Cookie Coogan."
The Sheriff joined the procession,
pausing only once to
inquire into Sol's predicament.
He described the hitchhiker
incident, but Coogan
listened stoically. He murmured
something about the
Troopers, and shuffled alongside
the puffing fat man.
Sol soon realized that their
destination was a barber shop.
Dawes cupped his hands
over the plate glass and
peered inside. Gold letters on
the glass advertised: HAIRCUT
SHAVE & MASSAGE
PARLOR. He reported: "Nobody
in the shop. Must be
upstairs."
The
fat man rang the
bell. It was a while before an
answer came.
It was a reedy woman in a
housecoat, her hair in curlers,
her eyes red and swollen.
"Now, now," Dawes said
gently. "Don't you take on
like that, Mrs. Brundage. You
heard the charges. It hadda
be this way."
"My poor Vincent," she
sobbed.
"Better let us up," the
Sheriff said kindly. "No use
just lettin' him lay there,
Mrs. Brundage."
"He didn't mean no harm,"
the woman snuffled. "He was
just purely ornery, Vincent
was. Just plain mean stubborn."
"The law's the law," the
fat man sighed.
Sol couldn't hold himself
in.
"What law? Who's dead?
How did it happen?"
Dawes looked at him disgustedly.
"Now is it any of your business? I mean, is it?"
"I don't know," Sol said
miserably.
"You better stay out of
this," the Sheriff warned.
"This is a local matter, young
man. You better stay in the
shop while we go up."
They filed past him and the
crying Mrs. Brundage.
When they were out of
sight, Sol pleaded with her.
"What happened? How did
your husband die?"
"Please ..."
"You must tell me! Was it
something to do with Armagon?
Do you dream about the
place, too?"
She was shocked at the
question. "Of course!"
"And your husband? Did
he have the same dream?"
Fresh tears resulted. "Can't
you leave me alone?" She
turned her back. "I got things
to do. You can make yourself
comfortable—" She indicated
the barber chairs, and left
through the back door.
Sol looked after her, and
then ambled over to the first
chair and slipped into the
high seat. His reflection in
the mirror, strangely gray in
the dim light, made him
groan. His clothes were a
mess, and he needed a shave.
If only Brundage had been
alive ...
He leaped out of the chair
as voices sounded behind the
door. Dawes was kicking it
open with his foot, his arms
laden with two rather large
feet, still encased in bedroom
slippers. Charlie was at the
other end of the burden,
which appeared to be a middle-aged
man in pajamas. The
Sheriff followed the trio up
with a sad, undertaker expression.
Behind him came Mrs.
Brundage, properly weeping.
"We'll take him to the funeral
parlor," Dawes said,
breathing hard. "Weighs a
ton, don't he?"
"What killed him?" Sol
said.
"Heart attack."
The fat man chuckled.
The tableau was grisly. Sol
looked away, towards the
comfortingly mundane atmosphere
of the barber shop. But
even the sight of the thick-padded
chairs, the shaving
mugs on the wall, the neat
rows of cutting instruments,
seemed grotesque and morbid.
"Listen," Sol said, as they
went through the doorway.
"About my car—"
The Sheriff turned and regarded
him lugubriously.
"Your car ? Young man, ain't
you got no respect ?"
Sol swallowed hard and fell
silent. He went outside with
them, the woman slamming
the barber-shop door behind
him. He waited in front of
the building while the men
toted away the corpse to some
new destination.
He
took a walk.
The town was just coming
to life. People were strolling
out of their houses, commenting
on the weather, chuckling
amiably about local affairs.
Kids on bicycles were beginning
to appear, jangling the
little bells and hooting to
each other. A woman, hanging
wash in the back yard,
called out to him, thinking
he was somebody else.
He found a little park, no
more than twenty yards in
circumference, centered
around a weatherbeaten monument
of some unrecognizable
military figure. Three
old men took their places on
the bench that circled the
General, and leaned on their
canes.
Sol was a civil engineer.
But he made like a reporter.
"Pardon me, sir." The old
man, leathery-faced, with a
fine yellow moustache, looked
at him dumbly. "Have you
ever heard of Armagon?"
"You a stranger?"
"Yes."
"Thought so."
Sol repeated the question.
"Course I did. Been goin'
there ever since I was a kid.
Night-times, that is."
"How—I mean, what kind
of place is it?"
"Said you're a stranger?"
"Yes."
"Then 'tain't your business."
That was that.
He left the park, and wandered
into a thriving luncheonette.
He tried questioning
the man behind the counter,
who merely snickered and
said: "You stayin' with the
Dawes, ain't you? Better ask
Willie, then. He knows the
place better than anybody."
He asked about the execution,
and the man stiffened.
"Don't think I can talk
about that. Fella broke one of
the Laws; that's about it.
Don't see where you come
into it."
At eleven o'clock, he returned
to the Dawes residence,
and found Mom in the
kitchen, surrounded by the
warm nostalgic odor of home-baked
bread. She told him
that her husband had left a
message for the stranger, informing
him that the State
Police would be around to get
his story.
He waited in the house,
gloomily turning the pages of
the local newspaper, searching
for references to Armagon.
He found nothing.
At eleven-thirty, a brown-faced
State Trooper came to
call, and Sol told his story.
He was promised nothing,
and told to stay in town until
he was contacted again by
the authorities.
Mom fixed him a light
lunch, the greatest feature of
which was some hot biscuits
she plucked out of the oven.
It made him feel almost normal.
He wandered around the
town some more after lunch,
trying to spark conversation
with the residents.
He learned little.
At
five-thirty, he returned
to the Dawes house, and was
promptly leaped upon by
little Sally.
"Hi! Hi! Hi!" she said,
clutching his right leg and
almost toppling him over.
"We had a party in school. I
had chocolate cake. You goin'
to stay with us?"
"Just another night," Sol
told her, trying to shake the
girl off. "If it's okay with
your folks. They haven't
found my car yet."
"Sally!" Mom was peering
out of the screen door. "You
let Mr. Becker alone and go
wash. Your Pa will be home
soon."
"Oh, pooh," the girl said,
her pigtails swinging. "Do
you got a girlfriend, mister?"
"No." Sol struggled towards
the house with her
dead weight on his leg.
"Would you mind? I can't
walk."
"Would you be my boyfriend?"
"Well, we'll talk about it.
If you let go my leg."
Inside the house, she said:
"We're having pot roast. You
stayin'?"
"Of course Mr. Becker's
stayin'," Mom said. "He's our
guest."
"That's very kind of you,"
Sol said. "I really wish you'd
let me pay something—"
"Don't want to hear another
word about pay."
Mr. Dawes
came home an
hour later, looking tired.
Mom pecked him lightly on
the forehead. He glanced at
the evening paper, and then
spoke to Sol.
"Hear you been asking
questions, Mr. Becker."
Sol nodded, embarrassed.
"Guess I have. I'm awfully
curious about this Armagon
place. Never heard of anything
like it before."
Dawes grunted. "You ain't
a reporter?"
"Oh, no. I'm an engineer. I
was just satisfying my own
curiosity."
"Uh-huh." Dawes looked
reflective. "You wouldn't be
thinkin' about writing us up
or anything. I mean, this is a
pretty private affair."
"Writing it up?" Sol
blinked. "I hadn't thought of
it. But you'll have to admit—it's
sure interesting."
"Yeah," Dawes said narrowly.
"I guess it would be."
"Supper!" Mom called.
After the meal, they spent
a quiet evening at home. Sally
went to bed, screaming her
reluctance, at eight-thirty.
Mom, dozing in the big chair
near the fireplace, padded upstairs
at nine. Then Dawes
yawned widely, stood up, and
said goodnight at quarter-of-ten.
He paused in the doorway
before leaving.
"I'd think about that," he
said. "Writing it up, I mean.
A lot of folks would think
you were just plum crazy."
Sol laughed feebly. "I
guess they would at that."
"Goodnight," Dawes said.
"Goodnight."
He read Sally's copy of Treasure Island for about
half an hour. Then he undressed,
made himself comfortable
on the sofa, snuggled
under the soft blanket
that Mom had provided, and
shut his eyes.
He reviewed the events of
the day before dropping off
to sleep. The troublesome
Sally. The strange dream
world of Armagon. The visit
to the barber shop. The removal
of Brundage's body.
The conversations with the
townspeople. Dawes' suspicious
attitude ...
Then sleep came.
He
was flanked by marble
pillars, thrusting towards
a high-domed ceiling.
The room stretched long
and wide before him, the
walls bedecked in stunning
purple draperies.
He whirled at the sound of
footsteps, echoing stridently
on the stone floor. Someone
was running towards him.
It was Sally, pigtails
streaming out behind her, the
small body wearing a flowing
white toga. She was shrieking,
laughing as she skittered
past him, clutching a gleaming
gold helmet.
He called out to her, but
she was too busy outdistancing
her pursuer. It was Sheriff
Coogan, puffing and huffing,
the metal-and-gold cloth
uniform ludicrous on his
lanky frame.
"Consarn kid!" he wheezed.
"Gimme my hat!"
Mom was following him,
her stout body regal in scarlet
robes. "Sally! You give
Sir Coogan his helmet! You
hear?"
"Mrs. Dawes!" Sol said.
"Why, Mr. Becker! How
nice to see you again! Pa! Pa! Look who's here!"
Willie Dawes appeared. No! Sol thought. This was King Dawes; nothing else
could explain the magnificence
of his attire.
"Yes," Dawes said craftily.
"So I see. Welcome to Armagon,
Mr. Becker."
"Armagon?" Sol gaped.
"Then this is the place
you've been dreaming about?"
"Yep," the King said. "And
now you're in it, too."
"Then I'm only dreaming!"
Charlie, the fat man,
clumsy as ever in his robes of
State, said: "So that's the
snooper, eh?"
"Yep," Dawes chuckled.
"Think you better round up
the Knights."
Sol said: "The Knights?"
"Exelution! Exelution!"
Sally shrieked.
"Now wait a minute—"
Charlie shouted.
Running feet, clanking of
armor. Sol backed up against
a pillar. "Now look here.
You've gone far enough—"
"Not quite," said the King.
The Knights stepped forward.
"Wait!" Sol screamed.
Familiar faces, under shining
helmets, moved towards
him; the tips of sharp-pointed
spears gleaming wickedly.
And Sol Becker wondered—would
he ever awake?
Question:
Who is Mom, and what are her characteristics?
Answer:
|
[
"Mom is the wife of Willie Dawes, and is the kind woman who received Sol when his car was robbed and he was wet from the rain. She was very kind to give him the sofa, after which she hurried up to her room to attend the Armagon execution. She seems to be a very good mom, and she enjoys cooking for her family. She is very helpful to Sol, but she also makes it clear that she isn’t going to go out of her way to help him more, like he has to sleep on the sofa and that breakfast is at 7. ",
"Mom is the first person Sol meets when he arrives at her doorstep in the rain. She is described to look like a mother from the homier political cartoons. She is plump, apple-cheeked, and white-haired. She also wears a fussy, old-fashioned nightgown, and a well-worn houserobe when she meets Sol. Mom is very kind, instantly welcoming Sol inside of the house and letting him sleep on the couch. Although she apologizes about the temporary accommodations, she is kind enough to refuse any form of payment from Sol. Mom is also a very good cook, as she is in charge of making all of the meals in the house. Despite Mom’s kind side, she is also a strict parent towards Sally. She often tells her to stop annoying their guest and tells her to brush her teeth before anything. Mom also looks out for the other townspeople too, giving Mrs. Brundage a phone call after her husband is executed. When Sol reaches Armagon, Mom is wearing regal scarlet robes and scolding Sally to give the sheriff his helmet back. ",
"Mom is the second adult in the Dawes household and Sally’s mother. She is very kind and selfless. She allows Sol, a total stranger who knocks at her door at three at night, to sleep on their sofa and gives him a towel to clean himself. She makes him breakfast in the morning and refuses his money. Mom asks Dawes to help Sol get to the sheriff. She also decides to call Mrs. Brundage after her husband Vincent gets executed to express her condolences. She is a relatively good mother who can handle Sally’s rebellious nature and also a rather generous host who feeds her entire family and Sol every day. ",
"Mom is the housewife of the Dawes family, the wife of Mr. Dawes. She is called “Ma” by Mr. Dawes. She is plump, having apple cheeks and white hair. She wears a fussy, old-fashioned nightgown when Sol Becker, an engineer who lost his car on his way to a friend’s wedding, asks for a stay. She welcomes Sol to stay in their house and lets him sleep on the sofa. She is a cheerful woman when preparing the family’s meals. She is always busy in the kitchen, and she often educates Sally, her daughter, about not doing something inappropriate. She is strict with Sally. Sometimes, she gets confused between day and night because she goes to the dream place every night. In addition, she is a sympathetic woman because she remembers to call Mrs. Brundage to comfort her after the loss of her husband. When Sol asks for another stay in the house, she agrees and insists that he does not need to pay for it."
] |
29193
|
Henry Slesar, young New York advertising executive and by now no
longer a new-comer to either this magazine or to this field, describes
a strange little town that you, yourself, may blunder into one of these
evenings. But, if you do, beware—beware of the Knights!
dream town
by ... HENRY SLESAR
The woman in the doorway looked so harmless. Who
was to tell she had some rather startling interests?
The
woman in the
doorway looked like Mom in
the homier political cartoons.
She was plump, apple-cheeked,
white-haired. She
wore a fussy, old-fashioned
nightgown, and was busily
clutching a worn house-robe
around her expansive middle.
She blinked at Sol Becker's
rain-flattened hair and hang-dog
expression, and said:
"What is it? What do you
want?"
"I'm sorry—" Sol's voice
was pained. "The man in the
diner said you might put me
up. I had my car stolen: a
hitchhiker; going to Salinas ..."
He was puffing.
"Hitchhiker? I don't understand."
She clucked at the
sight of the pool of water he
was creating in her foyer.
"Well, come inside, for heaven's
sake. You're soaking!"
"Thanks," Sol said gratefully.
With the door firmly shut
behind him, the warm interior
of the little house covered
him like a blanket. He
shivered, and let the warmth
seep over him. "I'm terribly
sorry. I know how late it is."
He looked at his watch, but
the face was too misty to
make out the hour.
"Must be nearly three," the
woman sniffed. "You couldn't
have come at a worse time. I
was just on my way to
court—"
The words slid by him. "If
I could just stay overnight.
Until the morning. I could
call some friends in San Fernando.
I'm very susceptible to
head colds," he added inanely.
"Well, take those shoes off,
first," the woman grumbled.
"You can undress in the parlor,
if you'll keep off the rug.
You won't mind using the
sofa?"
"No, of course not. I'd be
happy to pay—"
"Oh, tush, nobody's asking
you to pay. This isn't a hotel.
You mind if I go back upstairs?
They're gonna miss
me at the palace."
"No, of course not," Sol
said. He followed her into
the darkened parlor, and
watched as she turned the
screw on a hurricane-style
lamp, shedding a yellow pool
of light over half a flowery
sofa and a doily-covered wing
chair. "You go on up. I'll be
perfectly fine."
"Guess you can use a towel,
though. I'll get you one,
then I'm going up. We wake
pretty early in this house.
Breakfast's at seven; you'll
have to be up if you want
any."
"I really can't thank you
enough—"
"Tush," the woman said.
She scurried out, and returned
a moment later with a
thick bath towel. "Sorry I
can't give you any bedding.
But you'll find it nice and
warm in here." She squinted
at the dim face of a ship's-wheel
clock on the mantle,
and made a noise with her
tongue. "Three-thirty!" she
exclaimed. "I'll miss the
whole execution ..."
"The what?"
"Goodnight, young man,"
Mom said firmly.
She padded off, leaving Sol
holding the towel. He patted
his face, and then scrubbed
the wet tangle of brown hair.
Carefully, he stepped off the
carpet and onto the stone
floor in front of the fireplace.
He removed his
drenched coat and suit jacket,
and squeezed water out
over the ashes.
He stripped down to his
underwear, wondering about
next morning's possible embarrassment,
and decided to
use the damp bath towel as a
blanket. The sofa was downy
and comfortable. He curled
up under the towel, shivered
once, and closed his eyes.
He
was tired and very
sleepy, and his customary
nightly review was limited to
a few detached thoughts
about the wedding he was
supposed to attend in Salinas
that weekend ... the hoodlum
who had responded to his
good-nature by dumping him
out of his own car ... the slogging
walk to the village ...
the little round woman who
was hurrying off, like the
White Rabbit, to some mysterious
appointment on the
upper floor ...
Then he went to sleep.
A voice awoke him, shrill
and questioning.
"Are you nakkid ?"
His eyes flew open, and he
pulled the towel protectively
around his body and glared
at the little girl with the rust-red
pigtails.
"Huh, mister?" she said,
pushing a finger against her
freckled nose. "Are you?"
"No," he said angrily. "I'm
not naked. Will you please
go away?"
"Sally!" It was Mom, appearing
in the doorway of the
parlor. "You leave the gentleman
alone." She went off
again.
"Yes," Sol said. "Please let
me get dressed. If you don't
mind." The girl didn't move.
"What time is it?"
"Dunno," Sally shrugged.
"I like poached eggs. They're
my favorite eggs in the whole
world."
"That's good," Sol said desperately.
"Now why don't you
be a good girl and eat your
poached eggs. In the kitchen."
"Ain't ready yet. You going
to stay for breakfast?"
"I'm not going to do anything
until you get out of
here."
She put the end of a pigtail
in her mouth and sat down on
the chair opposite. "I went to
the palace last night. They
had an exelution."
"Please," Sol groaned. "Be
a good girl, Sally. If you let
me get dressed, I'll show you
how to take your thumb off."
"Oh, that's an old trick. Did
you ever see an exelution?"
"No. Did you ever see a little
girl with her hide
tanned?"
"Huh?"
" Sally! " Mom again, sterner.
"You get out of there, or
you-know-what ..."
"Okay," the girl said
blithely. "I'm goin' to the palace
again. If I brush my
teeth. Aren't you ever gonna
get up?" She skipped out of
the room, and Sol hastily sat
up and reached for his
trousers.
When he had dressed, the
clothes still damp and unpleasant
against his skin, he
went out of the parlor and
found the kitchen. Mom was
busy at the stove. He said:
"Good morning."
"Breakfast in ten minutes,"
she said cheerfully. "You like
poached eggs?"
"Sure. Do you have a telephone?"
"In the hallway. Party line,
so you may have to wait."
He tried for fifteen minutes
to get through, but there
was a woman on the line who
was terribly upset about a
cotton dress she had ordered
from Sears, and was telling
the world about it.
Finally, he got his call
through to Salinas, and a
sleepy-voiced Fred, his old
Army buddy, listened somewhat
indifferently to his tale
of woe. "I might miss the
wedding," Sol said unhappily.
"I'm awfully sorry." Fred
didn't seem to be half as sorry
as he was. When Sol hung
up, he was feeling more despondent
than ever.
A man, tall and rangy, with
a bobbing Adam's apple and
a lined face, came into the
hallway. "Hullo?" he said inquiringly.
"You the fella had
the car stolen?"
"Yes."
The man scratched his ear.
"Take you over to Sheriff
Coogan after breakfast. He'll
let the Stateys know about it.
My name's Dawes."
Sol accepted a careful
handshake.
"Don't get many people
comin' into town," Dawes
said, looking at him curiously.
"Ain't seen a stranger in
years. But you look like the
rest of us." He chuckled.
Mom called out: "Breakfast!"
At
the table, Dawes
asked his destination.
"Wedding in Salinas," he
explained. "Old Army friend
of mine. I picked this hitchhiker
up about two miles from
here. He seemed okay."
"Never can tell," Dawes
said placidly, munching egg.
"Hey, Ma. That why you
were so late comin' to court
last night?"
"That's right, Pa." She
poured the blackest coffee
Sol had ever seen. "Didn't
miss much, though."
"What court is that?" Sol
asked politely, his mouth full.
"Umagum," Sally said, a
piece of toast sticking out
from the side of her mouth.
"Don't you know nothin' ?"
" Arma gon," Dawes corrected.
He looked sheepishly at
the stranger. "Don't expect
Mister—" He cocked an eyebrow.
"What's the name?"
"Becker."
"Don't expect Mr. Becker
knows anything about Armagon.
It's just a dream, you
know." He smiled apologetically.
"Dream? You mean this—Armagon
is a place you dream
about?"
"Yep," Dawes said. He lifted
cup to lip. "Great coffee,
Ma." He leaned back with a
contented sigh. "Dream about
it every night. Got so used to
the place, I get all confused
in the daytime."
Mom said: "I get muddle-headed
too, sometimes."
"You mean—" Sol put his
napkin in his lap. "You mean you dream about the same
place?"
"Sure," Sally piped. "We
all go there at night. I'm goin'
to the palace again, too."
"If you brush your teeth,"
Mom said primly.
"If I brush my teeth. Boy,
you shoulda seen the exelution!"
"Execution," her father
said.
"Oh, my goodness!" Mom
got up hastily. "That reminds
me. I gotta call poor Mrs.
Brundage. It's the least I
could do."
"Good idea," Dawes nodded.
"And I'll have to round
up some folks and get old
Brundage out of there."
Sol was staring. He opened
his mouth, but couldn't think
of the right question to ask.
Then he blurted out: "What
execution?"
"None of your business,"
the man said coldly. "You eat
up, young man. If you want
me to get Sheriff Coogan
lookin' for your car."
The rest of the meal went
silently, except for Sally's insistence
upon singing her
school song between mouthfuls.
When Dawes was
through, he pushed back his
plate and ordered Sol to get
ready.
Sol grabbed his topcoat and
followed the man out the
door.
"Have to stop someplace
first," Dawes said. "But we'll
be pickin' up the Sheriff on
the way. Okay with you?"
"Fine," Sol said uneasily.
The rain had stopped, but
the heavy clouds seemed reluctant
to leave the skies over
the small town. There was a
skittish breeze blowing, and
Sol Becker tightened the collar
of his coat around his
neck as he tried to keep up
with the fast-stepping Dawes.
They
crossed the
street diagonally, and entered
a two-story wooden building.
Dawes took the stairs at a
brisk pace, and pushed open
the door on the second floor.
A fat man looked up from
behind a desk.
"Hi, Charlie. Thought I'd
see if you wanted to help
move Brundage."
The man batted his eyes.
"Oh, Brundage!" he said.
"You know, I clean forgot
about him?" He laughed.
"Imagine me forgetting
that?"
"Yeah." Dawes wasn't
amused. "And you Prince Regent."
"Aw, Willie—"
"Well, come on. Stir that
fat carcass. Gotta pick up
Sheriff Coogan, too. This
here gentleman has to see him
about somethin' else."
The man regarded Sol suspiciously.
"Never seen you
before. Night or day. Stranger?"
"Come on !" Dawes said.
The fat man grunted and
hoisted himself out of the
swivel chair. He followed
lamely behind the two men
as they went out into the
street again.
A woman, with an empty
market basket, nodded casually
to them. "Mornin', folks.
Enjoyed it last night.
Thought you made a right
nice speech, Mr. Dawes."
"Thanks," Dawes answered
gruffly, but obviously flattered.
"We were just goin'
over to Brundage's to pick up
the body. Ma's gonna pay a
call on Mrs. Brundage around
ten o'clock. You care to visit?"
"Why, I think that's very
nice," the woman said. "I'll
be sure and do that." She
smiled at the fat man. "Mornin',
Prince."
Sol's head was spinning. As
they left the woman and continued
their determined
march down the quiet street,
he tried to find answers.
"Look, Mr. Dawes." He was
panting; the pace was fast.
"Does she dream about this—Armagon,
too? That woman
back there?"
"Yep."
Charlie chuckled. "He's a
stranger, all right."
"And you, Mr.—" Sol
turned to the fat man. "You
also know about this palace
and everything?"
"I told you," Dawes said
testily. "Charlie here's Prince
Regent. But don't let the fancy
title fool you. He got no
more power than any Knight
of the Realm. He's just too
dern fat to do much more'n
sit on a throne and eat grapes.
That right, Charlie?"
The fat man giggled.
"Here's the Sheriff," Dawes
said.
The Sheriff, a sleepy-eyed
citizen with a long, sad face,
was rocking on a porch as
they approached his house,
trying to puff a half-lit pipe.
He lifted one hand wearily
when he saw them.
"Hi, Cookie," Dawes
grinned. "Thought you, me,
and Charlie would get Brundage's
body outa the house.
This here's Mr. Becker; he
got another problem. Mr.
Becker, meet Cookie Coogan."
The Sheriff joined the procession,
pausing only once to
inquire into Sol's predicament.
He described the hitchhiker
incident, but Coogan
listened stoically. He murmured
something about the
Troopers, and shuffled alongside
the puffing fat man.
Sol soon realized that their
destination was a barber shop.
Dawes cupped his hands
over the plate glass and
peered inside. Gold letters on
the glass advertised: HAIRCUT
SHAVE & MASSAGE
PARLOR. He reported: "Nobody
in the shop. Must be
upstairs."
The
fat man rang the
bell. It was a while before an
answer came.
It was a reedy woman in a
housecoat, her hair in curlers,
her eyes red and swollen.
"Now, now," Dawes said
gently. "Don't you take on
like that, Mrs. Brundage. You
heard the charges. It hadda
be this way."
"My poor Vincent," she
sobbed.
"Better let us up," the
Sheriff said kindly. "No use
just lettin' him lay there,
Mrs. Brundage."
"He didn't mean no harm,"
the woman snuffled. "He was
just purely ornery, Vincent
was. Just plain mean stubborn."
"The law's the law," the
fat man sighed.
Sol couldn't hold himself
in.
"What law? Who's dead?
How did it happen?"
Dawes looked at him disgustedly.
"Now is it any of your business? I mean, is it?"
"I don't know," Sol said
miserably.
"You better stay out of
this," the Sheriff warned.
"This is a local matter, young
man. You better stay in the
shop while we go up."
They filed past him and the
crying Mrs. Brundage.
When they were out of
sight, Sol pleaded with her.
"What happened? How did
your husband die?"
"Please ..."
"You must tell me! Was it
something to do with Armagon?
Do you dream about the
place, too?"
She was shocked at the
question. "Of course!"
"And your husband? Did
he have the same dream?"
Fresh tears resulted. "Can't
you leave me alone?" She
turned her back. "I got things
to do. You can make yourself
comfortable—" She indicated
the barber chairs, and left
through the back door.
Sol looked after her, and
then ambled over to the first
chair and slipped into the
high seat. His reflection in
the mirror, strangely gray in
the dim light, made him
groan. His clothes were a
mess, and he needed a shave.
If only Brundage had been
alive ...
He leaped out of the chair
as voices sounded behind the
door. Dawes was kicking it
open with his foot, his arms
laden with two rather large
feet, still encased in bedroom
slippers. Charlie was at the
other end of the burden,
which appeared to be a middle-aged
man in pajamas. The
Sheriff followed the trio up
with a sad, undertaker expression.
Behind him came Mrs.
Brundage, properly weeping.
"We'll take him to the funeral
parlor," Dawes said,
breathing hard. "Weighs a
ton, don't he?"
"What killed him?" Sol
said.
"Heart attack."
The fat man chuckled.
The tableau was grisly. Sol
looked away, towards the
comfortingly mundane atmosphere
of the barber shop. But
even the sight of the thick-padded
chairs, the shaving
mugs on the wall, the neat
rows of cutting instruments,
seemed grotesque and morbid.
"Listen," Sol said, as they
went through the doorway.
"About my car—"
The Sheriff turned and regarded
him lugubriously.
"Your car ? Young man, ain't
you got no respect ?"
Sol swallowed hard and fell
silent. He went outside with
them, the woman slamming
the barber-shop door behind
him. He waited in front of
the building while the men
toted away the corpse to some
new destination.
He
took a walk.
The town was just coming
to life. People were strolling
out of their houses, commenting
on the weather, chuckling
amiably about local affairs.
Kids on bicycles were beginning
to appear, jangling the
little bells and hooting to
each other. A woman, hanging
wash in the back yard,
called out to him, thinking
he was somebody else.
He found a little park, no
more than twenty yards in
circumference, centered
around a weatherbeaten monument
of some unrecognizable
military figure. Three
old men took their places on
the bench that circled the
General, and leaned on their
canes.
Sol was a civil engineer.
But he made like a reporter.
"Pardon me, sir." The old
man, leathery-faced, with a
fine yellow moustache, looked
at him dumbly. "Have you
ever heard of Armagon?"
"You a stranger?"
"Yes."
"Thought so."
Sol repeated the question.
"Course I did. Been goin'
there ever since I was a kid.
Night-times, that is."
"How—I mean, what kind
of place is it?"
"Said you're a stranger?"
"Yes."
"Then 'tain't your business."
That was that.
He left the park, and wandered
into a thriving luncheonette.
He tried questioning
the man behind the counter,
who merely snickered and
said: "You stayin' with the
Dawes, ain't you? Better ask
Willie, then. He knows the
place better than anybody."
He asked about the execution,
and the man stiffened.
"Don't think I can talk
about that. Fella broke one of
the Laws; that's about it.
Don't see where you come
into it."
At eleven o'clock, he returned
to the Dawes residence,
and found Mom in the
kitchen, surrounded by the
warm nostalgic odor of home-baked
bread. She told him
that her husband had left a
message for the stranger, informing
him that the State
Police would be around to get
his story.
He waited in the house,
gloomily turning the pages of
the local newspaper, searching
for references to Armagon.
He found nothing.
At eleven-thirty, a brown-faced
State Trooper came to
call, and Sol told his story.
He was promised nothing,
and told to stay in town until
he was contacted again by
the authorities.
Mom fixed him a light
lunch, the greatest feature of
which was some hot biscuits
she plucked out of the oven.
It made him feel almost normal.
He wandered around the
town some more after lunch,
trying to spark conversation
with the residents.
He learned little.
At
five-thirty, he returned
to the Dawes house, and was
promptly leaped upon by
little Sally.
"Hi! Hi! Hi!" she said,
clutching his right leg and
almost toppling him over.
"We had a party in school. I
had chocolate cake. You goin'
to stay with us?"
"Just another night," Sol
told her, trying to shake the
girl off. "If it's okay with
your folks. They haven't
found my car yet."
"Sally!" Mom was peering
out of the screen door. "You
let Mr. Becker alone and go
wash. Your Pa will be home
soon."
"Oh, pooh," the girl said,
her pigtails swinging. "Do
you got a girlfriend, mister?"
"No." Sol struggled towards
the house with her
dead weight on his leg.
"Would you mind? I can't
walk."
"Would you be my boyfriend?"
"Well, we'll talk about it.
If you let go my leg."
Inside the house, she said:
"We're having pot roast. You
stayin'?"
"Of course Mr. Becker's
stayin'," Mom said. "He's our
guest."
"That's very kind of you,"
Sol said. "I really wish you'd
let me pay something—"
"Don't want to hear another
word about pay."
Mr. Dawes
came home an
hour later, looking tired.
Mom pecked him lightly on
the forehead. He glanced at
the evening paper, and then
spoke to Sol.
"Hear you been asking
questions, Mr. Becker."
Sol nodded, embarrassed.
"Guess I have. I'm awfully
curious about this Armagon
place. Never heard of anything
like it before."
Dawes grunted. "You ain't
a reporter?"
"Oh, no. I'm an engineer. I
was just satisfying my own
curiosity."
"Uh-huh." Dawes looked
reflective. "You wouldn't be
thinkin' about writing us up
or anything. I mean, this is a
pretty private affair."
"Writing it up?" Sol
blinked. "I hadn't thought of
it. But you'll have to admit—it's
sure interesting."
"Yeah," Dawes said narrowly.
"I guess it would be."
"Supper!" Mom called.
After the meal, they spent
a quiet evening at home. Sally
went to bed, screaming her
reluctance, at eight-thirty.
Mom, dozing in the big chair
near the fireplace, padded upstairs
at nine. Then Dawes
yawned widely, stood up, and
said goodnight at quarter-of-ten.
He paused in the doorway
before leaving.
"I'd think about that," he
said. "Writing it up, I mean.
A lot of folks would think
you were just plum crazy."
Sol laughed feebly. "I
guess they would at that."
"Goodnight," Dawes said.
"Goodnight."
He read Sally's copy of Treasure Island for about
half an hour. Then he undressed,
made himself comfortable
on the sofa, snuggled
under the soft blanket
that Mom had provided, and
shut his eyes.
He reviewed the events of
the day before dropping off
to sleep. The troublesome
Sally. The strange dream
world of Armagon. The visit
to the barber shop. The removal
of Brundage's body.
The conversations with the
townspeople. Dawes' suspicious
attitude ...
Then sleep came.
He
was flanked by marble
pillars, thrusting towards
a high-domed ceiling.
The room stretched long
and wide before him, the
walls bedecked in stunning
purple draperies.
He whirled at the sound of
footsteps, echoing stridently
on the stone floor. Someone
was running towards him.
It was Sally, pigtails
streaming out behind her, the
small body wearing a flowing
white toga. She was shrieking,
laughing as she skittered
past him, clutching a gleaming
gold helmet.
He called out to her, but
she was too busy outdistancing
her pursuer. It was Sheriff
Coogan, puffing and huffing,
the metal-and-gold cloth
uniform ludicrous on his
lanky frame.
"Consarn kid!" he wheezed.
"Gimme my hat!"
Mom was following him,
her stout body regal in scarlet
robes. "Sally! You give
Sir Coogan his helmet! You
hear?"
"Mrs. Dawes!" Sol said.
"Why, Mr. Becker! How
nice to see you again! Pa! Pa! Look who's here!"
Willie Dawes appeared. No! Sol thought. This was King Dawes; nothing else
could explain the magnificence
of his attire.
"Yes," Dawes said craftily.
"So I see. Welcome to Armagon,
Mr. Becker."
"Armagon?" Sol gaped.
"Then this is the place
you've been dreaming about?"
"Yep," the King said. "And
now you're in it, too."
"Then I'm only dreaming!"
Charlie, the fat man,
clumsy as ever in his robes of
State, said: "So that's the
snooper, eh?"
"Yep," Dawes chuckled.
"Think you better round up
the Knights."
Sol said: "The Knights?"
"Exelution! Exelution!"
Sally shrieked.
"Now wait a minute—"
Charlie shouted.
Running feet, clanking of
armor. Sol backed up against
a pillar. "Now look here.
You've gone far enough—"
"Not quite," said the King.
The Knights stepped forward.
"Wait!" Sol screamed.
Familiar faces, under shining
helmets, moved towards
him; the tips of sharp-pointed
spears gleaming wickedly.
And Sol Becker wondered—would
he ever awake?
|
What is the plot of the story?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Serpent River by Don Wilcox.
Relevant chunks:
THE SERPENT RIVER
By Don Wilcox
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Other Worlds May 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The Code was rigid—no fraternization with the peoples of other planets! Earth wanted no "shotgun weddings" of the worlds of space!
"Split" Campbell and I brought our ship down to a quiet landing on the summit of a mile-wide naked rock, and I turned to the telescope for a closer view of the strange thing we had come to see.
It shone, eighteen or twenty miles away, in the light of the late afternoon sun. It was a long silvery serpent-like
something
that crawled slowly over the planet's surface.
There was no way of guessing how large it was, at this distance. It might have been a rope rolled into shape out of a mountain—or a chain of mountains. It might have been a river of bluish-gray dough that had shaped itself into a great cable. Its diameter? If it had been a hollow tube, cities could have flowed through it upright without bending their skyscrapers. It was, to the eye, an endless rope of cloud oozing along the surface of the land. No, not cloud, for it had the compactness of solid substance.
We could see it at several points among the low foothills. Even from this distance we could guess that it had been moving along its course for centuries. Moving like a sluggish snake. It followed a deep-worn path between the nearer hills and the high jagged mountains on the horizon.
What was it?
"Split" Campbell and I had been sent here to learn the answers. Our sponsor was the well known "EGGWE" (the Earth-Galaxy Good Will Expeditions.) We were under the EGGWE Code. We were the first expedition to this planet, but we had come equipped with two important pieces of advance information. The Keynes-Roy roving cameras (unmanned) had brought back to the Earth choice items of fact about various parts of the universe. From these photos we knew (1) that man lived on this planet, a humanoid closely resembling the humans of the Earth; and
(2) that a vast cylindrical "rope" crawled the surface of this land, continuously, endlessly.
We had intentionally landed at what we guessed would be a safe distance from the rope. If it were a living thing, like a serpent, we preferred not to disturb it. If it gave off heat or poisonous gases or deadly vibrations, we meant to keep our distance. If, on the other hand, it proved to be some sort of vegetable—a vine of glacier proportions—or a river of some silvery, creamy substance—we would move in upon it gradually, gathering facts as we progressed. I could depend upon
"Split" to record all observable phenomena with the accuracy of split-hairs.
Split was working at the reports like a drudge at this very moment.
I looked up from the telescope, expecting him to be waiting his turn eagerly. I misguessed. He didn't even glance up from his books. Rare young Campbell! Always a man of duty, never a man of impulse!
"Here Campbell, take a look at the 'rope'."
"Before I finish the reports, sir? If I recall our Code, Section Two, Order of Duties upon Landing: A—"
"Forget the Code. Take a look at the rope while the sun's on it.... See it?"
"Yes sir."
"Can you see it's moving? See the little clouds of dust coming up from under its belly?"
"Yes sir. An excellent view, Captain Linden."
"What do you think of it, Split? Ever see a sight like that before?"
"No sir."
"Well, what about it? Any comments?"
Split answered me with an enthusiastic, "By gollies, sir!" Then, with restraint, "It's precisely what I expected from the photographs, sir. Any orders, sir?"
"Relax, Split! That's the order. Relax!"
"Thanks—thanks, Cap!" That was his effort to sound informal, though coming from him it was strained. His training had given him an exaggerated notion of the importance of dignity and discipline.
He was naturally so conscientious it was painful. And to top it all, his scientific habit of thought made him want to stop and weigh his words even when speaking of casual things such as how much sugar he required in his coffee.
Needless to say, I had kidded him unmercifully over these traits. Across the millions of miles of space that we had recently traveled
(our first voyage together) I had amused myself at his expense. I had sworn that he would find, in time, that he couldn't even trim his fingernails without calipers, or comb his hair without actually physically splitting the hairs that cropped up in the middle of the part. That was when I had nicknamed him "Split"—and the wide ears that stuck out from his stubble-cut blond hair had glowed with the pink of selfconsciousness. Plainly, he liked the kidding. But if I thought I could rescue him from the weight of dignity and duty, I was mistaken.
Now he had turned the telescope for a view far to the right. He paused.
"What do you see?" I asked.
"I cannot say definitely. The exact scientific classification of the object I am observing would call for more detailed scrutiny—"
"You're seeing some sort of object?"
"Yes sir."
"What sort of object?"
"A living creature, sir—upright, wearing clothes—"
"A
man
?"
"To all appearances, sir—"
"You bounder, give me that telescope!"
2.
If you have explored the weird life of many a planet, as I have, you can appreciate the deep sense of excitement that comes over me when, looking out at a new world for the first time, I see a man-like animal.
Walking upright!
Wearing adornments in the nature of clothing!
I gazed, and my lungs filled with the breath of wonderment. A man! Across millions of miles of space—a man, like the men of the Earth.
Six times before in my life of exploration I had gazed at new realms within the approachable parts of our universe, but never before had the living creatures borne such wonderful resemblance to the human life of our Earth.
A man!
He might have been creeping on all fours.
He might have been skulking like a lesser animal.
He might have been entirely naked.
He was none of these—and at the very first moment of viewing him I felt a kinship toward him. Oh, he was primitive in appearance—but had my ancestors not been the same? Was this not a mirror of my own race a million years or so ago? I sensed that my own stream of life had somehow crossed with his in ages gone by. How? Who can ever know? By what faded charts of the movements through the sky will man ever be able to retrace relationships of forms of life among planets?
"Get ready to go out and meet him, Campbell," I said. "He's a friend."
Split Campbell gave me a look as if to say, Sir, you don't even know what sort of animal he is, actually, much less whether he's friendly or murderous.
"There are some things I can sense on first sight, Campbell. Take my word for it, he's a friend."
"I didn't say anything, sir."
"Good. Don't. Just get ready."
"We're going to go
out
—?"
"Yes," I said. "Orders."
"And meet both of them?" Split was at the telescope.
"Both?" I took the instrument from him. Both! "Well!"
"They seem to be coming out of the ground," Split said. "I see no signs of habitation, but apparently we've landed on top of an underground city—though I hasten to add that this is only an hypothesis."
"One's a male and the other's a female," I said.
"Another hypothesis," said Split.
The late evening sunshine gave us a clear view of our two "friends". They were fully a mile away. Split was certain they had not seen our ship, and to this conclusion I was in agreement. They had apparently come up out of the barren rock hillside to view the sunset. I studied them through the telescope while Split checked over equipment for a hike.
The man's walk was unhurried. He moved thoughtfully, one might guess. His bare chest and legs showed him to be statuesque in mold, cleanly muscled, fine of bone. His skin was almost the color of the cream-colored robe which flowed from his back, whipping lightly in the breeze. He wore a brilliant red sash about his middle, and this was matched by a red headdress that came down over his shoulders as a circular mantle.
The girl stood several yards distant, watching him. This was some sort of ritual, no doubt. He was not concerned with her, but with the setting sun. Its rays were almost horizontal, knifing through a break in the distant mountain skyline. He went through some routine motions, his moving arms highlighted by the lemon-colored light of evening.
The girl approached him. Two other persons appeared from somewhere back of her.... Three.... Four.... Five....
"Where do they come from?" Split had paused in the act of checking equipment to take his turn at the telescope. If he had not done so, I might not have made a discovery. The landscape was
moving
.
The long shadows that I had not noticed through the telescope were a prominent part of the picture I saw through the ship's window when I looked out across the scene with the naked eye. The shadows were moving.
They were tree shadows. They were moving toward the clearing where the crowd gathered. And the reason for their movement was that the trees themselves were moving.
"Notice anything?" I asked Split.
"The crowd is growing. We've certainly landed on top of a city." He gazed. "They're coming from underground."
Looking through the telescope, obviously he didn't catch the view of the moving trees.
"Notice anything else unusual?" I persisted.
"Yes. The females—I'm speaking hypothetically—but they
must
be females—are all wearing puffy white fur ornaments around their elbows. I wonder why?"
"You haven't noticed the trees?"
"The females are quite attractive," said Split.
I forgot about the moving trees, then, and took over the telescope. Mobile trees were not new to me. I had seen similar vegetation on other planets—"sponge-trees"—which possessed a sort of muscular quality. If these were similar, they were no doubt feeding along the surface of the slope below the rocky plateau. The people in the clearing beyond paid no attention to them.
I studied the crowd of people. Only the leader wore the brilliant garb. The others were more scantily clothed. All were handsome of build. The lemon-tinted sunlight glanced off the muscular shoulders of the males and the soft curves of the females.
"Those furry elbow ornaments on the females," I said to Split,
"they're for protection. The caves they live in must be narrow, so they pad their elbows."
"Why don't they pad their shoulders? They don't have anything on their shoulders."
"Are you complaining?"
We became fascinated in watching, from the seclusion of our ship. If we were to walk out, or make any sounds, we might have interrupted their meeting. Here they were in their native ritual of sunset, not knowing that people from another world watched. The tall leader must be making a speech. They sat around him in little huddles. He moved his arms in calm, graceful gestures.
"They'd better break it up!" Split said suddenly. "The jungles are moving in on them."
"They're spellbound," I said. "They're used to sponge-trees. Didn't you ever see moving trees?"
Split said sharply, "Those trees are marching! They're an army under cover. Look!"
I saw, then. The whole line of advancing vegetation was camouflage for a sneak attack. And all those natives sitting around in meeting were as innocent as a flock of sitting ducks. Split Campbell's voice was edged with alarm. "Captain! Those worshippers—how can we warn them? Oh-oh! Too late. Look!"
All at once the advancing sponge-trees were tossed back over the heads of the savage band concealed within. They were warriors—fifty or more of them—with painted naked bodies. They dashed forward in a wide semicircle, swinging crude weapons, bent on slaughter.
3.
They were waving short clubs or whips with stones tied to the ends. They charged up the slope, about sixty yards, swinging their weird clubs with a threat of death.
Wild disorder suddenly struck the audience. Campbell and I believed we were about to witness a massacre.
"Captain—
Jim
! You're not going to let this happen!"
Our sympathies had gone to the first groups, the peaceable ones. I had the same impulse as Campbell—to do something—anything! Yet here we sat in our ship, more than half a mile from our thirty-five or forty
"friends" in danger.
Our friends were panicked. But they didn't take flight. They didn't duck for the holes in the rocky hilltop. Instead, they rallied and packed themselves around their tall leader. They stood, a defiant wall.
"Can we shoot a ray, Jim?"
I didn't answer. Later I would recall that Split
could
drop his dignity under excitement—his "Captain Linden" and "sir." Just now he wanted any sort of split-second order.
We saw the naked warriors run out in a wide circle. They spun and weaved, they twirled their deadly clubs, they danced grotesquely. They were closing in. Closer and closer. It was all their party.
"Jim, can we shoot?"
"Hit number sixteen, Campbell."
Split touched the number sixteen signal.
The ship's siren wailed out over the land.
You could tell when the sound struck them. The circle of savage ones suddenly fell apart. The dancing broke into the wildest contortions you ever saw. As if they'd been spanked by a wave of electricity. The siren scream must have sounded like an animal cry from an unknown world. The attackers ran for the sponge-trees. The rootless jungle came to life. It jerked and jumped spasmodically down the slope. And our siren kept right on singing.
"Ready for that hike, Campbell? Give me my equipment coat." I got into it. I looked back to the telescope. The tall man of the party had behaved with exceptional calmness. He had turned to stare in our direction from the instant the siren sounded. He could no doubt make out the lines of our silvery ship in the shadows. Slowly, deliberately, he marched over the hilltop toward us.
Most of his party now scampered back to the safety of their hiding places in the ground. But a few—the brave ones, perhaps, or the officials of his group—came with him.
"He needs a stronger guard than that," Campbell grumbled.
Sixteen was still wailing. "Set it for ten minutes and come on," I said. Together we descended from the ship.
We took into our nostrils the tangy air, breathing fiercely, at first. We slogged along over the rock surface feeling our weight to be one-and-a-third times normal. We glanced down the slope apprehensively. We didn't want any footraces. The trees, however, were still retreating. Our siren would sing on for another eight minutes. And in case of further danger, we were equipped with the standard pocket arsenal of special purpose capsule bombs.
Soon we came face to face with the tall, stately old leader in the cream-and-red cloak.
Split and I stood together, close enough to exchange comments against the siren's wail. Fine looking people, we observed. Smooth faces. Like the features of Earth men. These creatures could walk down any main street back home. With a bit of makeup they would pass.
"Notice, Captain, they have strange looking eyes." "Very smooth."
"It's because they have no eyebrows ... no eye lashes." "Very smooth—handsome—attractive."
Then the siren went off.
The leader stood before me, apparently unafraid. He seemed to be waiting for me to explain my presence. His group of twelve gathered in close.
I had met such situations with ease before. "EGGWE" explorers come equipped. I held out a gift toward the leader. It was a singing medallion attached to a chain. It was disc-shaped, patterned after a large silver coin. It made music at the touch of a button. In clear, dainty bell tones it rang out its one tune, "Trail of Stars."
As it played I held it up for inspection. I placed it around my own neck, then offered it to the leader. I thought he was smiling. He was not overwhelmed by the "magic" of this gadget. He saw it for what it was, a token of friendship. There was a keenness about him that I liked. Yes, he was smiling. He bent his head forward and allowed me to place the gift around his neck.
"Tomboldo," he said, pointing to himself.
Split and I tried to imitate his breathy accents as we repeated aloud,
"Tomboldo."
We pointed to ourselves, in turn, and spoke our own names. And then, as the names of the others were pronounced, we tried to memorize each breathy sound that was uttered. I was able to remember four or five of them. One was Gravgak.
Gravgak's piercing eyes caused me to notice him. Suspicious eyes? I did not know these people's expressions well enough to be sure.
Gravgak was a guard, tall and muscular, whose arms and legs were painted with green and black diamond designs.
By motions and words we didn't understand, we inferred that we were invited to accompany the party back home, inside the hill, where we would be safe. I nodded to Campbell. "It's our chance to be guests of Tomboldo." Nothing could have pleased us more. For our big purpose—to understand the Serpent River—would be forwarded greatly if we could learn, through the people, what its meanings were. To analyze the river's substance, estimate its rate, its weight, its temperature, and to map its course—these facts were only a part of the information we sought. The fuller story would be to learn how the inhabitants of this planet regarded it: whether they loved or shunned it, and what legends they may have woven around it. All this knowledge would be useful when future expeditions of men from the Earth followed us (through EGGWE) for an extension of peaceful trade relationships.
Tomboldo depended upon the guard Gravgak to make sure that the way was safe. Gravgak was supposed to keep an eye on the line of floating trees that had taken flight down the hillside. Danger still lurked there, we knew. And now the siren that had frightened off the attack was silent. Our ship, locked against invaders, could be forgotten. We were guests of Tomboldo.
Gravgak was our guard, but he didn't work at it. He was too anxious to hear all the talk. In the excitement of our meeting, everyone ignored the growing darkness, the lurking dangers. Gravgak confronted us with agitated jabbering:
"Wollo—yeeta—vo—vandartch—vandartch! Grr—see—o—see—o—see—o!"
"See—o—see—o—see—o," one of the others echoed.
It began to make sense. They wanted us to repeat the siren noises. The enemy had threatened their lives. There could very well have been a wholesale slaughter. But as long as we could make the "see—o—see—o" we were all safe.
Split and I exchanged glances. He touched his hand to the equipment jacket, to remind me we were armed with something more miraculous than a yowling siren.
"See—o—see—o—see—o!" Others of Tomboldo's party echoed the demand. They must have seen the sponge-trees again moving toward our path.
"
See—o—see—o!
"
Our peaceful march turned into a spasm of terror. The sponge-trees came rushing up the slope, as if borne by a sudden gust of wind. They bounced over our path, and the war party spilled out of them.
Shouting. A wild swinging of clubs. And no cat-and-mouse tricks. No deliberate circling and closing in. An outright attack. Naked bodies gleaming in the semi-darkness. Arms swinging weapons, choosing the nearest victims. The luminous rocks on the ends of the clubs flashed. Shouting, screeching, hurling their clubs. The whizzing fury filled the air.
I hurled a capsule bomb. It struck at the base of a bouncing sponge-tree, and blew the thing to bits.
The attackers ran back into a huddle, screaming. Then they came forward, rushing defiantly.
Our muscular guard, Gravgak was too bold. He had picked up one of their clubs and he ran toward their advance, and to all of Tomboldo's party it must have appeared that he was bravely rushing to his death. Yet the gesture of the club he swung so wildly could have been intended as a
warning
! It could have meant, Run back, you fools, or these strange devils will throw fire at you.
I threw fire. And so did my lieutenant. He didn't wait for orders, thank goodness. He knew it was their lives or ours. Zip, zip, zip—BLANG-BLANG-BLANG! The bursts of fire at their feet ripped the rocks. The spray caught them and knocked them back. Three or four warriors in the fore ranks were torn up in the blasts. Others were flattened—and those who were able, ran.
They ran, not waiting for the cover of sponge-trees. Not bothering to pick up their clubs.
But the operation was not a complete success. We had suffered a serious casualty. The guard Gravgak. He had rushed out too far, and the first blast of fire and rock had knocked him down. Now Tomboldo and others of the party hovered over him.
His eyes opened a little. I thought he was staring at me, drilling me with suspicion. I worked over him with medicines. The crowd around us stood back in an attitude of awe as Split and I applied ready bandages, and held a stimulant to his nostrils that made him breath back to consciousness.
Suddenly he came to life. Lying there on his back, with the club still at his fingertips, he swung up on one elbow. The swift motion caused a cry of joy from the crowd. I heard a little of it—and then blacked out. For as the muscular Gravgak moved, his fingers closed over the handle of the club. It whizzed upward with him—apparently all by accident. The stone that dangled from the end of the club crashed into my head.
I went into instant darkness. Darkness, and a long, long silence.
4.
Vauna, the beautiful daughter of Tomboldo, came into my life during the weeks that I lay unconscious.
I must have talked aloud much during those feverish hours of darkness.
"Campbell!" I would call out of a nightmare. "Campbell, we're about to land. Is everything set? Check the instruments again, Campbell."
"S-s-sh!" The low hush of Split Campbell's voice would somehow penetrate my dream.
The voices about me were soft. My dreams echoed the soft female voices of this new, strange language.
"Campbell, are you there?... Have you forgotten the Code, Campbell?"
"Quiet, Captain."
"Who is it that's swabbing my face? I can't see."
"It's Vauna. She's smiling at you, Captain. Can't you see her?"
"Is this the pretty one we saw through the telescope?"
"One of them."
"And what of the other? There were two together. I remember—"
"Omosla is here too. She's Vauna's attendant. We're all looking after you, Captain Linden. Did you know I performed an operation to relieve the pressure on your brain? You must get well, Captain." The words of Campbell came through insistently.
After a silence that may have lasted for hours or days, I said,
"Campbell, you haven't forgot the EGGWE Code?"
"Of course not, Captain."
"Section Four?"
"Section Four," he repeated in a low voice, as if to pacify me and put me to sleep. "Conduct of EGGWE agents toward native inhabitants: A, No agent shall enter into any diplomatic agreement that shall be construed as binding—"
I interrupted. "Clause D?"
He picked it up. "D, no agent shall enter into a marriage contract with any native.... H-m-m. You're not trying to warn me, are you, Captain Linden? Or are you warning
yourself
?"
At that moment my eyes opened a little. Swimming before my blurred vision was the face of Vauna. I did remember her—yes, she must have haunted my dreams, for now my eyes burned in an effort to define her features more clearly. This was indeed Vauna, who had been one of the party of twelve, and had walked beside her father in the face of the attack. Deep within my subconscious the image of her beautiful face and figure had lingered. I murmured a single word of answer to Campbell's question. "Myself."
In the hours that followed, I came to know the soft footsteps of Vauna. The caverns in which she and her father and all these Benzendella people lived were pleasantly warm and fragrant. My misty impressions of their life about me were like the first impressions of a child learning about the world into which he has been born.
Sometimes I would hear Vauna and her attendant Omosla talking together. Often when Campbell would stop in this part of the cavern to inquire about me, Omosla would drop in also. She and Campbell were learning to converse in simple words. And Vauna and I—yes. If I could only avoid blacking out.
I wanted to see her.
So often my eyes would refuse to open. A thousand nightmares. Space ships shooting through meteor swarms. Stars like eyes. Eyes like stars. The eyes of Vauna, the daughter of Tomboldo. The sensitive stroke of Vauna's fingers, brushing my forehead, pressing my hand.
I regained my health gradually.
"Are you quite awake?" Vauna would ask me in her musical Benzendella words. "You speak better today. Your friend Campbell has brought you more recordings of our language, so you can learn to speak more. My father is eager to talk with you. But you must sleep more. You are still weak."
It gave me a weird sensation to awaken in the night, trying to adjust myself to my surroundings. The Benzendellas were sleep-singers. By night they murmured mysterious little songs through their sleep. Strange harmonies whispered through the caves.
And if I stirred restlessly, the footsteps of Vauna might come to me through the darkness. In her sleeping garments she would come to me, faintly visible in the pink light that filtered through from some corridor. She would whisper melodious Benzendella words and tell me to go back to sleep, and I would drift into the darkness of my endless dreams.
The day came when I awakened to see both Vauna and her father standing before me. Stern old Tomboldo, with his chalk-smooth face and not a hint of an eyebrow or eyelash, rapped his hand against my ribs, shook the fiber bed lightly, and smiled. From a pocket concealed in his flowing cape, he drew forth the musical watch, touched the button, and played, "Trail of Stars."
"I have learned to talk," I said.
"You have had a long sleep."
"I am well again. See, I can almost walk." But as I started to rise, the wave of blackness warned me, and I restrained my ambition. "I will walk soon."
"We will have much to talk about. Your friend has pointed to the stars and told me a strange story of your coming. We have walked around the ship. He has told me how it rides through the sky. I can hardly make myself believe." Tomboldo's eyes cast upward under the strong ridge of forehead where the eyebrows should have been. He was evidently trying to visualize the flight of a space ship. "We will have much to tell each other."
"I hope so," I said. "Campbell and I came to learn about the
serpent river
." I resorted to my own language for the last two words, not knowing the Benzendella equivalent.
I
made an eel-like motion with my arm. But they didn't understand. And before I could explain, the footsteps of other Benzendellas approached, and presently I looked around to see that quite an audience had gathered. The most prominent figure of the new group was the big muscular guard of the black and green diamond markings—Gravgak.
"You get well?" Gravgak said to me. His eyes drilled me closely.
"I get well," I said.
"The blow on the head," he said, "was not meant."
I looked at him. Everyone was looking at him, and I knew this was meant to be an occasion of apology. But the light of fire in Vauna's eyes told me that she did not believe. He saw her look, and his own eyes flashed darts of defiance. With an abrupt word to me, he wheeled and started off. "Get well!"
The crowd of men and women made way for him. But in the arched doorway he turned. "Vauna. I am ready to speak to you alone."
She started. I reached and barely touched her hand. She stopped. "I will talk with you later, Gravgak."
"Now!" he shouted. "Alone."
He stalked off. A moment later Vauna, after exchanging a word with her father, excused herself from the crowd and followed Gravgak.
From the way those in the room looked, I knew this must be a dramatic moment. It was as if she had acknowledged Gravgak as her master—or her lover. He had called for her. She had followed.
But her old father was still the master. He stepped toward the door.
"Vauna!... Gravgak!... Come back."
(I will always wonder what might have happened if he hadn't called them! Was my distrust of Gravgak justified? Had I become merely a jealous lover—or was I right in my hunch that the tall muscular guard was a potential traitor?)
Vauna reappeared at once. I believe she was glad that she had been called back.
Gravgak came sullenly. At the edge of the crowd in the arched doorway he stood scowling.
"While we are together," old Tomboldo said quietly, looking around at the assemblage, "I must tell you the decision of the council. Soon we will move back to the other part of the world."
There were low murmurs of approval through the chamber.
"We will wait a few days," Tomboldo went on, "until our new friend—" he pointed to me—"is well enough to travel. We would never leave him here to the mercy of the savage ones. He and his helper came through the sky in time to save us from being destroyed. We must never forget this kindness. When we ascend the
Kao-Wagwattl
, the ever moving
rope of life
, these friends shall come with us. On the back of the Kao-Wagwattl
they shall ride with us across the land
."
Question:
What is the plot of the story?
Answer:
|
[
"Captain Linden and his lieutenant \"Split\" Campbell make up the first manned expedition from Earth to this particular planet, aiming to investigate a large silver river on its surface. The seemingly-endless silvery strip that traveled the planet's surface was unidentifiable as of yet. They see the river-like thing early on, but Campbell spots a humanoid through his telescope--this being is much like a human man, including the fact that he wore clothing. Captain Linden decides it's time for introductions, as if he senses he can trust this being, but they watch as a female and then many other people join the first man on the surface, seemingly coming out of an underground city. Linden and Campbell think their ship is out of sight, and watch a ritual that the man is performing to the setting sun. The crowd of people continues to increase, and Linden notices that the landscape is moving: trees are shifting in the ground. He and Campbell stay in the ship and observe the various types of clothing and the ritual itself, as well as the moving trees which seemed to be moving to attack the people. They are indeed warriors starting an attack, and started swinging weapons. Linden tells Campbell to start the siren on their ship to scare away the attackers, and the first man they'd seen, presumably the leader, starts towards the ship. Once they are close enough, it is obvious that the humanoids don't have eyebrows or eye lashes. Captain Linden hands the leader a medallion that plays a song, as a token of friendship. Tomboldo, the leader, starts a round of introductions through a lot of gesturing. Linden hopes to learn about the Serpent River through the people to understand its cultural significance, and these people start to ask about the siren noises. The warriors attack again and panic ensues, pushing the humans to use weapons this time. Gravgak, the guard who had been escorting the humans, is knocked down. As Linden tries to tend to him, Gravgak knocks him out with his club. Linden is unconscious for a few weeks, and Vauna, Tomboldo's daughter, spends a lot of time by the Captian's side. Linden reminds Campbell that they weren't allowed to marry anyone from this planet, but mostly in an effort to warn himself to be careful around Vauna. He learns that these people are called the Benzendellas. Tomboldo is baffled by the technology that the humans have, but Linden is not able to communicate his questions about the Serpent River. He sees Gravgak, who apologizes for the accidental injury, but from Vauna's reaction Linden is not sure if he is telling the truth. Gravgak insists on talking to Vauna in private, but Vauna's father calls them back. It is Tomboldo's thanks to the humans that gives a glimpse into the meaning of the Serpent River: he says the humans will ride with them on the rope of life, which they call Kao-Wagwattl.",
"The story relates the experience of two agents who travel to an unnamed planet for Earth-Galaxy Good Will Expeditions (EGGWE). An unmanned camera has brought pictures from the planet back to Earth, showing two features of particular interest: 1) a human-like species, the Benzendella, living there, and 2) a rope-like, silvery undulating river. Captain Linden is the commander of the mission; his lieutenant is “Split” Campbell. After traveling millions of miles to reach the planet, the men land and use their telescope to check their surroundings before alighting from the spaceship. They see the river and the human-like beings who look like human ancestors from a million years ago. As they watch, the leader of the humans seems to perform a kind of ritual, but then, Linden notices some trees moving uphill and watches in horror as warriors toss the trees aside and launch an attack on the humans using clubs or whips with stones tied to the ends. To avert a massacre, Linden orders Campbell to hit the siren, which startles the attackers so that they retreat. Linden and Campbell then approach the people and give the leader, Tomboldo, a musical medallion on a chain. Introductions are exchanged, and some of the humans make the siren sound, indicating they want to hear it again, but the attackers return. Linden throws a capsule bomb at them, making them fall back briefly, but they quickly resume their attack. Finally, Linden and Campbell throw fire at the attackers, wounding many of them, and they retreat. One of the Benzendella men who acts as a guard, Gravgak, is injured, and Linden and Campbell treat and wrap his wounds; when they finish, they use smelling salts to rouse him, and he jumps up swinging one of the clubs he has picked up. The rock on the end of it hits Linden, causing a head injury and knocking him unconscious. While he is recuperating, Tomboldo’s daughter Vauna takes care of him, and when Linden regains consciousness, he falls in love with her and has to remind himself of Clause D of the EGGWE Code that restricts marriage between agents and natives. Gravgak visits him to say that he did not intentionally hit Linden with the rock, but Linden doubts his sincerity. Gravgak then orders Vauna to speak with him in private, but her father stops them to announce that the council has decided they will move back to the other part of their world. They will travel on the rope river and want Linden and Campbell to go with them.\n",
"Captain Jim Linden and \"Split\" Campbell travel to a planet previously photographed by unmanned rovers as representatives of the EGGWE, the Earth-Galaxy Good Will Expeditions. Thier purpose is to study new planets and forge peaceful relationships with native inhabitants in order to establish trade partnerships. The Keynes-Roy cameras had captured images of humanoid natives as well as a massive, silvery \"rope\" that appeared to move along the planet's surfaces, so Linden and Campbell hope to identify the \"rope.\" They station at a safe distance from it, since they are unsure of its purpose, and, during their observations, they witness a group of native Benzendella emerge from their underground city for some kind of sunset ritual. As the group gathers around their leader--a muscular individual clothed in a cream-colored robe and red headdress--Jim and Split notice a group of trees drifting slowly over the sand towards the Benzendellas. They quickly realize the trees disguise a hostile group intending to ambush the natives. When they throw off their disguises and begin to charge, Split triggers one of the ship's sirens, and the attackers retreat back to the trees. Jim and Split walk to meet the group's leader, Tomboldo, and they offer a gift as a gesture of good will. Tomboldo has a guard, Gravgak, protect them as they make their way back to the city, and Gravgak tells them to mimic the ship's siren in order to keep the attackers at bay. However, the antagonists attack again, and Jim deploys one of his capsule bombs. Gravgak retrieves one of the attacker's clubs and runs towards them. Jim cannot decide if this is a bold move to protect the Benzendellas or a kind of warning about Jim's weapons, which would reveal Gravgak's loyalties might not be completely steadfast. When Gravgak is injured in the ensuing battle, Jim and Split revive him, and Gravgak impulsively grabs the club again and whacks Jim with it, leaving him in a state of unconsciousness. For a length of time, Jim remains in this comatose state, drifting in and out of consciousness as Split plays records of the Benzendella language and Tomboldo's daughter, Vauna, helps nurse him back to health. During this period, Jim realizes he has developed strong feelings for Vauna, and she seems to share these emotions. He tells Split to remind him of the EGGWE's Code of Conduct which bars adherents from marrying natives on planets they explore. When he awakens, Gravgak apologizes although Jim suspects the apology is insincere, and that he is either jealous of his relationship to Vauna or he is, in fact, a traitor to the Benzendellas. Tomboldo announces that because of the threat to their people, they will use the silvery \"rope of life\" called Kao-Wagwattl to find another spot to live on the planet and bring Jim and Split with them.",
"Captain Linden and his awkward and studious lieutenant “Split” Campbell arrive as the first human expedition on a strange planet. They are members of the Earth-Galaxy Good Will Expeditions (EGGWE) and Split followed their rules dutifully. Thanks to photographs, they are aware that this planet is inhabited by human-like creatures and that there is a large, serpent-like thing running through it. They land on the planet and peer through the telescope. Soon, a man and a woman rise up from the earth and stand on top of the flat, empty rock to watch the sunset. They are joined by more and more people, around 40 eventually. Split and Linden watch in awe as the leader, a man in robes and a headdress, performs some sort of ritual. Linden notices that the trees are moving towards them, nothing too unusual. He’d seen sponge-trees before on other planets. However, these trees were being used as a cover for an attack. A horde of naked warriors rushes out with clubs and circles the ceremony. Linden orders Split to hit #16, and a siren wails out from their spaceship. It shakes the warriors to their core, and they retreat. Split and Linden gather up their supplies and exit the ship. The leader, having noticed their ship during the wailing, makes his way towards them. With 10-minutes left on the wailing, Linden believes they should be safe, but they carry small bombs (specifically special-purpose capsule bombs) with them as well. \nAs they get closer, Split notices how human these creatures look, aside from the lack of eyebrows and eyelashes. Linden offers their leader a gift, a singing necklace in the shape of a coin that plays “Trail of Stars” when pressed. The leader introduces himself as Tomboldo, and each member follows. Gravgak is introduced, a large, muscular alien covered in green and black painted diamonds, and he is tasked with protecting Linden and Split. Tomboldo invites them underground, where they can speak safely. They agree, needing to know more about the Serpent River. \nThey start wailing, just like the siren, in the hopes that it would keep the attackers at bay. However, the sponge-trees started moving again and danger struck. Linden and Split threw their bombs at the warriors and took them down, but not quick enough. Gravgak was injured and lay on the ground. Split and Linden bandaged him, and when he woke up, he “accidentally” hit Linden over the head with his club. \nLinden is taken care of by Vauna, Tomboldo’s daughter, and her assistant, Omosla. He was very injured, even needing surgery performed by Split. Eventually, his health is restored and he’s caught feelings for Vauna, despite Section Four Clause D of the conduct of EGGWE. Vauna and Gravgak are potentially in a relationship, but Tomboldo does not approve. The Benzendella are sleep-singers and their song echoes in the night. Tomboldo invites Linden and Split to accompany his people on a journey to safety aboard the Kao-Wagwattl, or the Serpent River. "
] |
50923
|
THE SERPENT RIVER
By Don Wilcox
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Other Worlds May 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The Code was rigid—no fraternization with the peoples of other planets! Earth wanted no "shotgun weddings" of the worlds of space!
"Split" Campbell and I brought our ship down to a quiet landing on the summit of a mile-wide naked rock, and I turned to the telescope for a closer view of the strange thing we had come to see.
It shone, eighteen or twenty miles away, in the light of the late afternoon sun. It was a long silvery serpent-like
something
that crawled slowly over the planet's surface.
There was no way of guessing how large it was, at this distance. It might have been a rope rolled into shape out of a mountain—or a chain of mountains. It might have been a river of bluish-gray dough that had shaped itself into a great cable. Its diameter? If it had been a hollow tube, cities could have flowed through it upright without bending their skyscrapers. It was, to the eye, an endless rope of cloud oozing along the surface of the land. No, not cloud, for it had the compactness of solid substance.
We could see it at several points among the low foothills. Even from this distance we could guess that it had been moving along its course for centuries. Moving like a sluggish snake. It followed a deep-worn path between the nearer hills and the high jagged mountains on the horizon.
What was it?
"Split" Campbell and I had been sent here to learn the answers. Our sponsor was the well known "EGGWE" (the Earth-Galaxy Good Will Expeditions.) We were under the EGGWE Code. We were the first expedition to this planet, but we had come equipped with two important pieces of advance information. The Keynes-Roy roving cameras (unmanned) had brought back to the Earth choice items of fact about various parts of the universe. From these photos we knew (1) that man lived on this planet, a humanoid closely resembling the humans of the Earth; and
(2) that a vast cylindrical "rope" crawled the surface of this land, continuously, endlessly.
We had intentionally landed at what we guessed would be a safe distance from the rope. If it were a living thing, like a serpent, we preferred not to disturb it. If it gave off heat or poisonous gases or deadly vibrations, we meant to keep our distance. If, on the other hand, it proved to be some sort of vegetable—a vine of glacier proportions—or a river of some silvery, creamy substance—we would move in upon it gradually, gathering facts as we progressed. I could depend upon
"Split" to record all observable phenomena with the accuracy of split-hairs.
Split was working at the reports like a drudge at this very moment.
I looked up from the telescope, expecting him to be waiting his turn eagerly. I misguessed. He didn't even glance up from his books. Rare young Campbell! Always a man of duty, never a man of impulse!
"Here Campbell, take a look at the 'rope'."
"Before I finish the reports, sir? If I recall our Code, Section Two, Order of Duties upon Landing: A—"
"Forget the Code. Take a look at the rope while the sun's on it.... See it?"
"Yes sir."
"Can you see it's moving? See the little clouds of dust coming up from under its belly?"
"Yes sir. An excellent view, Captain Linden."
"What do you think of it, Split? Ever see a sight like that before?"
"No sir."
"Well, what about it? Any comments?"
Split answered me with an enthusiastic, "By gollies, sir!" Then, with restraint, "It's precisely what I expected from the photographs, sir. Any orders, sir?"
"Relax, Split! That's the order. Relax!"
"Thanks—thanks, Cap!" That was his effort to sound informal, though coming from him it was strained. His training had given him an exaggerated notion of the importance of dignity and discipline.
He was naturally so conscientious it was painful. And to top it all, his scientific habit of thought made him want to stop and weigh his words even when speaking of casual things such as how much sugar he required in his coffee.
Needless to say, I had kidded him unmercifully over these traits. Across the millions of miles of space that we had recently traveled
(our first voyage together) I had amused myself at his expense. I had sworn that he would find, in time, that he couldn't even trim his fingernails without calipers, or comb his hair without actually physically splitting the hairs that cropped up in the middle of the part. That was when I had nicknamed him "Split"—and the wide ears that stuck out from his stubble-cut blond hair had glowed with the pink of selfconsciousness. Plainly, he liked the kidding. But if I thought I could rescue him from the weight of dignity and duty, I was mistaken.
Now he had turned the telescope for a view far to the right. He paused.
"What do you see?" I asked.
"I cannot say definitely. The exact scientific classification of the object I am observing would call for more detailed scrutiny—"
"You're seeing some sort of object?"
"Yes sir."
"What sort of object?"
"A living creature, sir—upright, wearing clothes—"
"A
man
?"
"To all appearances, sir—"
"You bounder, give me that telescope!"
2.
If you have explored the weird life of many a planet, as I have, you can appreciate the deep sense of excitement that comes over me when, looking out at a new world for the first time, I see a man-like animal.
Walking upright!
Wearing adornments in the nature of clothing!
I gazed, and my lungs filled with the breath of wonderment. A man! Across millions of miles of space—a man, like the men of the Earth.
Six times before in my life of exploration I had gazed at new realms within the approachable parts of our universe, but never before had the living creatures borne such wonderful resemblance to the human life of our Earth.
A man!
He might have been creeping on all fours.
He might have been skulking like a lesser animal.
He might have been entirely naked.
He was none of these—and at the very first moment of viewing him I felt a kinship toward him. Oh, he was primitive in appearance—but had my ancestors not been the same? Was this not a mirror of my own race a million years or so ago? I sensed that my own stream of life had somehow crossed with his in ages gone by. How? Who can ever know? By what faded charts of the movements through the sky will man ever be able to retrace relationships of forms of life among planets?
"Get ready to go out and meet him, Campbell," I said. "He's a friend."
Split Campbell gave me a look as if to say, Sir, you don't even know what sort of animal he is, actually, much less whether he's friendly or murderous.
"There are some things I can sense on first sight, Campbell. Take my word for it, he's a friend."
"I didn't say anything, sir."
"Good. Don't. Just get ready."
"We're going to go
out
—?"
"Yes," I said. "Orders."
"And meet both of them?" Split was at the telescope.
"Both?" I took the instrument from him. Both! "Well!"
"They seem to be coming out of the ground," Split said. "I see no signs of habitation, but apparently we've landed on top of an underground city—though I hasten to add that this is only an hypothesis."
"One's a male and the other's a female," I said.
"Another hypothesis," said Split.
The late evening sunshine gave us a clear view of our two "friends". They were fully a mile away. Split was certain they had not seen our ship, and to this conclusion I was in agreement. They had apparently come up out of the barren rock hillside to view the sunset. I studied them through the telescope while Split checked over equipment for a hike.
The man's walk was unhurried. He moved thoughtfully, one might guess. His bare chest and legs showed him to be statuesque in mold, cleanly muscled, fine of bone. His skin was almost the color of the cream-colored robe which flowed from his back, whipping lightly in the breeze. He wore a brilliant red sash about his middle, and this was matched by a red headdress that came down over his shoulders as a circular mantle.
The girl stood several yards distant, watching him. This was some sort of ritual, no doubt. He was not concerned with her, but with the setting sun. Its rays were almost horizontal, knifing through a break in the distant mountain skyline. He went through some routine motions, his moving arms highlighted by the lemon-colored light of evening.
The girl approached him. Two other persons appeared from somewhere back of her.... Three.... Four.... Five....
"Where do they come from?" Split had paused in the act of checking equipment to take his turn at the telescope. If he had not done so, I might not have made a discovery. The landscape was
moving
.
The long shadows that I had not noticed through the telescope were a prominent part of the picture I saw through the ship's window when I looked out across the scene with the naked eye. The shadows were moving.
They were tree shadows. They were moving toward the clearing where the crowd gathered. And the reason for their movement was that the trees themselves were moving.
"Notice anything?" I asked Split.
"The crowd is growing. We've certainly landed on top of a city." He gazed. "They're coming from underground."
Looking through the telescope, obviously he didn't catch the view of the moving trees.
"Notice anything else unusual?" I persisted.
"Yes. The females—I'm speaking hypothetically—but they
must
be females—are all wearing puffy white fur ornaments around their elbows. I wonder why?"
"You haven't noticed the trees?"
"The females are quite attractive," said Split.
I forgot about the moving trees, then, and took over the telescope. Mobile trees were not new to me. I had seen similar vegetation on other planets—"sponge-trees"—which possessed a sort of muscular quality. If these were similar, they were no doubt feeding along the surface of the slope below the rocky plateau. The people in the clearing beyond paid no attention to them.
I studied the crowd of people. Only the leader wore the brilliant garb. The others were more scantily clothed. All were handsome of build. The lemon-tinted sunlight glanced off the muscular shoulders of the males and the soft curves of the females.
"Those furry elbow ornaments on the females," I said to Split,
"they're for protection. The caves they live in must be narrow, so they pad their elbows."
"Why don't they pad their shoulders? They don't have anything on their shoulders."
"Are you complaining?"
We became fascinated in watching, from the seclusion of our ship. If we were to walk out, or make any sounds, we might have interrupted their meeting. Here they were in their native ritual of sunset, not knowing that people from another world watched. The tall leader must be making a speech. They sat around him in little huddles. He moved his arms in calm, graceful gestures.
"They'd better break it up!" Split said suddenly. "The jungles are moving in on them."
"They're spellbound," I said. "They're used to sponge-trees. Didn't you ever see moving trees?"
Split said sharply, "Those trees are marching! They're an army under cover. Look!"
I saw, then. The whole line of advancing vegetation was camouflage for a sneak attack. And all those natives sitting around in meeting were as innocent as a flock of sitting ducks. Split Campbell's voice was edged with alarm. "Captain! Those worshippers—how can we warn them? Oh-oh! Too late. Look!"
All at once the advancing sponge-trees were tossed back over the heads of the savage band concealed within. They were warriors—fifty or more of them—with painted naked bodies. They dashed forward in a wide semicircle, swinging crude weapons, bent on slaughter.
3.
They were waving short clubs or whips with stones tied to the ends. They charged up the slope, about sixty yards, swinging their weird clubs with a threat of death.
Wild disorder suddenly struck the audience. Campbell and I believed we were about to witness a massacre.
"Captain—
Jim
! You're not going to let this happen!"
Our sympathies had gone to the first groups, the peaceable ones. I had the same impulse as Campbell—to do something—anything! Yet here we sat in our ship, more than half a mile from our thirty-five or forty
"friends" in danger.
Our friends were panicked. But they didn't take flight. They didn't duck for the holes in the rocky hilltop. Instead, they rallied and packed themselves around their tall leader. They stood, a defiant wall.
"Can we shoot a ray, Jim?"
I didn't answer. Later I would recall that Split
could
drop his dignity under excitement—his "Captain Linden" and "sir." Just now he wanted any sort of split-second order.
We saw the naked warriors run out in a wide circle. They spun and weaved, they twirled their deadly clubs, they danced grotesquely. They were closing in. Closer and closer. It was all their party.
"Jim, can we shoot?"
"Hit number sixteen, Campbell."
Split touched the number sixteen signal.
The ship's siren wailed out over the land.
You could tell when the sound struck them. The circle of savage ones suddenly fell apart. The dancing broke into the wildest contortions you ever saw. As if they'd been spanked by a wave of electricity. The siren scream must have sounded like an animal cry from an unknown world. The attackers ran for the sponge-trees. The rootless jungle came to life. It jerked and jumped spasmodically down the slope. And our siren kept right on singing.
"Ready for that hike, Campbell? Give me my equipment coat." I got into it. I looked back to the telescope. The tall man of the party had behaved with exceptional calmness. He had turned to stare in our direction from the instant the siren sounded. He could no doubt make out the lines of our silvery ship in the shadows. Slowly, deliberately, he marched over the hilltop toward us.
Most of his party now scampered back to the safety of their hiding places in the ground. But a few—the brave ones, perhaps, or the officials of his group—came with him.
"He needs a stronger guard than that," Campbell grumbled.
Sixteen was still wailing. "Set it for ten minutes and come on," I said. Together we descended from the ship.
We took into our nostrils the tangy air, breathing fiercely, at first. We slogged along over the rock surface feeling our weight to be one-and-a-third times normal. We glanced down the slope apprehensively. We didn't want any footraces. The trees, however, were still retreating. Our siren would sing on for another eight minutes. And in case of further danger, we were equipped with the standard pocket arsenal of special purpose capsule bombs.
Soon we came face to face with the tall, stately old leader in the cream-and-red cloak.
Split and I stood together, close enough to exchange comments against the siren's wail. Fine looking people, we observed. Smooth faces. Like the features of Earth men. These creatures could walk down any main street back home. With a bit of makeup they would pass.
"Notice, Captain, they have strange looking eyes." "Very smooth."
"It's because they have no eyebrows ... no eye lashes." "Very smooth—handsome—attractive."
Then the siren went off.
The leader stood before me, apparently unafraid. He seemed to be waiting for me to explain my presence. His group of twelve gathered in close.
I had met such situations with ease before. "EGGWE" explorers come equipped. I held out a gift toward the leader. It was a singing medallion attached to a chain. It was disc-shaped, patterned after a large silver coin. It made music at the touch of a button. In clear, dainty bell tones it rang out its one tune, "Trail of Stars."
As it played I held it up for inspection. I placed it around my own neck, then offered it to the leader. I thought he was smiling. He was not overwhelmed by the "magic" of this gadget. He saw it for what it was, a token of friendship. There was a keenness about him that I liked. Yes, he was smiling. He bent his head forward and allowed me to place the gift around his neck.
"Tomboldo," he said, pointing to himself.
Split and I tried to imitate his breathy accents as we repeated aloud,
"Tomboldo."
We pointed to ourselves, in turn, and spoke our own names. And then, as the names of the others were pronounced, we tried to memorize each breathy sound that was uttered. I was able to remember four or five of them. One was Gravgak.
Gravgak's piercing eyes caused me to notice him. Suspicious eyes? I did not know these people's expressions well enough to be sure.
Gravgak was a guard, tall and muscular, whose arms and legs were painted with green and black diamond designs.
By motions and words we didn't understand, we inferred that we were invited to accompany the party back home, inside the hill, where we would be safe. I nodded to Campbell. "It's our chance to be guests of Tomboldo." Nothing could have pleased us more. For our big purpose—to understand the Serpent River—would be forwarded greatly if we could learn, through the people, what its meanings were. To analyze the river's substance, estimate its rate, its weight, its temperature, and to map its course—these facts were only a part of the information we sought. The fuller story would be to learn how the inhabitants of this planet regarded it: whether they loved or shunned it, and what legends they may have woven around it. All this knowledge would be useful when future expeditions of men from the Earth followed us (through EGGWE) for an extension of peaceful trade relationships.
Tomboldo depended upon the guard Gravgak to make sure that the way was safe. Gravgak was supposed to keep an eye on the line of floating trees that had taken flight down the hillside. Danger still lurked there, we knew. And now the siren that had frightened off the attack was silent. Our ship, locked against invaders, could be forgotten. We were guests of Tomboldo.
Gravgak was our guard, but he didn't work at it. He was too anxious to hear all the talk. In the excitement of our meeting, everyone ignored the growing darkness, the lurking dangers. Gravgak confronted us with agitated jabbering:
"Wollo—yeeta—vo—vandartch—vandartch! Grr—see—o—see—o—see—o!"
"See—o—see—o—see—o," one of the others echoed.
It began to make sense. They wanted us to repeat the siren noises. The enemy had threatened their lives. There could very well have been a wholesale slaughter. But as long as we could make the "see—o—see—o" we were all safe.
Split and I exchanged glances. He touched his hand to the equipment jacket, to remind me we were armed with something more miraculous than a yowling siren.
"See—o—see—o—see—o!" Others of Tomboldo's party echoed the demand. They must have seen the sponge-trees again moving toward our path.
"
See—o—see—o!
"
Our peaceful march turned into a spasm of terror. The sponge-trees came rushing up the slope, as if borne by a sudden gust of wind. They bounced over our path, and the war party spilled out of them.
Shouting. A wild swinging of clubs. And no cat-and-mouse tricks. No deliberate circling and closing in. An outright attack. Naked bodies gleaming in the semi-darkness. Arms swinging weapons, choosing the nearest victims. The luminous rocks on the ends of the clubs flashed. Shouting, screeching, hurling their clubs. The whizzing fury filled the air.
I hurled a capsule bomb. It struck at the base of a bouncing sponge-tree, and blew the thing to bits.
The attackers ran back into a huddle, screaming. Then they came forward, rushing defiantly.
Our muscular guard, Gravgak was too bold. He had picked up one of their clubs and he ran toward their advance, and to all of Tomboldo's party it must have appeared that he was bravely rushing to his death. Yet the gesture of the club he swung so wildly could have been intended as a
warning
! It could have meant, Run back, you fools, or these strange devils will throw fire at you.
I threw fire. And so did my lieutenant. He didn't wait for orders, thank goodness. He knew it was their lives or ours. Zip, zip, zip—BLANG-BLANG-BLANG! The bursts of fire at their feet ripped the rocks. The spray caught them and knocked them back. Three or four warriors in the fore ranks were torn up in the blasts. Others were flattened—and those who were able, ran.
They ran, not waiting for the cover of sponge-trees. Not bothering to pick up their clubs.
But the operation was not a complete success. We had suffered a serious casualty. The guard Gravgak. He had rushed out too far, and the first blast of fire and rock had knocked him down. Now Tomboldo and others of the party hovered over him.
His eyes opened a little. I thought he was staring at me, drilling me with suspicion. I worked over him with medicines. The crowd around us stood back in an attitude of awe as Split and I applied ready bandages, and held a stimulant to his nostrils that made him breath back to consciousness.
Suddenly he came to life. Lying there on his back, with the club still at his fingertips, he swung up on one elbow. The swift motion caused a cry of joy from the crowd. I heard a little of it—and then blacked out. For as the muscular Gravgak moved, his fingers closed over the handle of the club. It whizzed upward with him—apparently all by accident. The stone that dangled from the end of the club crashed into my head.
I went into instant darkness. Darkness, and a long, long silence.
4.
Vauna, the beautiful daughter of Tomboldo, came into my life during the weeks that I lay unconscious.
I must have talked aloud much during those feverish hours of darkness.
"Campbell!" I would call out of a nightmare. "Campbell, we're about to land. Is everything set? Check the instruments again, Campbell."
"S-s-sh!" The low hush of Split Campbell's voice would somehow penetrate my dream.
The voices about me were soft. My dreams echoed the soft female voices of this new, strange language.
"Campbell, are you there?... Have you forgotten the Code, Campbell?"
"Quiet, Captain."
"Who is it that's swabbing my face? I can't see."
"It's Vauna. She's smiling at you, Captain. Can't you see her?"
"Is this the pretty one we saw through the telescope?"
"One of them."
"And what of the other? There were two together. I remember—"
"Omosla is here too. She's Vauna's attendant. We're all looking after you, Captain Linden. Did you know I performed an operation to relieve the pressure on your brain? You must get well, Captain." The words of Campbell came through insistently.
After a silence that may have lasted for hours or days, I said,
"Campbell, you haven't forgot the EGGWE Code?"
"Of course not, Captain."
"Section Four?"
"Section Four," he repeated in a low voice, as if to pacify me and put me to sleep. "Conduct of EGGWE agents toward native inhabitants: A, No agent shall enter into any diplomatic agreement that shall be construed as binding—"
I interrupted. "Clause D?"
He picked it up. "D, no agent shall enter into a marriage contract with any native.... H-m-m. You're not trying to warn me, are you, Captain Linden? Or are you warning
yourself
?"
At that moment my eyes opened a little. Swimming before my blurred vision was the face of Vauna. I did remember her—yes, she must have haunted my dreams, for now my eyes burned in an effort to define her features more clearly. This was indeed Vauna, who had been one of the party of twelve, and had walked beside her father in the face of the attack. Deep within my subconscious the image of her beautiful face and figure had lingered. I murmured a single word of answer to Campbell's question. "Myself."
In the hours that followed, I came to know the soft footsteps of Vauna. The caverns in which she and her father and all these Benzendella people lived were pleasantly warm and fragrant. My misty impressions of their life about me were like the first impressions of a child learning about the world into which he has been born.
Sometimes I would hear Vauna and her attendant Omosla talking together. Often when Campbell would stop in this part of the cavern to inquire about me, Omosla would drop in also. She and Campbell were learning to converse in simple words. And Vauna and I—yes. If I could only avoid blacking out.
I wanted to see her.
So often my eyes would refuse to open. A thousand nightmares. Space ships shooting through meteor swarms. Stars like eyes. Eyes like stars. The eyes of Vauna, the daughter of Tomboldo. The sensitive stroke of Vauna's fingers, brushing my forehead, pressing my hand.
I regained my health gradually.
"Are you quite awake?" Vauna would ask me in her musical Benzendella words. "You speak better today. Your friend Campbell has brought you more recordings of our language, so you can learn to speak more. My father is eager to talk with you. But you must sleep more. You are still weak."
It gave me a weird sensation to awaken in the night, trying to adjust myself to my surroundings. The Benzendellas were sleep-singers. By night they murmured mysterious little songs through their sleep. Strange harmonies whispered through the caves.
And if I stirred restlessly, the footsteps of Vauna might come to me through the darkness. In her sleeping garments she would come to me, faintly visible in the pink light that filtered through from some corridor. She would whisper melodious Benzendella words and tell me to go back to sleep, and I would drift into the darkness of my endless dreams.
The day came when I awakened to see both Vauna and her father standing before me. Stern old Tomboldo, with his chalk-smooth face and not a hint of an eyebrow or eyelash, rapped his hand against my ribs, shook the fiber bed lightly, and smiled. From a pocket concealed in his flowing cape, he drew forth the musical watch, touched the button, and played, "Trail of Stars."
"I have learned to talk," I said.
"You have had a long sleep."
"I am well again. See, I can almost walk." But as I started to rise, the wave of blackness warned me, and I restrained my ambition. "I will walk soon."
"We will have much to talk about. Your friend has pointed to the stars and told me a strange story of your coming. We have walked around the ship. He has told me how it rides through the sky. I can hardly make myself believe." Tomboldo's eyes cast upward under the strong ridge of forehead where the eyebrows should have been. He was evidently trying to visualize the flight of a space ship. "We will have much to tell each other."
"I hope so," I said. "Campbell and I came to learn about the
serpent river
." I resorted to my own language for the last two words, not knowing the Benzendella equivalent.
I
made an eel-like motion with my arm. But they didn't understand. And before I could explain, the footsteps of other Benzendellas approached, and presently I looked around to see that quite an audience had gathered. The most prominent figure of the new group was the big muscular guard of the black and green diamond markings—Gravgak.
"You get well?" Gravgak said to me. His eyes drilled me closely.
"I get well," I said.
"The blow on the head," he said, "was not meant."
I looked at him. Everyone was looking at him, and I knew this was meant to be an occasion of apology. But the light of fire in Vauna's eyes told me that she did not believe. He saw her look, and his own eyes flashed darts of defiance. With an abrupt word to me, he wheeled and started off. "Get well!"
The crowd of men and women made way for him. But in the arched doorway he turned. "Vauna. I am ready to speak to you alone."
She started. I reached and barely touched her hand. She stopped. "I will talk with you later, Gravgak."
"Now!" he shouted. "Alone."
He stalked off. A moment later Vauna, after exchanging a word with her father, excused herself from the crowd and followed Gravgak.
From the way those in the room looked, I knew this must be a dramatic moment. It was as if she had acknowledged Gravgak as her master—or her lover. He had called for her. She had followed.
But her old father was still the master. He stepped toward the door.
"Vauna!... Gravgak!... Come back."
(I will always wonder what might have happened if he hadn't called them! Was my distrust of Gravgak justified? Had I become merely a jealous lover—or was I right in my hunch that the tall muscular guard was a potential traitor?)
Vauna reappeared at once. I believe she was glad that she had been called back.
Gravgak came sullenly. At the edge of the crowd in the arched doorway he stood scowling.
"While we are together," old Tomboldo said quietly, looking around at the assemblage, "I must tell you the decision of the council. Soon we will move back to the other part of the world."
There were low murmurs of approval through the chamber.
"We will wait a few days," Tomboldo went on, "until our new friend—" he pointed to me—"is well enough to travel. We would never leave him here to the mercy of the savage ones. He and his helper came through the sky in time to save us from being destroyed. We must never forget this kindness. When we ascend the
Kao-Wagwattl
, the ever moving
rope of life
, these friends shall come with us. On the back of the Kao-Wagwattl
they shall ride with us across the land
."
|
What leads Escher and MacDonald’s meeting in the story?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Girls From Earth by Frank M. Robinson.
Relevant chunks:
THE GIRLS FROM EARTH
By FRANK M. ROBINSON
Illustrated by EMSH
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction January 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Problem: How can you arrange marriages with men in one solar system, women in another—and neither willing to leave his own world?
I
"The beasts aren't much help, are they?"
Karl Allen snatched a breath of air and gave another heave on the line tied to the raft of parampa logs bobbing in the middle of the river.
"No," he grunted, "they're not. They always balk at a time like this, when they can see it'll be hard work."
Joseph Hill wiped his plump face and coiled some of the rope's slack around his thick waist.
"Together now, Karl. One! Two! "
They stood knee-deep in mud on the bank, pulling and straining on the rope, while some few yards distant, in the shade of a grove of trees, their tiny yllumphs nibbled grass and watched them critically, but made no effort to come closer.
"If we're late for ship's landing, Joe, we'll get crossed off the list."
Hill puffed and wheezed and took another hitch on the rope.
"That's what I've been thinking about," he said, worried.
They took a deep breath and hauled mightily on the raft rope. The raft bobbed nearer. For a moment the swift waters of the Karazoo threatened to tear it out of their grasp, and then it was beached, most of it solidly, on the muddy bank. One end of it still lay in the gurgling, rushing waters, but that didn't matter. They'd be back in ten hours or so, long before the heavy raft could be washed free.
"How much time have we got, Karl?"
The ground was thick with shadows, and Karl cast a critical eye at them. He estimated that even with the refusal of their yllumphs to help beach the raft, they still had a good two hours before the rocket put down at Landing City.
"Two hours, maybe a little more," he stated hastily when Hill looked more worried. "Time enough to get to Landing City and put in for our numbers on the list."
He turned back to the raft, untied the leather and horn saddles, and threw them over the backs of their reluctant mounts. He cinched his saddle and tied on some robes and furs behind it.
Hill watched him curiously. "What are you taking the furs for? This isn't the trading rocket."
"I know. I thought that when we come back tonight, it might be cold and maybe she'll appreciate the coverings then."
"You never would have thought of it yourself," Hill grunted. "Grundy must have told you to do it, the old fool. If you ask me, the less you give them, the less they'll come to expect. Once you spoil them, they'll expect you to do all the trapping and the farming and the family-raising yourself."
"You didn't have to sign up," Karl pointed out. "You could have applied for a wife from some different planet."
"One's probably just as good as another. They'll all have to work the farms and raise families."
Karl laughed and aimed a friendly blow at Hill. They finished saddling up and headed into the thick forest.
It was quiet as Karl guided his mount along the dimly marked trail and he caught himself thinking of the return trip he would be making that night. It would be nice to have somebody new to talk to. And it would be good to have somebody to help with the trapping and tanning, somebody who could tend the small vegetable garden at the rear of his shack and mend his socks and wash his clothes and cook his meals.
And it was time, he thought soberly, that he started to raise a family. He was mid-twenty now, old enough to want a wife and children.
"You going to raise a litter, Joe?"
Hill started. Karl realized that he had probably been thinking of the same thing.
"One of these days I'll need help around the sawmill," Hill answered defensively. "Need some kids to cut the trees, a couple more to pole them down the river, some to run the mill itself and maybe one to sell the lumber in Landing City. Can't do it all myself."
He paused a moment, thinking over something that had just occurred to him.
"I've been thinking of your plans for a garden, Karl. Maybe I ought to have one for my wife to take care of, too."
Karl chuckled. "I don't think she'll have the time!"
They left the leafy expanse of the forest and entered the grasslands that sloped toward Landing City. He could even see Landing City itself on the horizon, a smudge of rusting, corrugated steel shacks, muddy streets, and the small rocket port—a scorched thirty acres or so fenced off with barbed wire.
Karl looked out of the corner of his eye at Hill and felt a vague wave of uneasiness. Hill was a big, thick man wearing the soiled clothes and bristly stubble of a man who was used to living alone and who liked it. But once he took a wife, he would probably have to keep himself in clean clothes and shave every few days. It was even possible that the woman might object to Hill letting his yllumph share the hut.
The path was getting crowded, more of the colonists coming onto the main path from the small side trails.
Hill broke the silence first. "I wonder what they'll be like."
Karl looked wise and nodded knowingly. "They're Earthwomen, Joe. Earth! "
It was easy to act as though he had some inside information, but Karl had to admit to himself that he actually knew very little about it. He was a Second System colonist and had never even seen an Earthwoman. He had heard tales, though, and even discounting a large percentage of them, some of them must have been true. Old Grundy at the rocket office, who should know about these things if anybody did, seemed disturbingly lacking on definite information, though he had hinted broadly enough. He'd whistle softly and wink an eye and repeat the stories that Karl had already heard; but he had nothing definite to offer, no real facts at all.
Some of the other colonists whom they hadn't seen for the last few months shouted greetings, and Karl began to feel some of the carnival spirit. There was Jenkins, who had another trapping line fifty miles farther up the Karazoo; Leonard, who had the biggest farm on Midplanet; and then the fellow who specialized in catching and breaking in yllumphs, whose name Karl couldn't remember.
"They say they're good workers," Hill said.
Karl nodded. "Pretty, too."
They threaded their way through the crowded and muddy streets. Landing City wasn't big, compared to some of the cities on Altair, where he had been raised, but Karl was proud of it. Some day it would be as big as any city on any planet—maybe even have a population of ten thousand people or more.
"Joe," Karl said suddenly, "what's supposed to make women from Earth better than women from any other world?"
Hill located a faint itch and frowned. "I don't know, Karl. It's hard to say. They're—well, sophisticated, glamorous."
Karl absorbed this in silence. Those particular qualities were, he thought, rather hard to define.
The battered shack that served as rocket port office and headquarters for the colonial office on Midplanet loomed up in front of them. There was a crowd gathered in front of the building and they forced their way through to see what had caused it.
"We saw this the last time we were here," Hill said.
"I know," Karl agreed, "but I want to take another look." He was anxious to glean all the information that he could.
It was a poster of a beautiful woman leaning toward the viewer. The edges of the poster were curling and the colors had faded during the last six months, but the girl's smile seemed just as inviting as ever. She held a long-stemmed goblet in one hand and was blowing a kiss to her audience with the other. Her green eyes sparkled, her smile was provocative. A quoted sentence read: "I'm from Earth !" There was nothing more except a printed list of the different solar systems to which the colonial office was sending the women.
She was real pretty, Karl thought. A little on the thin side, maybe, and the dress she was wearing would hardly be practical on Midplanet, but she had a certain something. Glamour, maybe?
A loudspeaker blared.
"All colonists waiting for the wife draft assemble for your numbers! All colonists...."
There was a jostling for places and then they were in the rapidly moving line. Grundy, fat and important-looking, was handing out little blue slips with numbers on them, pausing every now and then to tell them some entertaining bit of information about the women. He had a great imagination, nothing else.
Karl drew the number 53 and hurried to the grassy lot beside the landing field that had been decorated with bunting and huge welcome signs for the new arrivals. A table was loaded with government pamphlets meant to be helpful to newly married colonists. Karl went over and stuffed a few in his pockets. Other tables had been set out and were loaded with luncheon food, fixed by the few colonial women in the community. Karl caught himself eyeing the women closely, wondering how the girls from Earth would compare with them.
He fingered the ticket in his pocket. What would the woman be like who had drawn the companion number 53 aboard the rocket? For when it landed, they would pair up by numbers. The method had its drawbacks, of course, but time was much too short to allow even a few days of getting acquainted. He'd have to get back to his trapping lines and he imagined that Hill would have to get back to his sawmill and the others to their farms. What the hell, you never knew what you were getting either way, till it was too late.
"Sandwich, mister? Pop?"
Karl flipped the boy a coin, picked up some food and a drink, and wandered over to the landing field with Hill. There were still ten minutes or so to go before the rocket landed, but he caught himself straining his sight at the blue sky, trying to see a telltale flicker of exhaust flame.
The field was crowded and he caught some of the buzzing conversation.
"... never knew one myself, but let me tell you...."
"... knew a fellow once who married one, never had a moment's rest afterward...."
"... no comparison with colonial women. They got culture...."
"... I'd give a lot to know the girl who's got number twenty-five...."
"Let's meet back here with the girls who have picked our numbers," Hill said. "Maybe we could trade."
Karl nodded, though privately he felt that the number system was just as good as depending on first impressions.
There was a murmur from the crowd and he found his gaze riveted overhead. High above, in the misty blue sky, was a sudden twinkle of fire.
He reached up and wiped his sweaty face with a muddy hand and brushed aside a straggly lock of tangled hair. It wouldn't hurt to try to look his best.
The twinkling fire came nearer.
II
"A Mr. Macdonald to see you, Mr. Escher."
Claude Escher flipped the intercom switch.
"Please send him right in."
That was entirely superfluous, he thought, because MacDonald would come in whether Escher wanted him to or not.
The door opened and shut with a slightly harder bang than usual and Escher mentally braced himself. He had a good hunch what the problem was going to be and why it was being thrown in their laps.
MacDonald made himself comfortable and sat there for a few minutes, just looking grim and not saying anything. Escher knew the psychology by heart. A short preliminary silence is always more effective in browbeating subordinates than an initial furious bluster.
He lit a cigarette and tried to outwait MacDonald. It wasn't easy—MacDonald had great staying powers, which was probably why he was the head of the department.
Escher gave in first. "Okay, Mac, what's the trouble? What do we have tossed in our laps now?"
"You know the one—colonization problem. You know that when we first started to colonize, quite a large percentage of the male population took to the stars, as the saying goes. The adventuresome, the gamblers, the frontier type all decided they wanted to head for other worlds, to get away from it all. The male of the species is far more adventuresome than the female; the men left—but the women didn't. At least, not in nearly the same large numbers.
"Well, you see the problem. The ratio of women to men here on Earth is now something like five to three. If you don't know what that means, ask any man with a daughter. Or any psychiatrist. Husband-hunting isn't just a pleasant pastime on Earth. It's an earnest cutthroat business and I'm not just using a literary phrase."
He threw a paper on Escher's desk. "You'll find most of the statistics about it in that, Claude. Notice the increase in crimes peculiar to women. Shoplifting, badger games, poisonings, that kind of thing. It's quite a list. You'll also notice the huge increase in petty crimes, a lot of which wouldn't have bothered the courts before. In fact, they wouldn't even have been considered crimes. You know why they are now?"
Escher shook his head blankly.
"Most of the girls in the past who didn't catch a husband," MacDonald continued, "grew up to be the type of old maid who's dedicated to improving the morals and what-not of the rest of the population. We've got more puritanical societies now than we ever had, and we have more silly little laws on the books as a result. You can be thrown in the pokey for things like violating a woman's privacy—whatever that means—and she's the one who decides whether what you say or do is a violation or not."
Escher looked bored. "Not to mention the new prohibition which forbids the use of alcohol in everything from cough medicines to hair tonics. Or the cleaned up moral code that reeks—if you'll pardon the expression—of purity. Sure, I know what you mean. And you know the solution. All we have to do is get the women to colonize."
MacDonald ran his fingers nervously through his hair.
"But it won't be easy, and that's why it's been given to us. It's your baby, Claude. Give it a lot of thought. Nothing's impossible, you know."
"Perpetual motion machines are," Escher said quietly. "And pulling yourself up by your boot-straps. But I get the point. Nevertheless, women just don't want to colonize. And who can blame them? Why should they give up living in a luxury civilization, with as many modern conveniences as this one, to go homesteading on some wild, unexplored planet where they have to work their fingers to the bone and play footsie with wild animals and savages who would just as soon skin them alive as not?"
"What do you advise I do, then?" MacDonald demanded. "Go back to the Board and tell them the problem is not solvable, that we can't think of anything?"
Escher looked hurt. "Did I say that? I just said it wouldn't be easy."
"The Board is giving you a blank check. Do anything you think will pay off. We have to stay within the letter of the law, of course, but not necessarily the spirit."
"When do they have to have a solution?"
"As soon as possible. At least within the year. By that time the situation will be very serious. The psychologists say that what will happen then won't be good."
"All right, by then we'll have the answer."
MacDonald stopped at the door. "There's another reason why they want it worked out. The number of men applying to the Colonization Board for emigration to the colony planets is falling off."
"How come?"
MacDonald smiled. "On the basis of statistics alone, would you want to emigrate from a planet where the women outnumber the men five to three?"
When MacDonald had gone, Escher settled back in his chair and idly tapped his fingers on the desk-top. It was lucky that the Colonization Board worked on two levels. One was the well-publicized, idealistic level where nothing was too good and every deal was 99 and 44/100 per cent pure. But when things got too difficult for it to handle on that level, they went to Escher and MacDonald's department. The coal mine level. Nothing was too low, so long as it worked. Of course, if it didn't work, you took the lumps, too.
He rummaged around in his drawer and found a list of the qualifications set up by the Board for potential colonists. He read the list slowly and frowned. You had to be physically fit for the rigors of space travel, naturally, but some of the qualifications were obviously silly. You couldn't guarantee physical perfection in the second generation, anyway.
He tore the qualification list in shreds and dropped it in the disposal chute. That would have to be the first to go.
There were other things that could be done immediately. For one thing, as it stood now, you were supposed to be financially able to colonize. Obviously a stupid and unappealing law. That would have to go next.
He picked up the sheet of statistics that MacDonald had left and read it carefully. The Board could legalize polygamy, but that was no solution in the long run. Probably cause more problems than it would solve. Even with women as easy to handle as they were nowadays, one was still enough.
Which still left him with the main problem of how to get people to colonize who didn't want to colonize.
The first point was to convince them that they wanted to. The second point was that it might not matter whether they wanted to or not.
No, it shouldn't be hard to solve at all—provided you held your nose, silenced your conscience, and were willing to forget that there was such a thing as a moral code.
III
Phyllis Hanson put the cover over her typewriter and locked the correspondence drawer. Another day was done, another evening about to begin.
She filed into the washroom with the other girls and carefully redid her face. It was getting hard to disguise the worry lines, to paint away the faint crow's-feet around her eyes.
She wasn't, she admitted to herself for the thousandth time, what you would call beautiful. She inspected herself carefully in her compact mirror. In a sudden flash of honesty, she had to admit that she wasn't even what you would call pretty. Her face was too broad, her nose a fraction too long, and her hair was dull. Not homely, exactly—but not pretty, either.
Conversation hummed around her, most of it from the little group in the corner, where the extreme few who were married sat as practically a race apart. Their advice was sought, their suggestions avidly followed.
"Going out tonight, Phyl?"
She hesitated a moment, then slowly painted on the rest of her mouth. The question was technically a privacy violator, but she thought she would sidestep it this time, instead of refusing to answer point-blank.
"I thought I'd stay home tonight. Have a few things I want to rinse out."
The black-haired girl next to her nodded sympathetically. "Sure, Phyl, I know what you mean. Just like the rest of us—waiting for the phone to ring."
Phyllis finished washing up and then left the office, carefully noting the girl who was waiting for the boss. The girl was beautiful in a hard sort of way, a platinum blonde with an entertainer's busty figure. Waiting for a plump, middle-aged man like a stagestruck kid outside a theatre.
At home, in her small two-room bachelor-girl apartment, she stripped and took a hot, sudsing shower, then stepped out and toweled herself in front of a mirror. She frowned slightly. You didn't know whether you should keep yourself in trim just on some off-chance, or give up and let yourself go.
She fixed dinner, took a moderately long time doing the dishes, and went through the standard routine of getting a book and curling up on the sofa. It was a good book of the boot-legged variety—scientifically written with enough surplus heroes and heroines and lushly described love affairs to hold anybody's interest.
It held hers for ten pages and then she threw the book across the room, getting a savage delight at the way the pages ripped and fluttered to the floor.
What was the use of kidding herself any longer, of trying to live vicariously and hoping that some day she would have a home and a husband? She was thirty now; the phone hadn't rung in the last three years. She might as well spend this evening as she had spent so many others—call up the girls for a bridge game and a little gossip, though heaven knew you always ended up envying the people you were gossiping about.
Perhaps she should have joined one of the organizations at the office that did something like that seven nights out of every seven. A bridge game or a benefit for some school or a talk on art. Or she could have joined the Lecture of the Week club, or the YWCA, or any one of the other government-sponsored clubs designed to fill the void in a woman's life.
But bridge games and benefits and lectures didn't take the place of a husband and family. She was kidding herself again.
She got up and retrieved the battered book, then went over to the mail slot. She hadn't had time to open her mail that morning; most of the time it wasn't worth the effort. Advertisements for book clubs, lecture clubs, how to win at bridge and canasta....
Her fingers sprang the metal tabs on a large envelope and she took out the contents and spread it wide.
She gasped. It was a large poster, about a yard square. A man was on it, straddling a tiny city and a small panorama of farms and forests at his feet. He was a handsome specimen, with wavy blond hair and blue eyes and a curly mat on his bare chest that was just enough to be attractive without being apelike. He held an axe in his hands and was eyeing her with a clearly inviting look of brazen self-confidence.
It was definitely a privacy violator and she should notify the authorities immediately!
Bright lettering at the top of the poster shrieked: "Come to the Colonies, the Planets of Romance!"
Whoever had mailed it should be arrested and imprisoned! Preying on....
The smaller print at the bottom was mostly full of facts and figures. The need for women out on the colony planets, the percentage of men to women—a startling disproportion—the comfortable cities that weren't nearly as primitive as people had imagined, and the recently reduced qualifications.
She caught herself admiring the man on the poster. Naturally, it was an artist's conception, but even so....
And the cities were far in advance of the frontier settlements, where you had to battle disease and dirty savages.
It was all a dream. She had never done anything like this and she wouldn't think of doing it now. And had any of her friends seen the poster? Of course, they probably wouldn't tell her even if they had.
But the poster was a violation of privacy. Whoever had sent it had taken advantage of information that was none of their business. It was up to her to notify the authorities!
She took another look at the poster.
The letter she finally finished writing was very short. She addressed it to the box number in the upper left-hand corner of the plain wrapper that the poster had come in.
IV
The dress lay on the counter, a small corner of it trailing off the edge. It was a beautiful thing, sheer sheen satin trimmed in gold nylon thread. It was the kind of gown that would make anybody who wore it look beautiful. The price was high, much too high for her to pay. She knew she would never be able to buy it.
But she didn't intend to buy it.
She looked casually around and noted that nobody was watching her. There was another woman a few counters down and a man, obviously embarrassed, at the lingerie counter. Nobody else was in sight. It was a perfect time. The clerk had left to look up a difficult item that she had purposely asked for and probably wouldn't be back for five minutes.
Time enough, at any rate.
The dress was lying loose, so she didn't have to pry it off any hangers. She took another quick look around, then hurriedly bundled it up and dropped it in her shopping bag.
She had taken two self-assured steps away from the counter when she felt a hand on her shoulder. The grip was firm and muscular and she knew she had lost the game. She also knew that she had to play it out to the end, to grasp any straw.
"Let go of me!" she ordered in a frostily offended voice.
"Sorry, miss," the man said politely, "but I think we have a short trip to take."
She thought for a moment of brazening it out further and then gave up. She'd get a few weeks or months in the local detention building, a probing into her background for the psychological reasons that prompted her to steal, and then she'd be out again.
They couldn't do anything to her that mattered.
She shrugged and followed the detective calmly. None of the shoppers had looked up. None seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary.
In the detention building she thanked her good luck that she was facing a man for the sentence, instead of one of the puritanical old biddies who served on the bench. She even found a certain satisfaction in the presence of the cigar smoke and the blunt, earthy language that floated in from the corridor.
"Why did you steal it?" the judge asked. He held up the dress, which, she noted furiously, didn't look nearly as nice as it had under the department store lights.
"I don't have anything to say," she said. "I want to see a lawyer."
She could imagine what he was thinking. Another tough one, another plain jane who was shoplifting for a thrill.
And she probably was. You had to do something nowadays. You couldn't just sit home and chew your fingernails, or run out and listen to the endless boring lectures on art and culture.
"Name?" he asked in a tired voice.
She knew the statistics he wanted. "Ruby Johnson, 32, 145 pounds, brown hair and green eyes. Prints on file."
The judge leaned down and mentioned something to the bailiff, who left and presently came back with a ledger. The judge opened it and ran his fingers down one of the pages.
The sentence would probably be the usual, she thought—six months and a fine, or perhaps a little more when they found out she had a record for shoplifting.
A stranger in the courtroom in the official linens of the government suddenly stepped up beside the judge and looked at the page. She could hear a little of what he said:
"... anxiety neurosis ... obvious feeling of not being wanted ... probably steals to attract attention ... recommend emigration."
"In view of some complicating factors, we're going to give you a choice," the judge finally said. "You can either go to the penitentiary for ten years and pay a $10,000 fine, or you can ship out to the colony planets and receive a five-hundred-dollar immigration bonus."
She thought for a minute that she hadn't heard right. Ten thousand dollars and ten years! It was obvious that the state was interested in neither the fine nor in paying her room and board for ten years. She could recognize a squeeze play when she saw it, but there was nothing she could do about it.
"I wouldn't call that a choice," she said sourly. "I'll ship out."
V
Suzanne was proud of the apartment. It had all the modern conveniences, like the needle shower with the perfume dispenser, the built-in soft-drink bar in the library, the all-communications set, and the electrical massager. It was a nice, comfortable setup, an illusion of security in an ever-changing world.
She lit a cigarette and chuckled. Mrs. Burger, the fat old landlady, thought she kept up the apartment by working as a buyer for one of the downtown stores.
Well, maybe some day she would.
But not today. And not tonight.
The phone rang and she answered in a casual tone. She talked for a minute, then let a trace of sultriness creep into her voice. The conversation wasn't long.
She let the receiver fall back on the base and went into the bedroom to get a hat box. She wouldn't need much; she'd probably be back that same night.
It was a nice night and since the address was only a few blocks away, she decided to walk it. She blithely ignored the curious stares from other pedestrians, attracted by the sharp, clicking sound of her heels on the sidewalk.
The address was a brownstone that looked more like an office building than anything else, but then you could never tell. She pressed the buzzer and waited a moment for the sound to echo back and forth on the inside. She pressed it again and a moment later a suave young man appeared in the doorway.
"Miss Carstens?"
She smiled pertly.
"We've been expecting you."
She wondered a little at the "we," but dutifully smiled and followed him in.
The glare of the lights inside the office blinded her for a moment. When she could focus them again, her smile became slightly blurry at the edges and then disappeared entirely. She wasn't alone. There was a battery of chairs against one side of the room. She recognized most of the girls sitting in them.
She forced a smile to her lips and tried to laugh.
"I'm sure there's been some mistake! Why, I never...."
The young man coughed politely. "I'm afraid there's been no mistake. Full name, please."
"Suzanne Carstens," she said grimly, and gave the other statistics he wanted. She idly wondered what stoolie had peddled the phone numbers.
"Suzanne Carstens," the young man noted, and slowly shook his head.
"A very pretty name, but no doubt not your own. It actually doesn't matter, though. Take a seat over there."
She did as he asked and he faced the entire group.
"I and the other gentlemen here represent the Colonization Board. We've interceded with the local authorities in order to offer you a choice. We would like to ship you out to the colony planets. Naturally, we will pay you the standard emigration bonus of five hundred dollars. The colonists need wives; they offer you—security."
He stressed the word slightly.
"Now, of course, if you don't prefer the colony planets, you can stay behind and face the penalties of ten years in jail and a fine of ten thousand dollars."
Suzanne felt that her lower jaw needed support. Ten thousand dollars and ten years! And in either case she'd lose the apartment she had worked so hard for, her symbol of security.
"Well, what do you say?" There was a dead silence. The young man from the Colonization Board turned to Suzanne. "How about you, Miss Carstens?"
She smiled sickly and nodded her head. "I love to travel!" she said.
It didn't sound at all witty even to herself.
Question:
What leads Escher and MacDonald’s meeting in the story?
Answer:
|
[
"They are meeting because currently, there are not as many females on the colonized planets. And this is a huge problem. From the beginning of the colonization, there were more adventuresome males than females, thus they headed for the new world but most of the females stayed behind. The disproportional rate in the genders that gone to colonies lead to five females for every three males on Earth, while the colonies have the opposite. Hence, those girls needs to be shipped from their original planet, in this case the Earth, to colony planets for those males there. However, not many girls are applying to go. Another problem, states MacDonald, is the number of men applying for emigration to colonized planets have been dropping. MacDonald considers this reasonable since it seems illogical for a male to move away from a place that has more females than males. Escher then disregards the qualification for colonization and decides to focus on making the people that don’t want to colonize to colonize, whether it is through convincing or forcing. ",
"MacDonald and Escher meet because the Colonization Board has given MacDonald a blank check to get Escher to fix the gender ratio problem. The Colonization Board is worried about the effects that the gender ratio is having on Earth and the great psychological implications that it presents. They are concerned because it is also becoming more difficult to convince men to colonize planets because they do not want to leave Earth where they are easily favored by women due to their rarity. They have a greater advantage on Earth with their pick of women who cannot be easy picky with their choices. ",
"Escher and MacDonald meet to discuss the problems on Earth and how to encourage more people to immigrate to the colonies. They go over the concerning ratio between the two genders on Earth as a result of the colonization problem. Many of the men were initially eager to go into the stars, but the women did not follow as quickly. Many of the women are husbandless too, and men are refusing to emigrate to the colonies because there are so many women on Earth. Furthermore, the women who have grown husbandless have made the societies more puritanical than ever. The Colonization Board is looking for a solution to this problem, which leads MacDonald and Escher to meet. ",
"Escher and MacDonald meet to discuss how to get women to come to the newly colonised planets. When the planets were first colonised, more men than women went, as they had more sense of adventure, and women didn't want to leave the luxury of Earth to go live on a makeshift farm on a muddy planet. The men on these colonised planets need wives however, and they have been given the task of finding a way to get these women on Earth over to these new planets. They try to think of a solution, and come up with one that is in a very much legal, and moral grey area. They decide to give every woman who commits a petty crime a very serious ultimatum. They can either spend ten years in jail and pay a fine of ten thousand dollars, or they can go to these colonises and get a five hundred dollar bonus. "
] |
51268
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THE GIRLS FROM EARTH
By FRANK M. ROBINSON
Illustrated by EMSH
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction January 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Problem: How can you arrange marriages with men in one solar system, women in another—and neither willing to leave his own world?
I
"The beasts aren't much help, are they?"
Karl Allen snatched a breath of air and gave another heave on the line tied to the raft of parampa logs bobbing in the middle of the river.
"No," he grunted, "they're not. They always balk at a time like this, when they can see it'll be hard work."
Joseph Hill wiped his plump face and coiled some of the rope's slack around his thick waist.
"Together now, Karl. One! Two! "
They stood knee-deep in mud on the bank, pulling and straining on the rope, while some few yards distant, in the shade of a grove of trees, their tiny yllumphs nibbled grass and watched them critically, but made no effort to come closer.
"If we're late for ship's landing, Joe, we'll get crossed off the list."
Hill puffed and wheezed and took another hitch on the rope.
"That's what I've been thinking about," he said, worried.
They took a deep breath and hauled mightily on the raft rope. The raft bobbed nearer. For a moment the swift waters of the Karazoo threatened to tear it out of their grasp, and then it was beached, most of it solidly, on the muddy bank. One end of it still lay in the gurgling, rushing waters, but that didn't matter. They'd be back in ten hours or so, long before the heavy raft could be washed free.
"How much time have we got, Karl?"
The ground was thick with shadows, and Karl cast a critical eye at them. He estimated that even with the refusal of their yllumphs to help beach the raft, they still had a good two hours before the rocket put down at Landing City.
"Two hours, maybe a little more," he stated hastily when Hill looked more worried. "Time enough to get to Landing City and put in for our numbers on the list."
He turned back to the raft, untied the leather and horn saddles, and threw them over the backs of their reluctant mounts. He cinched his saddle and tied on some robes and furs behind it.
Hill watched him curiously. "What are you taking the furs for? This isn't the trading rocket."
"I know. I thought that when we come back tonight, it might be cold and maybe she'll appreciate the coverings then."
"You never would have thought of it yourself," Hill grunted. "Grundy must have told you to do it, the old fool. If you ask me, the less you give them, the less they'll come to expect. Once you spoil them, they'll expect you to do all the trapping and the farming and the family-raising yourself."
"You didn't have to sign up," Karl pointed out. "You could have applied for a wife from some different planet."
"One's probably just as good as another. They'll all have to work the farms and raise families."
Karl laughed and aimed a friendly blow at Hill. They finished saddling up and headed into the thick forest.
It was quiet as Karl guided his mount along the dimly marked trail and he caught himself thinking of the return trip he would be making that night. It would be nice to have somebody new to talk to. And it would be good to have somebody to help with the trapping and tanning, somebody who could tend the small vegetable garden at the rear of his shack and mend his socks and wash his clothes and cook his meals.
And it was time, he thought soberly, that he started to raise a family. He was mid-twenty now, old enough to want a wife and children.
"You going to raise a litter, Joe?"
Hill started. Karl realized that he had probably been thinking of the same thing.
"One of these days I'll need help around the sawmill," Hill answered defensively. "Need some kids to cut the trees, a couple more to pole them down the river, some to run the mill itself and maybe one to sell the lumber in Landing City. Can't do it all myself."
He paused a moment, thinking over something that had just occurred to him.
"I've been thinking of your plans for a garden, Karl. Maybe I ought to have one for my wife to take care of, too."
Karl chuckled. "I don't think she'll have the time!"
They left the leafy expanse of the forest and entered the grasslands that sloped toward Landing City. He could even see Landing City itself on the horizon, a smudge of rusting, corrugated steel shacks, muddy streets, and the small rocket port—a scorched thirty acres or so fenced off with barbed wire.
Karl looked out of the corner of his eye at Hill and felt a vague wave of uneasiness. Hill was a big, thick man wearing the soiled clothes and bristly stubble of a man who was used to living alone and who liked it. But once he took a wife, he would probably have to keep himself in clean clothes and shave every few days. It was even possible that the woman might object to Hill letting his yllumph share the hut.
The path was getting crowded, more of the colonists coming onto the main path from the small side trails.
Hill broke the silence first. "I wonder what they'll be like."
Karl looked wise and nodded knowingly. "They're Earthwomen, Joe. Earth! "
It was easy to act as though he had some inside information, but Karl had to admit to himself that he actually knew very little about it. He was a Second System colonist and had never even seen an Earthwoman. He had heard tales, though, and even discounting a large percentage of them, some of them must have been true. Old Grundy at the rocket office, who should know about these things if anybody did, seemed disturbingly lacking on definite information, though he had hinted broadly enough. He'd whistle softly and wink an eye and repeat the stories that Karl had already heard; but he had nothing definite to offer, no real facts at all.
Some of the other colonists whom they hadn't seen for the last few months shouted greetings, and Karl began to feel some of the carnival spirit. There was Jenkins, who had another trapping line fifty miles farther up the Karazoo; Leonard, who had the biggest farm on Midplanet; and then the fellow who specialized in catching and breaking in yllumphs, whose name Karl couldn't remember.
"They say they're good workers," Hill said.
Karl nodded. "Pretty, too."
They threaded their way through the crowded and muddy streets. Landing City wasn't big, compared to some of the cities on Altair, where he had been raised, but Karl was proud of it. Some day it would be as big as any city on any planet—maybe even have a population of ten thousand people or more.
"Joe," Karl said suddenly, "what's supposed to make women from Earth better than women from any other world?"
Hill located a faint itch and frowned. "I don't know, Karl. It's hard to say. They're—well, sophisticated, glamorous."
Karl absorbed this in silence. Those particular qualities were, he thought, rather hard to define.
The battered shack that served as rocket port office and headquarters for the colonial office on Midplanet loomed up in front of them. There was a crowd gathered in front of the building and they forced their way through to see what had caused it.
"We saw this the last time we were here," Hill said.
"I know," Karl agreed, "but I want to take another look." He was anxious to glean all the information that he could.
It was a poster of a beautiful woman leaning toward the viewer. The edges of the poster were curling and the colors had faded during the last six months, but the girl's smile seemed just as inviting as ever. She held a long-stemmed goblet in one hand and was blowing a kiss to her audience with the other. Her green eyes sparkled, her smile was provocative. A quoted sentence read: "I'm from Earth !" There was nothing more except a printed list of the different solar systems to which the colonial office was sending the women.
She was real pretty, Karl thought. A little on the thin side, maybe, and the dress she was wearing would hardly be practical on Midplanet, but she had a certain something. Glamour, maybe?
A loudspeaker blared.
"All colonists waiting for the wife draft assemble for your numbers! All colonists...."
There was a jostling for places and then they were in the rapidly moving line. Grundy, fat and important-looking, was handing out little blue slips with numbers on them, pausing every now and then to tell them some entertaining bit of information about the women. He had a great imagination, nothing else.
Karl drew the number 53 and hurried to the grassy lot beside the landing field that had been decorated with bunting and huge welcome signs for the new arrivals. A table was loaded with government pamphlets meant to be helpful to newly married colonists. Karl went over and stuffed a few in his pockets. Other tables had been set out and were loaded with luncheon food, fixed by the few colonial women in the community. Karl caught himself eyeing the women closely, wondering how the girls from Earth would compare with them.
He fingered the ticket in his pocket. What would the woman be like who had drawn the companion number 53 aboard the rocket? For when it landed, they would pair up by numbers. The method had its drawbacks, of course, but time was much too short to allow even a few days of getting acquainted. He'd have to get back to his trapping lines and he imagined that Hill would have to get back to his sawmill and the others to their farms. What the hell, you never knew what you were getting either way, till it was too late.
"Sandwich, mister? Pop?"
Karl flipped the boy a coin, picked up some food and a drink, and wandered over to the landing field with Hill. There were still ten minutes or so to go before the rocket landed, but he caught himself straining his sight at the blue sky, trying to see a telltale flicker of exhaust flame.
The field was crowded and he caught some of the buzzing conversation.
"... never knew one myself, but let me tell you...."
"... knew a fellow once who married one, never had a moment's rest afterward...."
"... no comparison with colonial women. They got culture...."
"... I'd give a lot to know the girl who's got number twenty-five...."
"Let's meet back here with the girls who have picked our numbers," Hill said. "Maybe we could trade."
Karl nodded, though privately he felt that the number system was just as good as depending on first impressions.
There was a murmur from the crowd and he found his gaze riveted overhead. High above, in the misty blue sky, was a sudden twinkle of fire.
He reached up and wiped his sweaty face with a muddy hand and brushed aside a straggly lock of tangled hair. It wouldn't hurt to try to look his best.
The twinkling fire came nearer.
II
"A Mr. Macdonald to see you, Mr. Escher."
Claude Escher flipped the intercom switch.
"Please send him right in."
That was entirely superfluous, he thought, because MacDonald would come in whether Escher wanted him to or not.
The door opened and shut with a slightly harder bang than usual and Escher mentally braced himself. He had a good hunch what the problem was going to be and why it was being thrown in their laps.
MacDonald made himself comfortable and sat there for a few minutes, just looking grim and not saying anything. Escher knew the psychology by heart. A short preliminary silence is always more effective in browbeating subordinates than an initial furious bluster.
He lit a cigarette and tried to outwait MacDonald. It wasn't easy—MacDonald had great staying powers, which was probably why he was the head of the department.
Escher gave in first. "Okay, Mac, what's the trouble? What do we have tossed in our laps now?"
"You know the one—colonization problem. You know that when we first started to colonize, quite a large percentage of the male population took to the stars, as the saying goes. The adventuresome, the gamblers, the frontier type all decided they wanted to head for other worlds, to get away from it all. The male of the species is far more adventuresome than the female; the men left—but the women didn't. At least, not in nearly the same large numbers.
"Well, you see the problem. The ratio of women to men here on Earth is now something like five to three. If you don't know what that means, ask any man with a daughter. Or any psychiatrist. Husband-hunting isn't just a pleasant pastime on Earth. It's an earnest cutthroat business and I'm not just using a literary phrase."
He threw a paper on Escher's desk. "You'll find most of the statistics about it in that, Claude. Notice the increase in crimes peculiar to women. Shoplifting, badger games, poisonings, that kind of thing. It's quite a list. You'll also notice the huge increase in petty crimes, a lot of which wouldn't have bothered the courts before. In fact, they wouldn't even have been considered crimes. You know why they are now?"
Escher shook his head blankly.
"Most of the girls in the past who didn't catch a husband," MacDonald continued, "grew up to be the type of old maid who's dedicated to improving the morals and what-not of the rest of the population. We've got more puritanical societies now than we ever had, and we have more silly little laws on the books as a result. You can be thrown in the pokey for things like violating a woman's privacy—whatever that means—and she's the one who decides whether what you say or do is a violation or not."
Escher looked bored. "Not to mention the new prohibition which forbids the use of alcohol in everything from cough medicines to hair tonics. Or the cleaned up moral code that reeks—if you'll pardon the expression—of purity. Sure, I know what you mean. And you know the solution. All we have to do is get the women to colonize."
MacDonald ran his fingers nervously through his hair.
"But it won't be easy, and that's why it's been given to us. It's your baby, Claude. Give it a lot of thought. Nothing's impossible, you know."
"Perpetual motion machines are," Escher said quietly. "And pulling yourself up by your boot-straps. But I get the point. Nevertheless, women just don't want to colonize. And who can blame them? Why should they give up living in a luxury civilization, with as many modern conveniences as this one, to go homesteading on some wild, unexplored planet where they have to work their fingers to the bone and play footsie with wild animals and savages who would just as soon skin them alive as not?"
"What do you advise I do, then?" MacDonald demanded. "Go back to the Board and tell them the problem is not solvable, that we can't think of anything?"
Escher looked hurt. "Did I say that? I just said it wouldn't be easy."
"The Board is giving you a blank check. Do anything you think will pay off. We have to stay within the letter of the law, of course, but not necessarily the spirit."
"When do they have to have a solution?"
"As soon as possible. At least within the year. By that time the situation will be very serious. The psychologists say that what will happen then won't be good."
"All right, by then we'll have the answer."
MacDonald stopped at the door. "There's another reason why they want it worked out. The number of men applying to the Colonization Board for emigration to the colony planets is falling off."
"How come?"
MacDonald smiled. "On the basis of statistics alone, would you want to emigrate from a planet where the women outnumber the men five to three?"
When MacDonald had gone, Escher settled back in his chair and idly tapped his fingers on the desk-top. It was lucky that the Colonization Board worked on two levels. One was the well-publicized, idealistic level where nothing was too good and every deal was 99 and 44/100 per cent pure. But when things got too difficult for it to handle on that level, they went to Escher and MacDonald's department. The coal mine level. Nothing was too low, so long as it worked. Of course, if it didn't work, you took the lumps, too.
He rummaged around in his drawer and found a list of the qualifications set up by the Board for potential colonists. He read the list slowly and frowned. You had to be physically fit for the rigors of space travel, naturally, but some of the qualifications were obviously silly. You couldn't guarantee physical perfection in the second generation, anyway.
He tore the qualification list in shreds and dropped it in the disposal chute. That would have to be the first to go.
There were other things that could be done immediately. For one thing, as it stood now, you were supposed to be financially able to colonize. Obviously a stupid and unappealing law. That would have to go next.
He picked up the sheet of statistics that MacDonald had left and read it carefully. The Board could legalize polygamy, but that was no solution in the long run. Probably cause more problems than it would solve. Even with women as easy to handle as they were nowadays, one was still enough.
Which still left him with the main problem of how to get people to colonize who didn't want to colonize.
The first point was to convince them that they wanted to. The second point was that it might not matter whether they wanted to or not.
No, it shouldn't be hard to solve at all—provided you held your nose, silenced your conscience, and were willing to forget that there was such a thing as a moral code.
III
Phyllis Hanson put the cover over her typewriter and locked the correspondence drawer. Another day was done, another evening about to begin.
She filed into the washroom with the other girls and carefully redid her face. It was getting hard to disguise the worry lines, to paint away the faint crow's-feet around her eyes.
She wasn't, she admitted to herself for the thousandth time, what you would call beautiful. She inspected herself carefully in her compact mirror. In a sudden flash of honesty, she had to admit that she wasn't even what you would call pretty. Her face was too broad, her nose a fraction too long, and her hair was dull. Not homely, exactly—but not pretty, either.
Conversation hummed around her, most of it from the little group in the corner, where the extreme few who were married sat as practically a race apart. Their advice was sought, their suggestions avidly followed.
"Going out tonight, Phyl?"
She hesitated a moment, then slowly painted on the rest of her mouth. The question was technically a privacy violator, but she thought she would sidestep it this time, instead of refusing to answer point-blank.
"I thought I'd stay home tonight. Have a few things I want to rinse out."
The black-haired girl next to her nodded sympathetically. "Sure, Phyl, I know what you mean. Just like the rest of us—waiting for the phone to ring."
Phyllis finished washing up and then left the office, carefully noting the girl who was waiting for the boss. The girl was beautiful in a hard sort of way, a platinum blonde with an entertainer's busty figure. Waiting for a plump, middle-aged man like a stagestruck kid outside a theatre.
At home, in her small two-room bachelor-girl apartment, she stripped and took a hot, sudsing shower, then stepped out and toweled herself in front of a mirror. She frowned slightly. You didn't know whether you should keep yourself in trim just on some off-chance, or give up and let yourself go.
She fixed dinner, took a moderately long time doing the dishes, and went through the standard routine of getting a book and curling up on the sofa. It was a good book of the boot-legged variety—scientifically written with enough surplus heroes and heroines and lushly described love affairs to hold anybody's interest.
It held hers for ten pages and then she threw the book across the room, getting a savage delight at the way the pages ripped and fluttered to the floor.
What was the use of kidding herself any longer, of trying to live vicariously and hoping that some day she would have a home and a husband? She was thirty now; the phone hadn't rung in the last three years. She might as well spend this evening as she had spent so many others—call up the girls for a bridge game and a little gossip, though heaven knew you always ended up envying the people you were gossiping about.
Perhaps she should have joined one of the organizations at the office that did something like that seven nights out of every seven. A bridge game or a benefit for some school or a talk on art. Or she could have joined the Lecture of the Week club, or the YWCA, or any one of the other government-sponsored clubs designed to fill the void in a woman's life.
But bridge games and benefits and lectures didn't take the place of a husband and family. She was kidding herself again.
She got up and retrieved the battered book, then went over to the mail slot. She hadn't had time to open her mail that morning; most of the time it wasn't worth the effort. Advertisements for book clubs, lecture clubs, how to win at bridge and canasta....
Her fingers sprang the metal tabs on a large envelope and she took out the contents and spread it wide.
She gasped. It was a large poster, about a yard square. A man was on it, straddling a tiny city and a small panorama of farms and forests at his feet. He was a handsome specimen, with wavy blond hair and blue eyes and a curly mat on his bare chest that was just enough to be attractive without being apelike. He held an axe in his hands and was eyeing her with a clearly inviting look of brazen self-confidence.
It was definitely a privacy violator and she should notify the authorities immediately!
Bright lettering at the top of the poster shrieked: "Come to the Colonies, the Planets of Romance!"
Whoever had mailed it should be arrested and imprisoned! Preying on....
The smaller print at the bottom was mostly full of facts and figures. The need for women out on the colony planets, the percentage of men to women—a startling disproportion—the comfortable cities that weren't nearly as primitive as people had imagined, and the recently reduced qualifications.
She caught herself admiring the man on the poster. Naturally, it was an artist's conception, but even so....
And the cities were far in advance of the frontier settlements, where you had to battle disease and dirty savages.
It was all a dream. She had never done anything like this and she wouldn't think of doing it now. And had any of her friends seen the poster? Of course, they probably wouldn't tell her even if they had.
But the poster was a violation of privacy. Whoever had sent it had taken advantage of information that was none of their business. It was up to her to notify the authorities!
She took another look at the poster.
The letter she finally finished writing was very short. She addressed it to the box number in the upper left-hand corner of the plain wrapper that the poster had come in.
IV
The dress lay on the counter, a small corner of it trailing off the edge. It was a beautiful thing, sheer sheen satin trimmed in gold nylon thread. It was the kind of gown that would make anybody who wore it look beautiful. The price was high, much too high for her to pay. She knew she would never be able to buy it.
But she didn't intend to buy it.
She looked casually around and noted that nobody was watching her. There was another woman a few counters down and a man, obviously embarrassed, at the lingerie counter. Nobody else was in sight. It was a perfect time. The clerk had left to look up a difficult item that she had purposely asked for and probably wouldn't be back for five minutes.
Time enough, at any rate.
The dress was lying loose, so she didn't have to pry it off any hangers. She took another quick look around, then hurriedly bundled it up and dropped it in her shopping bag.
She had taken two self-assured steps away from the counter when she felt a hand on her shoulder. The grip was firm and muscular and she knew she had lost the game. She also knew that she had to play it out to the end, to grasp any straw.
"Let go of me!" she ordered in a frostily offended voice.
"Sorry, miss," the man said politely, "but I think we have a short trip to take."
She thought for a moment of brazening it out further and then gave up. She'd get a few weeks or months in the local detention building, a probing into her background for the psychological reasons that prompted her to steal, and then she'd be out again.
They couldn't do anything to her that mattered.
She shrugged and followed the detective calmly. None of the shoppers had looked up. None seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary.
In the detention building she thanked her good luck that she was facing a man for the sentence, instead of one of the puritanical old biddies who served on the bench. She even found a certain satisfaction in the presence of the cigar smoke and the blunt, earthy language that floated in from the corridor.
"Why did you steal it?" the judge asked. He held up the dress, which, she noted furiously, didn't look nearly as nice as it had under the department store lights.
"I don't have anything to say," she said. "I want to see a lawyer."
She could imagine what he was thinking. Another tough one, another plain jane who was shoplifting for a thrill.
And she probably was. You had to do something nowadays. You couldn't just sit home and chew your fingernails, or run out and listen to the endless boring lectures on art and culture.
"Name?" he asked in a tired voice.
She knew the statistics he wanted. "Ruby Johnson, 32, 145 pounds, brown hair and green eyes. Prints on file."
The judge leaned down and mentioned something to the bailiff, who left and presently came back with a ledger. The judge opened it and ran his fingers down one of the pages.
The sentence would probably be the usual, she thought—six months and a fine, or perhaps a little more when they found out she had a record for shoplifting.
A stranger in the courtroom in the official linens of the government suddenly stepped up beside the judge and looked at the page. She could hear a little of what he said:
"... anxiety neurosis ... obvious feeling of not being wanted ... probably steals to attract attention ... recommend emigration."
"In view of some complicating factors, we're going to give you a choice," the judge finally said. "You can either go to the penitentiary for ten years and pay a $10,000 fine, or you can ship out to the colony planets and receive a five-hundred-dollar immigration bonus."
She thought for a minute that she hadn't heard right. Ten thousand dollars and ten years! It was obvious that the state was interested in neither the fine nor in paying her room and board for ten years. She could recognize a squeeze play when she saw it, but there was nothing she could do about it.
"I wouldn't call that a choice," she said sourly. "I'll ship out."
V
Suzanne was proud of the apartment. It had all the modern conveniences, like the needle shower with the perfume dispenser, the built-in soft-drink bar in the library, the all-communications set, and the electrical massager. It was a nice, comfortable setup, an illusion of security in an ever-changing world.
She lit a cigarette and chuckled. Mrs. Burger, the fat old landlady, thought she kept up the apartment by working as a buyer for one of the downtown stores.
Well, maybe some day she would.
But not today. And not tonight.
The phone rang and she answered in a casual tone. She talked for a minute, then let a trace of sultriness creep into her voice. The conversation wasn't long.
She let the receiver fall back on the base and went into the bedroom to get a hat box. She wouldn't need much; she'd probably be back that same night.
It was a nice night and since the address was only a few blocks away, she decided to walk it. She blithely ignored the curious stares from other pedestrians, attracted by the sharp, clicking sound of her heels on the sidewalk.
The address was a brownstone that looked more like an office building than anything else, but then you could never tell. She pressed the buzzer and waited a moment for the sound to echo back and forth on the inside. She pressed it again and a moment later a suave young man appeared in the doorway.
"Miss Carstens?"
She smiled pertly.
"We've been expecting you."
She wondered a little at the "we," but dutifully smiled and followed him in.
The glare of the lights inside the office blinded her for a moment. When she could focus them again, her smile became slightly blurry at the edges and then disappeared entirely. She wasn't alone. There was a battery of chairs against one side of the room. She recognized most of the girls sitting in them.
She forced a smile to her lips and tried to laugh.
"I'm sure there's been some mistake! Why, I never...."
The young man coughed politely. "I'm afraid there's been no mistake. Full name, please."
"Suzanne Carstens," she said grimly, and gave the other statistics he wanted. She idly wondered what stoolie had peddled the phone numbers.
"Suzanne Carstens," the young man noted, and slowly shook his head.
"A very pretty name, but no doubt not your own. It actually doesn't matter, though. Take a seat over there."
She did as he asked and he faced the entire group.
"I and the other gentlemen here represent the Colonization Board. We've interceded with the local authorities in order to offer you a choice. We would like to ship you out to the colony planets. Naturally, we will pay you the standard emigration bonus of five hundred dollars. The colonists need wives; they offer you—security."
He stressed the word slightly.
"Now, of course, if you don't prefer the colony planets, you can stay behind and face the penalties of ten years in jail and a fine of ten thousand dollars."
Suzanne felt that her lower jaw needed support. Ten thousand dollars and ten years! And in either case she'd lose the apartment she had worked so hard for, her symbol of security.
"Well, what do you say?" There was a dead silence. The young man from the Colonization Board turned to Suzanne. "How about you, Miss Carstens?"
She smiled sickly and nodded her head. "I love to travel!" she said.
It didn't sound at all witty even to herself.
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What is the plot of the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Trouble on Tycho by Nelson S. Bond.
Relevant chunks:
TROUBLE ON TYCHO
By NELSON S. BOND
Isobar and his squeeze-pipes were the bane of the Moon Station's existence. But there came the day when his comrades found that the worth of a man lies sometimes in his nuisance value.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories March 1943. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The audiophone buzzed thrice—one long, followed by two shorts—and Isobar Jones pressed the stud activating its glowing scanner-disc.
"Hummm?" he said absent-mindedly.
The selenoplate glowed faintly, and the image of the Dome Commander appeared.
"Report ready, Jones?"
"Almost," acknowledged Isobar gloomily. "It prob'ly ain't right, though. How anybody can be expected to get anything right on this dagnabbed hunk o' green cheese—"
"Send it up," interrupted Colonel Eagan, "as soon as you can. Sparks is making Terra contact now. That is all."
"That ain't all!" declared Isobar indignantly. "How about my bag—?"
It was all , so far as the D.C. was concerned. Isobar was talking to himself. The plate dulled. Isobar said, "Nuts!" and returned to his duties. He jotted neat ditto marks under the word "Clear" which, six months ago, he had placed beneath the column headed: Cond. of Obs. He noted the proper figures under the headings Sun Spots : Max Freq. — Min. Freq. ; then he sketched careful curves in blue and red ink upon the Mercator projection of Earth which was his daily work sheet.
This done, he drew a clean sheet of paper out of his desk drawer, frowned thoughtfully at the tabulated results of his observations, and began writing.
" Weather forecast for Terra ," he wrote, his pen making scratching sounds.
The audiophone rasped again. Isobar jabbed the stud and answered without looking.
"O.Q.," he said wearily. "O.Q. I told you it would be ready in a couple o' minutes. Keep your pants on!"
"I—er—I beg your pardon, Isobar?" queried a mild voice.
Isobar started. His sallow cheeks achieved a sickly salmon hue. He blinked nervously.
"Oh, jumpin' jimminy!" he gulped. " You , Miss Sally! Golly—'scuse me! I didn't realize—"
The Dome Commander's niece giggled.
"That's all right, Isobar. I just called to ask you about the weather in Oceania Sector 4B next week. I've got a swimming date at Waikiki, but I won't make the shuttle unless the weather's going to be nice."
"It is," promised Isobar. "It'll be swell all weekend, Miss Sally. Fine sunshiny weather. You can go."
"That's wonderful. Thanks so much, Isobar."
"Don't mention it, ma'am," said Isobar, and returned to his work.
South America. Africa. Asia. Pan-Europa. Swiftly he outlined the meteorological prospects for each sector. He enjoyed this part of his job. As he wrote forecasts for each area, in his mind's eye he saw himself enjoying such pastimes as each geographical division's terrain rendered possible.
If home is where the heart is, Horatio Jones—known better as "Isobar" to his associates at the Experimental Dome on Luna—was a long, long way from home. His lean, gangling frame was immured, and had been for six tedious Earth months, beneath the impervite hemisphere of Lunar III—that frontier outpost which served as a rocket refueling station, teleradio transmission point and meteorological base.
"Six solid months! Six sad, dreary months!" thought Isobar, "Locked up in an airtight Dome like—like a goldfish in a glass bowl!" Sunlight? Oh, sure! But filtered through ultraviolet wave-traps so it could not burn, it left the skin pale and lustreless and clammy as the belly of a toad. Fresh air? Pooh! Nothing but that everlasting sickening, scented, reoxygenated stuff gushing from atmo-conditioning units.
Excitement? Adventure? The romance he had been led to expect when he signed on for frontier service? Bah! Only a weary, monotonous, routine existence.
"A pain!" declared Isobar Jones. "That's what it is; a pain in the stummick. Not even allowed to—Yeah?"
It was Sparks, audioing from the Dome's transmission turret. He said,
"Hyah, Jonesy! How comes with the report?"
"Done," said Isobar. "I was just gettin' the sheets together for you."
"O.Q. But just bring it . Nothing else."
Isobar bridled.
"I don't know what you're talkin' about."
"Oh, no? Well, I'm talking about that squawk-filled doodlesack of yours, sonny boy. Don't bring that bag-full of noise up here with you."
Isobar said defiantly, "It ain't a doodlesack. It's a bagpipe. And I guess I can play it if I want to—"
"Not," said Sparks emphatically, "in my cubby! I've got sensitive eardrums. Well, stir your stumps! I've got to get the report rolling quick today. Big doings up here."
"Yeah? What?"
"Well, it's Roberts and Brown—"
"What about 'em?"
"They've gone Outside to make foundation repairs."
"Lucky stiffs!" commented Isobar ruefully.
"Lucky, no. Stiffs, maybe—if they should meet any Grannies. Well, scoot along. I'm on the ether in four point sixteen minutes."
"Be right up," promised Isobar, and, sheets in hand, he ambled from his cloistered cell toward the central section of the Dome.
He didn't leave Sparks' turret after the sheets were delivered. Instead, he hung around, fidgeting so obtrusively that Riley finally turned to him in sheer exasperation.
"Sweet snakes of Saturn, Jonesy, what's the trouble? Bugs in your britches?"
Isobar said, "H-huh? Oh, you mean—Oh, thanks, no! I just thought mebbe you wouldn't mind if I—well—er—"
"I get it!" Sparks grinned. "Want to play peekaboo while the contact's open, eh? Well, O.Q. Watch the birdie!"
He twisted dials, adjusted verniers, fingered a host of incomprehensible keys. Current hummed and howled. Then a plate before him cleared, and the voice of the Earth operator came in, enunciating with painstaking clarity:
"Earth answering Luna. Earth answering Luna's call. Can you hear me, Luna? Can you hear—?"
"I can not only hear you," snorted Riley, "I can see you and smell you, as well. Stop hamming it, stupid! You're lousing up the earth!"
The now-visible face of the Earth radioman drew into a grimace of displeasure.
"Oh, it's you ? Funny man, eh? Funny man Riley?"
"Sure," said Riley agreeably. "I'm a scream. Four-alarm Riley, the cosmic comedian—didn't you know? Flick on your dictacoder, oyster-puss; here's the weather report." He read it. "' Weather forecast for Terra, week of May 15-21 —'"
"Ask him," whispered Isobar eagerly. "Sparks, don't forget to ask him!"
Riley motioned for silence, but nodded. He finished the weather report, entered the Dome Commander's log upon the Home Office records, and dictated a short entry from the Luna Biological Commission. Then:
"That is all," he concluded.
"O.Q.," verified the other radioman. Isobar writhed anxiously, prodded Riley's shoulder.
"Ask him, Sparks! Go on ask him!"
"Oh, cut jets, will you?" snapped Sparks. The Terra operator looked startled.
"How's that? I didn't say a word—"
"Don't be a dope," said Sparks, "you dope! I wasn't talking to you. I'm entertaining a visitor, a refugee from a cuckoo clock. Look, do me a favor, chum? Can you twist your mike around so it's pointing out a window?"
"What? Why—why, yes, but—"
"Without buts," said Sparks grumpily. "Yours not to reason why; yours but to do or don't. Will you do it?"
"Well, sure. But I don't understand—" The silver platter which had mirrored the radioman's face clouded as the Earth operator twirled the inconoscope. Walls and desks of an ordinary broadcasting office spun briefly into view; then the plate reflected a glimpse of an Earthly landscape. Soft blue sky warmed by an atmosphere-shielded sun ... green trees firmly rooted in still-greener grass ... flowers ... birds ... people....
"Enough?" asked Sparks.
Isobar Jones awakened from his trance, eyes dulling. Reluctantly he nodded. Riley stared at him strangely, almost gently. To the other radioman, "O.Q., pal," he said. "Cut!"
"Cut!" agreed the other. The plate blanked out.
"Thanks, Sparks," said Isobar.
"Nothing," shrugged Riley " He twisted the mike; not me. But—how come you always want to take a squint at Earth when the circuit's open, Jonesy? Homesick?"
"Sort of," admitted Isobar guiltily.
"Well, hell, aren't we all? But we can't leave here for another six months at least. Not till our tricks are up. I should think it'd only make you feel worse to see Earth."
"It ain't Earth I'm homesick for," explained Isobar. "It's—well, it's the things that go with it. I mean things like grass and flowers and trees."
Sparks grinned; a mirthless, lopsided grin.
"We've got them right here on Luna. Go look out the tower window, Jonesy. The Dome's nestled smack in the middle of the prettiest, greenest little valley you ever saw."
"I know," complained Isobar. "And that's what makes it even worse. All that pretty, soft, green stuff Outside—and we ain't allowed to go out in it. Sometimes I get so mad I'd like to—"
"To," interrupted a crisp voice, "what?"
Isobar spun, flushing; his eyes dropped before those of Dome Commander Eagan. He squirmed.
"N-nothing, sir. I was only saying—"
"I heard you, Jones. And please let me hear no more of such talk, sir! It is strictly forbidden for anyone to go Outside except in cases of absolute necessity. Such labor as caused Patrolmen Brown and Roberts to go, for example—"
"Any word from them yet, sir?" asked Sparks eagerly.
"Not yet. But we're expecting them to return at any minute now. Jones! Where are you going?"
"Why—why, just back to my quarters, sir."
"That's what I thought. And what did you plan to do there?"
Isobar said stubbornly, "Well, I sort of figured I'd amuse myself for a while—"
"I thought that, too. And with what , pray, Jones?"
"With the only dratted thing," said Isobar, suddenly petulant, "that gives me any fun around this dagnabbed place! With my bagpipe."
Commander Eagan said, "You'd better find some new way of amusing yourself, Jones. Have you read General Order 17?"
Isobar said, "I seen it. But if you think—"
"It says," stated Eagan deliberately, "' In order that work or rest periods of the Dome's staff may not be disturbed, it is hereby ordered that the playing or practicing of all or any musical instruments must be discontinued immediately. By order of the Dome Commander ,' That means you, Jones!"
"But, dingbust it!" keened Isobar, "it don't disturb nobody for me to play my bagpipes! I know these lunks around here don't appreciate good music, so I always go in my office and lock the door after me—"
"But the Dome," pointed out Commander Eagan, "has an air-conditioning system which can't be shut off. The ungodly moans of your—er—so-called musical instrument can be heard through the entire structure."
He suddenly seemed to gain stature.
"No, Jones, this order is final! You cannot disrupt our entire organization for your own—er—amusement."
"But—" said Isobar.
"No!"
Isobar wriggled desperately. Life on Luna was sorry enough already. If now they took from him the last remaining solace he had, the last amusement which lightened his moments of freedom—
"Look, Commander!" he pleaded, "I tell you what I'll do. I won't bother nobody. I'll go Outside and play it—"
"Outside!" Eagan stared at him incredulously. "Are you mad? How about the Grannies?"
Isobar knew all about the Grannies. The only mobile form of life found by space-questing man on Earth's satellite, their name was an abbreviation of the descriptive one applied to them by the first Lunar exployers: Granitebacks. This was no exaggeration; if anything, it was an understatement. For the Grannies, though possessed of certain low intelligence, had quickly proven themselves a deadly, unyielding and implacable foe.
Worse yet, they were an enemy almost indestructible! No man had ever yet brought to Earth laboratories the carcass of a Grannie; science was completely baffled in its endeavors to explain the composition of Graniteback physiology—but it was known, from bitter experience, that the carapace or exoskeleton of the Grannies was formed of something harder than steel, diamond, or battleplate! This flesh could be penetrated by no weapon known to man; neither by steel nor flame, by electronic nor ionic wave, nor by the lethal, newly discovered atomo-needle dispenser.
All this Isobar knew about the Grannies. Yet:
"They ain't been any Grannies seen around the Dome," he said, "for a 'coon's age. Anyhow, if I seen any comin', I could run right back inside—"
"No!" said Commander Eagan flatly. "Absolutely, no ! I have no time for such nonsense. You know the orders—obey them! And now, gentlemen, good afternoon!"
He left. Sparks turned to Isobar, grinning.
"Well," he said, "one man's fish—hey, Jonesy? Too bad you can't play your doodlesack any more, but frankly, I'm just as glad. Of all the awful screeching wails—"
But Isobar Jones, generally mild and gentle, was now in a perfect fury. His pale eyes blazed, he stomped his foot on the floor, and from his lips poured a stream of such angry invective that Riley looked startled. Words that, to Isobar, were the utter dregs of violent profanity.
"Oh, dagnab it!" fumed Isobar Jones. "Oh, tarnation and dingbust! Oh— fiddlesticks !"
II
"And so," chuckled Riley, "he left, bubbling like a kettle on a red-hot oven. But, boy! was he ever mad! Just about ready to bust, he was."
Some minutes had passed since Isobar had left; Riley was talking to Dr. Loesch, head of the Dome's Physics Research Division. The older man nodded commiseratingly.
"It is funny, yes," he agreed, "but at the same time it is not altogether amusing. I feel sorry for him. He is a very unhappy man, our poor Isobar."
"Yeah, I know," said Riley, "but, hell, we all get a little bit homesick now and then. He ought to learn to—"
"Excuse me, my boy," interrupted the aged physicist, his voice gentle,
"it is not mere homesickness that troubles our friend. It is something deeper, much more vital and serious. It is what my people call: weltschmertz . There is no accurate translation in English. It means
'world sickness,' or better, 'world weariness'—something like that but intensified a thousandfold.
"It is a deeply-rooted mental condition, sometimes a dangerous frame of mind. Under its grip, men do wild things. Hating the world on which they find themselves, they rebel in curious ways. Suicide ... mad acts of valor ... deeds of cunning or knavery...."
"You mean," demanded Sparks anxiously, "Isobar ain't got all his buttons?"
"Not that exactly. He is perfectly sane. But he is in a dark morass of despair. He may try anything to retrieve his lost happiness, rid his soul of its dark oppression. His world-sickness is like a crying hunger—By the way, where is he now?"
"Below, I guess. In his quarters."
"Ah, good! Perhaps he is sleeping. Let us hope so. In slumber he will find peace and forgetfulness."
But Dr. Loesch would have been far less sanguine had some power the
"giftie gi'en" him of watching Isobar Jones at that moment.
Isobar was not asleep. Far from it. Wide awake and very much astir, he was acting in a singularly sinister role: that of a slinking, furtive culprit.
Returning to his private cubicle after his conversation with Dome Commander Eagan, he had stalked straightway to the cabinet wherein was encased his precious set of bagpipes. These he had taken from their pegs, gazed upon defiantly, and fondled with almost parental affection.
"So I can't play you, huh?" he muttered darkly. "It disturbs the peace o' the dingfounded, dumblasted Dome staff, does it? Well, we'll see about that!"
And tucking the bag under his arm, he had cautiously slipped from the room, down little-used corridors, and now he stood before the huge impervite gates which were the entrance to the Dome and the doorway to Outside.
On all save those occasions when a spacecraft landed in the cradle adjacent the gateway, these portals were doubly locked and barred. But today they had been unbolted that the two maintenance men might venture out. And since it was quite possible that Brown and Roberts might have to get inside in a hurry, their bolts remained drawn. Sole guardian of the entrance was a very bored Junior Patrolman.
Up to this worthy strode Isobar Jones, confident and assured, exuding an aura of propriety.
"Very well, Wilkins," he said. "I'll take over now. You may go to the meeting."
Wilkins looked at him bewilderedly.
"Huh? Whuzzat, Mr. Jones?"
Isobar's eyebrows arched.
"You mean you haven't been notified?"
"Notified of what ?"
"Why, the general council of all Patrolmen! Weren't you told that I would take your place here while you reported to G.H.Q.?"
"I ain't," puzzled Wilkins, "heard nothing about it. Maybe I ought to call the office, maybe?"
And he moved the wall-audio. But Isobar said swiftly. "That—er—won't be necessary, Wilkins. My orders were plain enough. Now, you just run along. I'll watch this entrance for you."
"We-e-ell," said Wilkins, "if you say so. Orders is orders. But keep a sharp eye out, Mister Jones, in case Roberts and Brown should come back sudden-like."
"I will," promised Isobar, "don't worry."
Wilkins moved away. Isobar waited until the Patrolman was completely out of sight. Then swiftly he pulled open the massive gate, slipped through, and closed it behind him.
A flood of warmth, exhilarating after the constantly regulated temperature of the Dome, descended upon him. Fresh air, thin, but fragrant with the scent of growing things, made his pulses stir with joyous abandon. He was Outside! He was Outside, in good sunlight, at last! After six long and dreary months!
Raptly, blissfully, all thought of caution tossed to the gentle breezes that ruffled his sparse hair, Isobar Jones stepped forward into the lunar valley....
How long he wandered thus, carefree and utterly content, he could not afterward say. It seemed like minutes; it must have been longer. He only knew that the grass was green beneath his feet, the trees were a lacy network through which warm sunlight filtered benevolently, the chirrupings of small insects and the rustling whisper of the breezes formed a tiny symphony of happiness through which he moved as one charmed.
It did not occur to him that he had wandered too far from the Dome's entrance until, strolling through an enchanting flower-decked glade, he was startled to hear—off to his right—the sharp, explosive bark of a Haemholtz ray pistol.
He whirled, staring about him wildly, and discovered that though his meandering had kept him near the Dome, he had unconsciously followed its hemispherical perimeter to a point nearly two miles from the Gateway. By the placement of ports and windows, Isobar was able to judge his location perfectly; he was opposite that portion of the structure which housed Sparks' radio turret.
And the shooting? That could only be—
He did not have to name its reason, even to himself. For at that moment, there came racing around the curve of the Dome a pair of figures, Patrolmen clad in fatigue drab. Roberts and Brown. Roberts was staggering, one foot dragged awkwardly as he ran; Brown's left arm, bloodstained from shoulder to elbow, hung limply at his side, but in his good right fist he held a spitting Haemholtz with which he tried to cover his comrade's sluggish retreat.
And behind these two, grim, grey, gaunt figures that moved with astonishing speed despite their massive bulk, came three ... six ... a dozen of those lunarites whom all men feared. The Grannies!
III
Simultaneously with his recognition of the pair, Joe Roberts saw him. A gasp of relief escaped the wounded man.
"Jones! Thank the Lord! Then you picked up our cry for help? Quick, man—where is it? Theres not a moment to waste!"
"W-where," faltered Isobar feebly, "is what ?"
"The tank, of course! Didn't you hear our telecast? We can't possibly make it back to the gate without an armored car. My foot's broken, and—" Roberts stopped suddenly, an abrupt horror in his eyes. "You don't have one! You're here alone ! Then you didn't pick up our call? But, why—?"
"Never mind that," snapped Isobar, "now!" Placid by nature, he could move when urgency drove. His quick mind saw the immediateness of their peril. Unarmed, he could not help the Patrolmen fight a delaying action against their foes, nor could he hasten their retreat. Anyway, weapons were useless, and time was of the essence. There was but one temporary way of staving off disaster. "Over here ... this tree! Quick! Up you go! Give him a lift, Brown—There! That's the stuff!"
He was the last to scramble up the gnarled bole to a tentative leafy sanctuary. He had barely gained the security of the lowermost bough when a thundering crash resounded, the sturdy trunk trembled beneath his clutch. Stony claws gouged yellow parallels in the bark scant inches beneath one kicking foot, then the Granny fell back with a thud. The Graniteback was not a climber. It was far too ungainly, much too weighty for that.
Roberts said weakly, "Th-thanks, Jonesy! That was a close call."
"That goes for me, too, Jonesy," added Brown from an upper bough.
"But I'm afraid you just delayed matters. This tree's O.Q. as long as it lasts, but—" He stared down upon the gathering knot of Grannies unhappily—"it's not going to last long with that bunch of superdreadnaughts working out on it! Hold tight, fellows! Here they come!"
For the Grannies, who had huddled for a moment as if in telepathic consultation, now joined forces, turned, and as one body charged headlong toward the tree. The unified force of their attack was like the shattering impact of a battering ram. Bark rasped and gritted beneath the besieged men's hands, dry leaves and twigs pelted about them in a tiny rain, tormented fibrous sinews groaned as the aged forest monarch shuddered in agony.
Desperately they clung to their perches. Though the great tree bent, it did not break. But when it stopped trembling, it was canted drunkenly to one side, and the erstwhile solid earth about its base was broken and cracked—revealing fleshy tentacles uprooted from ancient moorings!
Brown stared at this evidence of the Grannies' power with terror-fascinated eyes. His voice was none too firm.
"Lord! Piledrivers! A couple more like that—"
Isobar nodded. He knew what falling into the clutch of the Grannies meant. He had once seen the grisly aftermath of a Graniteback feast. Even now their adversaries had drawn back for a second attack. A sudden idea struck him. A straw of hope at which he grasped feverishly.
"You telecast a message to the Dome? Help should be on the way by now. If we can just hold out—"
But Roberts shook his head.
"We sent a message, Jonesy, but I don't think it got through. I've just been looking at my portable. It seems to be busted. Happened when they first attacked us, I guess. I tripped and fell on it."
Isobar's last hope flickered out.
"Then I—I guess it won't be long now," he mourned. "If we could have only got a message through, they would have sent out an armored car to pick us up. But as it is—"
Brown's shrug displayed a bravado he did not feel.
"Well, that's the way it goes. We knew what we were risking when we volunteered to come Outside. This damn moon! It'll never be worth a plugged credit until men find some way to fight those murderous stones-on-legs!"
Roberts said, "That's right. But what are you doing out here, Isobar? And why, for Pete's sake, the bagpipes?"
"Oh—the pipes?" Isobar flushed painfully. He had almost forgotten his original reason for adventuring Outside, had quite forgotten his instrument, and was now rather amazed to discover that somehow throughout all the excitement he had held onto it. "Why, I just happened to—Oh! the pipes! "
"Hold on!" roared Roberts. His warning came just in time. Once more, the three tree-sitters shook like dried peas in a pod as their leafy refuge trembled before the locomotive onslaught of the lunar beasts. This time the already-exposed roots strained and lifted, several snapped; when the Grannies again withdrew, complacently unaware that the "lethal ray" of Brown's Haemholtz was wasting itself upon their adamant hides in futile fury, the tree was bent at a precarious angle.
Brown sobbed, not with fear but with impotent anger, and in a gesture of enraged desperation, hurled his now-empty weapon at the retreating Grannies.
"No good! Not a damn bit of good! Oh, if there was only some way of fighting those filthy things—"
But Isobar Jones had a one-track mind. "The pipes!" he cried again, excitedly. "That's the answer!" And he drew the instrument into playing position, bag cuddled beneath one arm-pit, drones stiffly erect over his shoulder, blow-pipe at his lips. His cheeks puffed, his breath expelled. The giant lung swelled, the chaunter emitted its distinctive, fearsome, " Kaa-aa-o-o-o-oro-oong! "
Roberts moaned.
"Oh, Lord! A guy can't even die in peace!"
And Brown stared at him hopelessly.
"It's no use, Isobar. You trying to scare them off? They have no sense of hearing. That's been proven—"
Isobar took his lips from the reed to explain.
"It's not that. I'm trying to rouse the boys in the Dome. We're right opposite the atmosphere-conditioning-unit. See that grilled duct over there? That's an inhalation-vent. The portable transmitter's out of order, and our voices ain't strong enough to carry into the Dome—but the sound of these pipes is! And Commander Eagan told me just a short while ago that the sound of the pipes carries all over the building!
"If they hear this, they'll get mad because I'm disobeyin' orders. They'll start lookin' for me. If they can't find me inside, maybe they'll look Outside. See that window? That's Sparks' turret. If we can make him look out here—"
" Stop talking! " roared Roberts. "Stop talking, guy, and start blowing! I think you've got something there. Anyhow, it's our last hope. Blow! "
"And quick!" appended Brown. "For here they come!"
Isobar played, blew with all his might, while the Grannies raged below.
He meant the Grannies. Again they were huddling for attack, once more, a solid phalanx of indestructible, granite flesh, they were smashing down upon the tree.
" Haa-a-roong! " blew Isobar Jones.
IV
And—even he could not have foreseen the astounding results of his piping! What happened next was as astonishing as it was incomprehensible. For as the pipes, filled now and primed to burst into whatever substitute for melody they were prodded into, wailed into action—the Grannies' rush came to an abrupt halt!
As one, they stopped cold in their tracks and turned dull, colorless, questioning eyes upward into the tree whence came this weird and vibrant droning!
So stunned with surprise was Isobar that his grip on the pipes relaxed, his lips almost slipped from the reed. But Brown's delighted bellow lifted his paralysis.
"Sacred rings of Saturn-look! They like it! Keep playing, Jonesy! Play, boy, like you never played before!"
And Roberts roared, above the skirling of the piobaireachd into which Isobar had instinctively swung, "Music hath charms to soothe the savage beast! Then we were wrong. They can hear, after all! See that? They're lying down to listen—like so many lambs! Keep playing, Isobar! For once in my life I'm glad to hear that lovely, wonderful music!"
Isobar needed no urging. He, too, had noted how the Grannies' attack had stopped, how every last one of the gaunt grey beasts had suddenly, quietly, almost happily, dropped to its haunches at the base of the tree.
There was no doubt about it; the Grannies liked this music. Eyes raptly fixed, unblinking, unwavering, they froze into postures of gentle beatitude. One stirred once, dangerously, as for a moment Isobar paused to catch his breath, but Isobar hastily lipped the blow-pipe with redoubled eagerness, and the Granny relapsed into quietude.
Followed then what, under somewhat different circumstances, should have been a piper's dream. For Isobar had an audience which would not—and in two cases dared not—allow him to stop playing. And to this audience he played over and over again his entire repertoire. Marches, flings, dances—the stirring Rhoderik Dhu and the lilting Lassies O'Skye , the mournful Coghiegh nha Shie whose keening is like the sound of a sobbing nation.
The Cock o' the North , he played, and Mironton ... Wee Flow'r o' Dee and MacArthur's March ... La Cucuracha and—
And his lungs were parched, his lips dry as swabs of cotton. Blood pounded through his temples, throbbing in time to the drone of the chaunter, and a dark mist gathered before his eyes. He tore the blow-pipe from his lips, gasped,
"Keep playing!" came the dim, distant howl of Johnny Brown. "Just a few minutes longer, Jonesy! Relief is on the way. Sparks saw us from his turret window five minutes ago!"
And Isobar played on. How, or what, he did not know. The memory of those next few minutes was never afterward clear in his mind. All he knew was that above the skirling drone of his pipes there came another sound, the metallic clanking of a man-made machine ... an armored tank, sent from the Dome to rescue the beleaguered trio.
He was conscious, then, of a friendly voice shouting words of encouragement, of Joe Roberts calling a warning to those below.
"Careful, boys! Drive the tank right up beneath us so we can hop in and get out of here! Watch the Grannies—they'll be after us the minute Isobar stops playing!"
Then the answer from below. The fantastic answer in Sparks' familiar voice. The answer that caused the bagpipes to slip from Isobar's fingers as Isobar Jones passed out in a dead faint:
"After you? Those Grannies? Hell's howling acres— those Grannies are stone dead !"
Question:
What is the plot of the story?
Answer:
|
[
"Isobar Jones’ first call of the day was from Dome Commander Colonel Eagon telling him to deliver his weather reports to Riley Sparks, the Terra contact, ASAP. He works diligently but is soon called again, this time by Eagon’s niece who wants to know about the weather in a certain sector. Shyly, he answers then quickly finished his work. Sparks calls him and asks him to bring his reports to him, as well as informing him that Roberts and Browns were sent Outside for repair work. Sparks makes fun of Isobar’s bagpipes. \nIn Sparks’ office, Isobar delivers his work then waits for him to make the call. Once he’s delivered the report, Sparks asks the Earthman to turn his microphone around. As he does so, the video changes from his face to that of Earth, beautiful trees, and green grass. Isobar is grateful to Sparks and tells him so. They talk about Isobar’s homesickness until Colonel Eagon walks in to hear them discussing the Outisde. He quickly shuts it down and informs Isobar that it is now forbidden for him to play his bagpipe, due to the horrendous noise. Beyond frustrated, Isobar runs back to his rooms, grabs his bagpipes, and sneaks his way Outside by tricking the patrolman. Once he’s breathing in the thin air, he calms down and makes his way two miles out from the gate. Suddenly, he hears the sound of a gun and is brought back to reality. Roberts and Brown rush into view, both injured but grateful to see him, thinking he answered their distress call. However, he didn’t bring an armored tank with him, only a pair of bagpipes. A dozen Granniebacks run behind them, so Isobar helps Roberts and Brown climb a tree to escape. \nThe Grannies are unable to climb trees due to their significant size, but they can tear it down. As they pull and heave on the trunk, Isobar has the idea to play his bagpipes so the Dome will hear it and come looking for them. Roberts thinks it’s a good idea, so he begins to play, and slowly the Grannies all relax and lay down on the ground. They’re all amazed, but when Isobar stops playing, one of the Grannies starts to move again. He plays his entire repertoire and more before the armored tank arrives. The men from the dome reveal that the Grannies are dead, and the sound of the bagpipes must be what killed them. Isobar saved the team. \n",
"Horatio \"Isobar\" Jones lives and works in the Experimental Dome at Lunar III, a frontier outpost functioning as a rocket refueling station, teleradio transmission point, and meteorological base on Luna, Earth's moon. As a meteorologist forecasting weather for Earth, Isobar owes daily weather reports to Dome Commander Colonel Eagan, whose niece he also advises on forecasts for her personal travels. Isobar receives a call from his associate \"Sparks\" Riley, who manages communications with Earth in the Dome's transmission turret. Isobar tells \"Sparks\" he is about to bring him the report, and \"Sparks\" implores him to leave behind his bagpipe, the only item that brings Isobar any joy in the Dome. He also informs Isobar that the maintenance men Roberts and Brown have gone Outside to make foundation repairs to the Dome. Isobar gets jealous when he hears this, and when \"Sparks\" makes his call to Earth, Isobar asks him to request the Earth radioman to twist his mike so he can get a glimpse of Earth's nature that he misses so much. When Commander Eagan enters the room, he informs Isobar that he must stop playing his bagpipe, as the sounds travel through the air-conditioning system and disturb the other workers. Indignant, Isobar says he will go Outside the Dome, which is forbidden due to the existence of the Granitebacks, called \"Grannies\"--a fast-moving native species with impenetrable, protective carapaces known to kill humans. Eagan doubles down on his commands, and an angry Isobar returns to his quarters. In his absence, \"Sparks\" converses with Dr. Loesch, who diagnoses Isobar with \"weltschmertz\"--a deep world-weariness that makes the sufferer resort to radical acts in order to feel happiness. At the same time, Isobar takes his bagpipes, tricks the Junior Patrolman attending to the impervite gates, and goes outside to feel the sunlight on his face, breathe fresh air, and play his bagpipes in peace. Outside, Isobar walks several miles away from the entrance to the Dome, where he stumbles upon Roberts and Brown, who are injured and running away from a hostile group of Grannies. Because no weapons can pierce the thick carapaces of the Grannies, the men scurry up a nearby tree adjacent to \"Sparks'\" transmission turret. When the Grannies begin attacking the tree, the men believe they will die; however, Isobar decides to play his bagpipes, hoping the music will alert \"Sparks\" to their dilemma by way of the air-conditioning vent. As Isobar plays, the men notice the Grannies seem to be entranced by the music. Isobar continues to play until help arrives, and they all realize the music has actually killed the Grannies.",
"Horatio Jones, known as Isobar, is ready to report the weather to the Dome Commander, Colonel Eagen. Isobar is stationed on the moon at Lunar III. His job involves reporting the weather forecasts for Earth. When he signed up to be part of the Frontier Service, he expected an exciting adventure, but his life for the last six months has been boring. Isobar especially hates the stale air that he must breathe every day. \n\nWhen Isobar’s coworker Riley makes contact with Earth’s radioman, Isobar hangs around and begs him to ask the operator for a glimpse of Earth. He obliges. The grass, birds, and flowers make Isobar even more homesick. Riley says that there’s plenty of foliage to look at outside on the moon, but Isobar complains that he isn’t allowed to venture Outside. It’s too dangerous to leave the station because the Granitebacks, also known as Grannies, are ready to attack at any moment. In fact, Brown and Roberts are currently risking their lives to make repairs to the building. The Grannies are creatures that appear to be made of rock. They are not very intelligent, but they have exoskeletons harder than diamonds, and their speed allows them to take down humans in a matter of seconds.\n\nIsobar’s only pleasure is playing his bagpipe, and he has been informed that all instruments are banned. Isobar offers to go Outside to play his bagpipes, but he’s reminded that no one is allowed to leave the station unless it’s absolutely necessary.\n\nRiley sees Isobar is angry,, and he gets a kick out of it. On the other hand, Dr. Loesch, an older physicist, feels sorry for Isobar. He argues that Isobar is suffering from weltschmertz, or weariness of the world. Some men with the condition commit suicide while others rebel in unforeseen ways. He’s right because Isobar is lying to the guard so that he can go Outside and play his bagpipes.\n\nIsobar feels the warm air, and he is instantly happy. A short time later, he hears a pistol go off, and he sees Roberts and Brown. They believe he has received their calls for help, but that isn’t the case. The men are being chased by a dozen Grannies, and Isobar instructs them to climb up a tree. The group of Grannies begin to hurl their bodies at the tree like a battering ram. The three men believe they are about to die. Isobar decides to play his bagpipes to get his colleagues’ attention. As soon as the music begins, the Grannies stop attacking. Although the men believe the Grannies are deaf, they appear to be laying down on the ground, unmoving, to listen. Eventually, an armored tank comes to rescue the men, and Isobar passes out from playing the pipes so fervently. The Grannies, it turns out, were killed by the music\n",
"Horatio Jones (also called Isobar or Jonesy) is a meteorological forecaster at the Experimental Dome on Luna stationed within a hemispheric dome called Lunar III. He had spent six months there and would not get to go home for at least another six. It was a desolate place that only served as a rocket refueling station, transmission center, and meteorological base.\nIsobar is crunching the data to write a new weather report to be delivered to his colleagues Sparks and Riley to transmit to the station on Earth. After delivering the report, he lingers in the transmission tower, desperately wanting to get a peek at Earth during the video transmission of his work to Earth. The receiving person on Earth complies and turns the video feed around the room so that they get a view out of the window to the outdoors on Earth with green grass and people enjoying the day. \nIsobar reveals he longs to experience the flowers and trees again to his colleagues. There is a place that this can be done on Luna, in another adjacent hemispheric dome called “Outside” that contains a lush valley, but this is strictly forbidden other than absolute necessities for things like repairs due to extremely dangerous beasts called Granitebacks (Grannies). Dome Commander Eagan overhears Isobar’s admissions, becoming serious about how under no circumstances is he to go Outside or to play the bagpipes because the sound transmits to everyone through the air conditioning system. Seeing an opportunity for himself, Horatio suggests he go Outside to play his beloved bagpipes, citing that two of his colleagues (Brown and Roberts) are also Outside conducting orders. The Commander is steadfast in his decision and strictly forbids Isobar from going outside.\nHoratio returns to his room and immediately takes the bagpipes and goes Outside by convincing the patrol guard there were orders for him to take his post while he reports to general headquarters. He is enthralled by the lush life in the hemisphere, and wanders a great distance from the gates until he is underneath of Sparks’ radio turret and hears the loud firing of a Haemholtz ray pistol. Brown and Roberts are being attacked by a group of Grannies, and have radioed the Dome for help with no response. Isobar is helpless to assist other than suggesting they all climb a tree. To their luck, the Grannies can’t climb, but they start ramming the tree until it is obvious that they will all die up there soon once they knock it over and devour them. \nIsobar starts playing the bagpipes to alert the attention of Sparks in the tower above them. He is successful in getting the attention of Sparks who comes with a tank to rescue them, but even more amazingly the bagpipe music has killed all the of the Grannies at the base of the tree. Isobar saves the day with the bagpipe music everyone in the Dome hates.\n"
] |
62260
|
TROUBLE ON TYCHO
By NELSON S. BOND
Isobar and his squeeze-pipes were the bane of the Moon Station's existence. But there came the day when his comrades found that the worth of a man lies sometimes in his nuisance value.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories March 1943. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The audiophone buzzed thrice—one long, followed by two shorts—and Isobar Jones pressed the stud activating its glowing scanner-disc.
"Hummm?" he said absent-mindedly.
The selenoplate glowed faintly, and the image of the Dome Commander appeared.
"Report ready, Jones?"
"Almost," acknowledged Isobar gloomily. "It prob'ly ain't right, though. How anybody can be expected to get anything right on this dagnabbed hunk o' green cheese—"
"Send it up," interrupted Colonel Eagan, "as soon as you can. Sparks is making Terra contact now. That is all."
"That ain't all!" declared Isobar indignantly. "How about my bag—?"
It was all , so far as the D.C. was concerned. Isobar was talking to himself. The plate dulled. Isobar said, "Nuts!" and returned to his duties. He jotted neat ditto marks under the word "Clear" which, six months ago, he had placed beneath the column headed: Cond. of Obs. He noted the proper figures under the headings Sun Spots : Max Freq. — Min. Freq. ; then he sketched careful curves in blue and red ink upon the Mercator projection of Earth which was his daily work sheet.
This done, he drew a clean sheet of paper out of his desk drawer, frowned thoughtfully at the tabulated results of his observations, and began writing.
" Weather forecast for Terra ," he wrote, his pen making scratching sounds.
The audiophone rasped again. Isobar jabbed the stud and answered without looking.
"O.Q.," he said wearily. "O.Q. I told you it would be ready in a couple o' minutes. Keep your pants on!"
"I—er—I beg your pardon, Isobar?" queried a mild voice.
Isobar started. His sallow cheeks achieved a sickly salmon hue. He blinked nervously.
"Oh, jumpin' jimminy!" he gulped. " You , Miss Sally! Golly—'scuse me! I didn't realize—"
The Dome Commander's niece giggled.
"That's all right, Isobar. I just called to ask you about the weather in Oceania Sector 4B next week. I've got a swimming date at Waikiki, but I won't make the shuttle unless the weather's going to be nice."
"It is," promised Isobar. "It'll be swell all weekend, Miss Sally. Fine sunshiny weather. You can go."
"That's wonderful. Thanks so much, Isobar."
"Don't mention it, ma'am," said Isobar, and returned to his work.
South America. Africa. Asia. Pan-Europa. Swiftly he outlined the meteorological prospects for each sector. He enjoyed this part of his job. As he wrote forecasts for each area, in his mind's eye he saw himself enjoying such pastimes as each geographical division's terrain rendered possible.
If home is where the heart is, Horatio Jones—known better as "Isobar" to his associates at the Experimental Dome on Luna—was a long, long way from home. His lean, gangling frame was immured, and had been for six tedious Earth months, beneath the impervite hemisphere of Lunar III—that frontier outpost which served as a rocket refueling station, teleradio transmission point and meteorological base.
"Six solid months! Six sad, dreary months!" thought Isobar, "Locked up in an airtight Dome like—like a goldfish in a glass bowl!" Sunlight? Oh, sure! But filtered through ultraviolet wave-traps so it could not burn, it left the skin pale and lustreless and clammy as the belly of a toad. Fresh air? Pooh! Nothing but that everlasting sickening, scented, reoxygenated stuff gushing from atmo-conditioning units.
Excitement? Adventure? The romance he had been led to expect when he signed on for frontier service? Bah! Only a weary, monotonous, routine existence.
"A pain!" declared Isobar Jones. "That's what it is; a pain in the stummick. Not even allowed to—Yeah?"
It was Sparks, audioing from the Dome's transmission turret. He said,
"Hyah, Jonesy! How comes with the report?"
"Done," said Isobar. "I was just gettin' the sheets together for you."
"O.Q. But just bring it . Nothing else."
Isobar bridled.
"I don't know what you're talkin' about."
"Oh, no? Well, I'm talking about that squawk-filled doodlesack of yours, sonny boy. Don't bring that bag-full of noise up here with you."
Isobar said defiantly, "It ain't a doodlesack. It's a bagpipe. And I guess I can play it if I want to—"
"Not," said Sparks emphatically, "in my cubby! I've got sensitive eardrums. Well, stir your stumps! I've got to get the report rolling quick today. Big doings up here."
"Yeah? What?"
"Well, it's Roberts and Brown—"
"What about 'em?"
"They've gone Outside to make foundation repairs."
"Lucky stiffs!" commented Isobar ruefully.
"Lucky, no. Stiffs, maybe—if they should meet any Grannies. Well, scoot along. I'm on the ether in four point sixteen minutes."
"Be right up," promised Isobar, and, sheets in hand, he ambled from his cloistered cell toward the central section of the Dome.
He didn't leave Sparks' turret after the sheets were delivered. Instead, he hung around, fidgeting so obtrusively that Riley finally turned to him in sheer exasperation.
"Sweet snakes of Saturn, Jonesy, what's the trouble? Bugs in your britches?"
Isobar said, "H-huh? Oh, you mean—Oh, thanks, no! I just thought mebbe you wouldn't mind if I—well—er—"
"I get it!" Sparks grinned. "Want to play peekaboo while the contact's open, eh? Well, O.Q. Watch the birdie!"
He twisted dials, adjusted verniers, fingered a host of incomprehensible keys. Current hummed and howled. Then a plate before him cleared, and the voice of the Earth operator came in, enunciating with painstaking clarity:
"Earth answering Luna. Earth answering Luna's call. Can you hear me, Luna? Can you hear—?"
"I can not only hear you," snorted Riley, "I can see you and smell you, as well. Stop hamming it, stupid! You're lousing up the earth!"
The now-visible face of the Earth radioman drew into a grimace of displeasure.
"Oh, it's you ? Funny man, eh? Funny man Riley?"
"Sure," said Riley agreeably. "I'm a scream. Four-alarm Riley, the cosmic comedian—didn't you know? Flick on your dictacoder, oyster-puss; here's the weather report." He read it. "' Weather forecast for Terra, week of May 15-21 —'"
"Ask him," whispered Isobar eagerly. "Sparks, don't forget to ask him!"
Riley motioned for silence, but nodded. He finished the weather report, entered the Dome Commander's log upon the Home Office records, and dictated a short entry from the Luna Biological Commission. Then:
"That is all," he concluded.
"O.Q.," verified the other radioman. Isobar writhed anxiously, prodded Riley's shoulder.
"Ask him, Sparks! Go on ask him!"
"Oh, cut jets, will you?" snapped Sparks. The Terra operator looked startled.
"How's that? I didn't say a word—"
"Don't be a dope," said Sparks, "you dope! I wasn't talking to you. I'm entertaining a visitor, a refugee from a cuckoo clock. Look, do me a favor, chum? Can you twist your mike around so it's pointing out a window?"
"What? Why—why, yes, but—"
"Without buts," said Sparks grumpily. "Yours not to reason why; yours but to do or don't. Will you do it?"
"Well, sure. But I don't understand—" The silver platter which had mirrored the radioman's face clouded as the Earth operator twirled the inconoscope. Walls and desks of an ordinary broadcasting office spun briefly into view; then the plate reflected a glimpse of an Earthly landscape. Soft blue sky warmed by an atmosphere-shielded sun ... green trees firmly rooted in still-greener grass ... flowers ... birds ... people....
"Enough?" asked Sparks.
Isobar Jones awakened from his trance, eyes dulling. Reluctantly he nodded. Riley stared at him strangely, almost gently. To the other radioman, "O.Q., pal," he said. "Cut!"
"Cut!" agreed the other. The plate blanked out.
"Thanks, Sparks," said Isobar.
"Nothing," shrugged Riley " He twisted the mike; not me. But—how come you always want to take a squint at Earth when the circuit's open, Jonesy? Homesick?"
"Sort of," admitted Isobar guiltily.
"Well, hell, aren't we all? But we can't leave here for another six months at least. Not till our tricks are up. I should think it'd only make you feel worse to see Earth."
"It ain't Earth I'm homesick for," explained Isobar. "It's—well, it's the things that go with it. I mean things like grass and flowers and trees."
Sparks grinned; a mirthless, lopsided grin.
"We've got them right here on Luna. Go look out the tower window, Jonesy. The Dome's nestled smack in the middle of the prettiest, greenest little valley you ever saw."
"I know," complained Isobar. "And that's what makes it even worse. All that pretty, soft, green stuff Outside—and we ain't allowed to go out in it. Sometimes I get so mad I'd like to—"
"To," interrupted a crisp voice, "what?"
Isobar spun, flushing; his eyes dropped before those of Dome Commander Eagan. He squirmed.
"N-nothing, sir. I was only saying—"
"I heard you, Jones. And please let me hear no more of such talk, sir! It is strictly forbidden for anyone to go Outside except in cases of absolute necessity. Such labor as caused Patrolmen Brown and Roberts to go, for example—"
"Any word from them yet, sir?" asked Sparks eagerly.
"Not yet. But we're expecting them to return at any minute now. Jones! Where are you going?"
"Why—why, just back to my quarters, sir."
"That's what I thought. And what did you plan to do there?"
Isobar said stubbornly, "Well, I sort of figured I'd amuse myself for a while—"
"I thought that, too. And with what , pray, Jones?"
"With the only dratted thing," said Isobar, suddenly petulant, "that gives me any fun around this dagnabbed place! With my bagpipe."
Commander Eagan said, "You'd better find some new way of amusing yourself, Jones. Have you read General Order 17?"
Isobar said, "I seen it. But if you think—"
"It says," stated Eagan deliberately, "' In order that work or rest periods of the Dome's staff may not be disturbed, it is hereby ordered that the playing or practicing of all or any musical instruments must be discontinued immediately. By order of the Dome Commander ,' That means you, Jones!"
"But, dingbust it!" keened Isobar, "it don't disturb nobody for me to play my bagpipes! I know these lunks around here don't appreciate good music, so I always go in my office and lock the door after me—"
"But the Dome," pointed out Commander Eagan, "has an air-conditioning system which can't be shut off. The ungodly moans of your—er—so-called musical instrument can be heard through the entire structure."
He suddenly seemed to gain stature.
"No, Jones, this order is final! You cannot disrupt our entire organization for your own—er—amusement."
"But—" said Isobar.
"No!"
Isobar wriggled desperately. Life on Luna was sorry enough already. If now they took from him the last remaining solace he had, the last amusement which lightened his moments of freedom—
"Look, Commander!" he pleaded, "I tell you what I'll do. I won't bother nobody. I'll go Outside and play it—"
"Outside!" Eagan stared at him incredulously. "Are you mad? How about the Grannies?"
Isobar knew all about the Grannies. The only mobile form of life found by space-questing man on Earth's satellite, their name was an abbreviation of the descriptive one applied to them by the first Lunar exployers: Granitebacks. This was no exaggeration; if anything, it was an understatement. For the Grannies, though possessed of certain low intelligence, had quickly proven themselves a deadly, unyielding and implacable foe.
Worse yet, they were an enemy almost indestructible! No man had ever yet brought to Earth laboratories the carcass of a Grannie; science was completely baffled in its endeavors to explain the composition of Graniteback physiology—but it was known, from bitter experience, that the carapace or exoskeleton of the Grannies was formed of something harder than steel, diamond, or battleplate! This flesh could be penetrated by no weapon known to man; neither by steel nor flame, by electronic nor ionic wave, nor by the lethal, newly discovered atomo-needle dispenser.
All this Isobar knew about the Grannies. Yet:
"They ain't been any Grannies seen around the Dome," he said, "for a 'coon's age. Anyhow, if I seen any comin', I could run right back inside—"
"No!" said Commander Eagan flatly. "Absolutely, no ! I have no time for such nonsense. You know the orders—obey them! And now, gentlemen, good afternoon!"
He left. Sparks turned to Isobar, grinning.
"Well," he said, "one man's fish—hey, Jonesy? Too bad you can't play your doodlesack any more, but frankly, I'm just as glad. Of all the awful screeching wails—"
But Isobar Jones, generally mild and gentle, was now in a perfect fury. His pale eyes blazed, he stomped his foot on the floor, and from his lips poured a stream of such angry invective that Riley looked startled. Words that, to Isobar, were the utter dregs of violent profanity.
"Oh, dagnab it!" fumed Isobar Jones. "Oh, tarnation and dingbust! Oh— fiddlesticks !"
II
"And so," chuckled Riley, "he left, bubbling like a kettle on a red-hot oven. But, boy! was he ever mad! Just about ready to bust, he was."
Some minutes had passed since Isobar had left; Riley was talking to Dr. Loesch, head of the Dome's Physics Research Division. The older man nodded commiseratingly.
"It is funny, yes," he agreed, "but at the same time it is not altogether amusing. I feel sorry for him. He is a very unhappy man, our poor Isobar."
"Yeah, I know," said Riley, "but, hell, we all get a little bit homesick now and then. He ought to learn to—"
"Excuse me, my boy," interrupted the aged physicist, his voice gentle,
"it is not mere homesickness that troubles our friend. It is something deeper, much more vital and serious. It is what my people call: weltschmertz . There is no accurate translation in English. It means
'world sickness,' or better, 'world weariness'—something like that but intensified a thousandfold.
"It is a deeply-rooted mental condition, sometimes a dangerous frame of mind. Under its grip, men do wild things. Hating the world on which they find themselves, they rebel in curious ways. Suicide ... mad acts of valor ... deeds of cunning or knavery...."
"You mean," demanded Sparks anxiously, "Isobar ain't got all his buttons?"
"Not that exactly. He is perfectly sane. But he is in a dark morass of despair. He may try anything to retrieve his lost happiness, rid his soul of its dark oppression. His world-sickness is like a crying hunger—By the way, where is he now?"
"Below, I guess. In his quarters."
"Ah, good! Perhaps he is sleeping. Let us hope so. In slumber he will find peace and forgetfulness."
But Dr. Loesch would have been far less sanguine had some power the
"giftie gi'en" him of watching Isobar Jones at that moment.
Isobar was not asleep. Far from it. Wide awake and very much astir, he was acting in a singularly sinister role: that of a slinking, furtive culprit.
Returning to his private cubicle after his conversation with Dome Commander Eagan, he had stalked straightway to the cabinet wherein was encased his precious set of bagpipes. These he had taken from their pegs, gazed upon defiantly, and fondled with almost parental affection.
"So I can't play you, huh?" he muttered darkly. "It disturbs the peace o' the dingfounded, dumblasted Dome staff, does it? Well, we'll see about that!"
And tucking the bag under his arm, he had cautiously slipped from the room, down little-used corridors, and now he stood before the huge impervite gates which were the entrance to the Dome and the doorway to Outside.
On all save those occasions when a spacecraft landed in the cradle adjacent the gateway, these portals were doubly locked and barred. But today they had been unbolted that the two maintenance men might venture out. And since it was quite possible that Brown and Roberts might have to get inside in a hurry, their bolts remained drawn. Sole guardian of the entrance was a very bored Junior Patrolman.
Up to this worthy strode Isobar Jones, confident and assured, exuding an aura of propriety.
"Very well, Wilkins," he said. "I'll take over now. You may go to the meeting."
Wilkins looked at him bewilderedly.
"Huh? Whuzzat, Mr. Jones?"
Isobar's eyebrows arched.
"You mean you haven't been notified?"
"Notified of what ?"
"Why, the general council of all Patrolmen! Weren't you told that I would take your place here while you reported to G.H.Q.?"
"I ain't," puzzled Wilkins, "heard nothing about it. Maybe I ought to call the office, maybe?"
And he moved the wall-audio. But Isobar said swiftly. "That—er—won't be necessary, Wilkins. My orders were plain enough. Now, you just run along. I'll watch this entrance for you."
"We-e-ell," said Wilkins, "if you say so. Orders is orders. But keep a sharp eye out, Mister Jones, in case Roberts and Brown should come back sudden-like."
"I will," promised Isobar, "don't worry."
Wilkins moved away. Isobar waited until the Patrolman was completely out of sight. Then swiftly he pulled open the massive gate, slipped through, and closed it behind him.
A flood of warmth, exhilarating after the constantly regulated temperature of the Dome, descended upon him. Fresh air, thin, but fragrant with the scent of growing things, made his pulses stir with joyous abandon. He was Outside! He was Outside, in good sunlight, at last! After six long and dreary months!
Raptly, blissfully, all thought of caution tossed to the gentle breezes that ruffled his sparse hair, Isobar Jones stepped forward into the lunar valley....
How long he wandered thus, carefree and utterly content, he could not afterward say. It seemed like minutes; it must have been longer. He only knew that the grass was green beneath his feet, the trees were a lacy network through which warm sunlight filtered benevolently, the chirrupings of small insects and the rustling whisper of the breezes formed a tiny symphony of happiness through which he moved as one charmed.
It did not occur to him that he had wandered too far from the Dome's entrance until, strolling through an enchanting flower-decked glade, he was startled to hear—off to his right—the sharp, explosive bark of a Haemholtz ray pistol.
He whirled, staring about him wildly, and discovered that though his meandering had kept him near the Dome, he had unconsciously followed its hemispherical perimeter to a point nearly two miles from the Gateway. By the placement of ports and windows, Isobar was able to judge his location perfectly; he was opposite that portion of the structure which housed Sparks' radio turret.
And the shooting? That could only be—
He did not have to name its reason, even to himself. For at that moment, there came racing around the curve of the Dome a pair of figures, Patrolmen clad in fatigue drab. Roberts and Brown. Roberts was staggering, one foot dragged awkwardly as he ran; Brown's left arm, bloodstained from shoulder to elbow, hung limply at his side, but in his good right fist he held a spitting Haemholtz with which he tried to cover his comrade's sluggish retreat.
And behind these two, grim, grey, gaunt figures that moved with astonishing speed despite their massive bulk, came three ... six ... a dozen of those lunarites whom all men feared. The Grannies!
III
Simultaneously with his recognition of the pair, Joe Roberts saw him. A gasp of relief escaped the wounded man.
"Jones! Thank the Lord! Then you picked up our cry for help? Quick, man—where is it? Theres not a moment to waste!"
"W-where," faltered Isobar feebly, "is what ?"
"The tank, of course! Didn't you hear our telecast? We can't possibly make it back to the gate without an armored car. My foot's broken, and—" Roberts stopped suddenly, an abrupt horror in his eyes. "You don't have one! You're here alone ! Then you didn't pick up our call? But, why—?"
"Never mind that," snapped Isobar, "now!" Placid by nature, he could move when urgency drove. His quick mind saw the immediateness of their peril. Unarmed, he could not help the Patrolmen fight a delaying action against their foes, nor could he hasten their retreat. Anyway, weapons were useless, and time was of the essence. There was but one temporary way of staving off disaster. "Over here ... this tree! Quick! Up you go! Give him a lift, Brown—There! That's the stuff!"
He was the last to scramble up the gnarled bole to a tentative leafy sanctuary. He had barely gained the security of the lowermost bough when a thundering crash resounded, the sturdy trunk trembled beneath his clutch. Stony claws gouged yellow parallels in the bark scant inches beneath one kicking foot, then the Granny fell back with a thud. The Graniteback was not a climber. It was far too ungainly, much too weighty for that.
Roberts said weakly, "Th-thanks, Jonesy! That was a close call."
"That goes for me, too, Jonesy," added Brown from an upper bough.
"But I'm afraid you just delayed matters. This tree's O.Q. as long as it lasts, but—" He stared down upon the gathering knot of Grannies unhappily—"it's not going to last long with that bunch of superdreadnaughts working out on it! Hold tight, fellows! Here they come!"
For the Grannies, who had huddled for a moment as if in telepathic consultation, now joined forces, turned, and as one body charged headlong toward the tree. The unified force of their attack was like the shattering impact of a battering ram. Bark rasped and gritted beneath the besieged men's hands, dry leaves and twigs pelted about them in a tiny rain, tormented fibrous sinews groaned as the aged forest monarch shuddered in agony.
Desperately they clung to their perches. Though the great tree bent, it did not break. But when it stopped trembling, it was canted drunkenly to one side, and the erstwhile solid earth about its base was broken and cracked—revealing fleshy tentacles uprooted from ancient moorings!
Brown stared at this evidence of the Grannies' power with terror-fascinated eyes. His voice was none too firm.
"Lord! Piledrivers! A couple more like that—"
Isobar nodded. He knew what falling into the clutch of the Grannies meant. He had once seen the grisly aftermath of a Graniteback feast. Even now their adversaries had drawn back for a second attack. A sudden idea struck him. A straw of hope at which he grasped feverishly.
"You telecast a message to the Dome? Help should be on the way by now. If we can just hold out—"
But Roberts shook his head.
"We sent a message, Jonesy, but I don't think it got through. I've just been looking at my portable. It seems to be busted. Happened when they first attacked us, I guess. I tripped and fell on it."
Isobar's last hope flickered out.
"Then I—I guess it won't be long now," he mourned. "If we could have only got a message through, they would have sent out an armored car to pick us up. But as it is—"
Brown's shrug displayed a bravado he did not feel.
"Well, that's the way it goes. We knew what we were risking when we volunteered to come Outside. This damn moon! It'll never be worth a plugged credit until men find some way to fight those murderous stones-on-legs!"
Roberts said, "That's right. But what are you doing out here, Isobar? And why, for Pete's sake, the bagpipes?"
"Oh—the pipes?" Isobar flushed painfully. He had almost forgotten his original reason for adventuring Outside, had quite forgotten his instrument, and was now rather amazed to discover that somehow throughout all the excitement he had held onto it. "Why, I just happened to—Oh! the pipes! "
"Hold on!" roared Roberts. His warning came just in time. Once more, the three tree-sitters shook like dried peas in a pod as their leafy refuge trembled before the locomotive onslaught of the lunar beasts. This time the already-exposed roots strained and lifted, several snapped; when the Grannies again withdrew, complacently unaware that the "lethal ray" of Brown's Haemholtz was wasting itself upon their adamant hides in futile fury, the tree was bent at a precarious angle.
Brown sobbed, not with fear but with impotent anger, and in a gesture of enraged desperation, hurled his now-empty weapon at the retreating Grannies.
"No good! Not a damn bit of good! Oh, if there was only some way of fighting those filthy things—"
But Isobar Jones had a one-track mind. "The pipes!" he cried again, excitedly. "That's the answer!" And he drew the instrument into playing position, bag cuddled beneath one arm-pit, drones stiffly erect over his shoulder, blow-pipe at his lips. His cheeks puffed, his breath expelled. The giant lung swelled, the chaunter emitted its distinctive, fearsome, " Kaa-aa-o-o-o-oro-oong! "
Roberts moaned.
"Oh, Lord! A guy can't even die in peace!"
And Brown stared at him hopelessly.
"It's no use, Isobar. You trying to scare them off? They have no sense of hearing. That's been proven—"
Isobar took his lips from the reed to explain.
"It's not that. I'm trying to rouse the boys in the Dome. We're right opposite the atmosphere-conditioning-unit. See that grilled duct over there? That's an inhalation-vent. The portable transmitter's out of order, and our voices ain't strong enough to carry into the Dome—but the sound of these pipes is! And Commander Eagan told me just a short while ago that the sound of the pipes carries all over the building!
"If they hear this, they'll get mad because I'm disobeyin' orders. They'll start lookin' for me. If they can't find me inside, maybe they'll look Outside. See that window? That's Sparks' turret. If we can make him look out here—"
" Stop talking! " roared Roberts. "Stop talking, guy, and start blowing! I think you've got something there. Anyhow, it's our last hope. Blow! "
"And quick!" appended Brown. "For here they come!"
Isobar played, blew with all his might, while the Grannies raged below.
He meant the Grannies. Again they were huddling for attack, once more, a solid phalanx of indestructible, granite flesh, they were smashing down upon the tree.
" Haa-a-roong! " blew Isobar Jones.
IV
And—even he could not have foreseen the astounding results of his piping! What happened next was as astonishing as it was incomprehensible. For as the pipes, filled now and primed to burst into whatever substitute for melody they were prodded into, wailed into action—the Grannies' rush came to an abrupt halt!
As one, they stopped cold in their tracks and turned dull, colorless, questioning eyes upward into the tree whence came this weird and vibrant droning!
So stunned with surprise was Isobar that his grip on the pipes relaxed, his lips almost slipped from the reed. But Brown's delighted bellow lifted his paralysis.
"Sacred rings of Saturn-look! They like it! Keep playing, Jonesy! Play, boy, like you never played before!"
And Roberts roared, above the skirling of the piobaireachd into which Isobar had instinctively swung, "Music hath charms to soothe the savage beast! Then we were wrong. They can hear, after all! See that? They're lying down to listen—like so many lambs! Keep playing, Isobar! For once in my life I'm glad to hear that lovely, wonderful music!"
Isobar needed no urging. He, too, had noted how the Grannies' attack had stopped, how every last one of the gaunt grey beasts had suddenly, quietly, almost happily, dropped to its haunches at the base of the tree.
There was no doubt about it; the Grannies liked this music. Eyes raptly fixed, unblinking, unwavering, they froze into postures of gentle beatitude. One stirred once, dangerously, as for a moment Isobar paused to catch his breath, but Isobar hastily lipped the blow-pipe with redoubled eagerness, and the Granny relapsed into quietude.
Followed then what, under somewhat different circumstances, should have been a piper's dream. For Isobar had an audience which would not—and in two cases dared not—allow him to stop playing. And to this audience he played over and over again his entire repertoire. Marches, flings, dances—the stirring Rhoderik Dhu and the lilting Lassies O'Skye , the mournful Coghiegh nha Shie whose keening is like the sound of a sobbing nation.
The Cock o' the North , he played, and Mironton ... Wee Flow'r o' Dee and MacArthur's March ... La Cucuracha and—
And his lungs were parched, his lips dry as swabs of cotton. Blood pounded through his temples, throbbing in time to the drone of the chaunter, and a dark mist gathered before his eyes. He tore the blow-pipe from his lips, gasped,
"Keep playing!" came the dim, distant howl of Johnny Brown. "Just a few minutes longer, Jonesy! Relief is on the way. Sparks saw us from his turret window five minutes ago!"
And Isobar played on. How, or what, he did not know. The memory of those next few minutes was never afterward clear in his mind. All he knew was that above the skirling drone of his pipes there came another sound, the metallic clanking of a man-made machine ... an armored tank, sent from the Dome to rescue the beleaguered trio.
He was conscious, then, of a friendly voice shouting words of encouragement, of Joe Roberts calling a warning to those below.
"Careful, boys! Drive the tank right up beneath us so we can hop in and get out of here! Watch the Grannies—they'll be after us the minute Isobar stops playing!"
Then the answer from below. The fantastic answer in Sparks' familiar voice. The answer that caused the bagpipes to slip from Isobar's fingers as Isobar Jones passed out in a dead faint:
"After you? Those Grannies? Hell's howling acres— those Grannies are stone dead !"
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What is the plot of the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Jack of No Trades by Evelyn E. Smith.
Relevant chunks:
Jack of No Trades
By EVELYN E. SMITH
Illustrated by CAVAT
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy October 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
I was psick of Psi powers, not having any. Or didn't I? Maybe they'd psee otherwise psomeday!
I walked into the dining room and collided with a floating mass of fabric, which promptly draped itself over me like a sentient shroud.
"Oh, for God's sake, Kevin!" my middle brother's voice came muffled through the folds. "If you can't help, at least don't hinder!"
I managed to struggle out of the tablecloth, even though it seemed to be trying to wrap itself around me. When Danny got excited, he lost his mental grip.
"I could help," I yelled as soon as I got my head free, "if anybody would let me and, what's more, I could set the table a damn sight faster by hand than you do with 'kinesis."
Just then Father appeared at the head of the table. He could as easily have walked downstairs as teleported, but I belonged to a family of exhibitionists. And Father tended to show off as if he were still a kid. Not that he looked his age—he was big and blond, like Danny and Tim and me, and could have passed for our older brother.
"Boys, boys!" he reproved us. "Danny, you ought to be ashamed of yourself—picking on poor Kev."
Even if it hadn't been Danny's fault, he would still have been blamed.
Nobody was ever supposed to raise a voice or a hand or a thought to poor afflicted Kev, because nature had picked on me enough. And the nicer everybody was to me, the nastier I became, since only when they lost their tempers could I get—or so I believed—their true attitude toward me.
How else could I tell?
"Sorry, fella," Dan apologized to me. The tablecloth spread itself out on the table. "Wrinkles," he grumbled to himself. "Wrinkles. And I had it so nice and smooth before. Mother will be furious."
"If she were going to be furious, she'd be furious already," Father reminded him sadly. It must be tough to be married to a deep-probe telepath, I thought, and I felt a sudden wave of sympathy for him. It was so seldom I got the chance to feel sorry for anyone except myself.
"But I think you'll find she understands."
"She knows, all right," Danny remarked as he went on into the kitchen,
"but I'm not sure she always understands."
I was surprised to find him so perceptive on the abstract level, because he wasn't what you might call an understanding person, either.
"There are tensions in this room," my sister announced as she slouched in, not quite awake yet, "and hatred. I could feel them all the way upstairs. And today I'm working on the Sleepsweet Mattress copy, so I must feel absolutely tranquil. Everyone will think beautiful thoughts, please."
She sat down just as a glass of orange juice was arriving at her place; Danny apparently didn't know she'd come in already. The glass bumped into the back of her neck, tilted and poured its contents over her shoulder and down her very considerable decolletage. Being a mere primitive, I couldn't help laughing.
"Danny, you fumbler!" she screamed.
Danny erupted from the kitchen. "How many times have I asked all of you not to sit down until I've got everything on the table? Always a lot of interfering busybodies getting in the way."
"I don't see why you have to set the table at all," she retorted. "A robot could do it better and faster than you. Even Kev could." She turned quickly toward me. "Oh, I am sorry, Kevin."
I didn't say anything; I was too busy pressing my hands down on the back of the chair to make my knuckles turn white.
Sylvia's face turned even whiter. "Father, stop him— stop him! He's hating again! I can't stand it!"
Father looked at me, then at her. "I don't think he can help it, Sylvia."
I grinned. "That's right—I'm just a poor atavism with no control over myself a-tall."
Finally my mother came in from the kitchen; she was an old-fashioned woman and didn't hold with robocooks. One quick glance at me gave her the complete details, even though I quickly protested, "It's illegal to probe anyone without permission."
"I used to probe you to find out when you needed your diapers changed," she said tartly, "and I'll probe you now. You should watch yourself, Sylvia—poor Kevin isn't responsible."
She didn't need to probe to get the blast of naked emotion that spurted out from me. My sister screamed and even Father looked uncomfortable. Danny stomped back into the kitchen, muttering to himself.
Mother's lips tightened. "Sylvia, go upstairs and change your dress. Kevin, do I have to make an appointment for you at the clinic again?" A psychiatrist never diagnosed members of his own family—that is, not officially; they couldn't help offering thumbnail diagnoses any more than they could help having thumbnails.
"No use," I said, deciding it was safe to drop into my chair. "Who can adjust me to an environment to which I'm fundamentally unsuited?"
"Maybe there is something physically wrong with him, Amy," my father suggested hopefully. "Maybe you should make an appointment for him at the cure-all?"
Mother shook her neatly coiffed head. "He's been to it dozens of times and he always checks out in splendid shape. None of us can spare the time to go with him again, just on an off-chance, and he could hardly be allowed to make such a long trip all by himself. Pity there isn't a machine in every community, but, then, we don't really need them."
Now that the virus diseases had been licked, people hardly ever got sick any more and, when they did, it was mostly psychosomatic. Life was so well organized that there weren't even many accidents these days. It was a safe, orderly existence for those who fitted into it—which accounted for more than ninety-five per cent of the population. The only ones who didn't adjust were those who couldn't, like me—psi-deficients, throwbacks to an earlier era. There were no physical cripples, because anybody could have a new arm or a new leg grafted on, but you couldn't graft psi powers onto an atavism or, if you could, the technique hadn't been developed yet.
"I feel a sense of impending doom brooding over this household," my youngest brother remarked cheerfully as he vaulted into his chair.
"You always do, Timothy," my mother said, unfolding her napkin. "And I must say it's not in good taste, especially at breakfast."
He reached for his juice. "Guess this is a doomed household. And what was all that emotional uproar about?"
"The usual," Sylvia said from the doorway before anyone else could answer. She slid warily into her chair. "Hey, Dan, I'm here!" she called. "If anything else comes in, it comes in manually, understand?"
"Oh, all right." Dan emerged from the kitchen with a tray of food floating ahead of him.
"The usual? Trouble with Kev?" Tim looked at me narrowly. "Somehow my sense of ominousness is connected with him."
"Well, that's perfectly natural—" Sylvia began, then stopped as Mother caught her eye.
"I didn't mean that," Tim said. "I still say Kev's got something we can't figure out."
"You've been saying that for years," Danny protested, "and he's been tested for every faculty under the Sun. He can't telepath or teleport or telekinesthesize or even teletype. He can't precognize or prefix or prepossess. He can't—"
"Strictly a bundle of no-talent, that's me," I interrupted, trying to keep my animal feelings from getting the better of me. That was how my family thought of me, I knew—as an animal, and not a very lovable one, either.
"No," Tim said, "he's just got something we haven't developed a test for. It'll come out some day, you'll see." He smiled at me.
I smiled at him gratefully; he was the only member of my family who really seemed to like me in spite of my handicap. "It won't work, Tim. I know you're trying to be kind, but—"
"He's not saying it just to be kind," my mother put in. "He means it. Not that I want to arouse false hopes, Kevin," she added with grim scrupulousness. "Tim's awfully young yet and I wouldn't trust his extracurricular prognostications too far."
Nonetheless, I couldn't help feeling a feeble renewal of old hopes. After all, young or not, Tim was a hell of a good prognosticator; he wouldn't have risen so rapidly to the position he held in the Weather Bureau if he hadn't been pretty near tops in foreboding.
Mother smiled sadly at my thoughts, but I didn't let that discourage me. As Danny had said, she knew but she didn't really understand . Nobody, for all of his or her psi power, really understood me.
Breakfast was finally over and the rest of my family dispersed to their various jobs. Father simply took his briefcase and disappeared—he was a traveling salesman and he had a morning appointment clear across the continent. The others, not having his particular gift, had to take the helibus to their different destinations. Mother, as I said, was a psychiatrist. Sylvia wrote advertising copy. Tim was a meteorologist. Dan was a junior executive in a furniture moving company and expected a promotion to senior rank as soon as he achieved a better mental grip on pianos.
Only I had no job, no profession, no place in life. Of course there were certain menial tasks a psi-negative could perform, but my parents would have none of them—partly for my sake, but mostly for the sake of their own community standing.
"We don't need what little money Kev could bring in," my father always said. "I can afford to support my family. He can stay home and take care of the house."
And that's what I did. Not that there was much to do except call a techno whenever one of the servomechanisms missed a beat. True enough, those things had to be watched mighty carefully because, if they broke down, it sometimes took days before the repair and/or replacement robots could come. There never were enough of them because ours was a constructive society. Still, being a machine-sitter isn't very much of a career. And every function that wasn't the prerogative of a machine could be done ten times more quickly and efficiently by some member of my family than I could do it. If I went ahead and did something anyway, they would just do it all over again when they got home.
So I had nothing to do all day. I had a special dispensation to take books out of the local Archives, because I was a deficient and couldn't receive the tellie programs. Almost everybody on Earth was telepathic to some degree and could get the amplified projections even if he couldn't transmit or receive with his natural powers. But I got nothing. I had to derive all my recreation from reading, and you can get awfully tired of books, especially when they're all at least a hundred years old and written by primitives. I could borrow sound tapes, but they also bored me after a while.
I thought maybe I could develop a talent for composing or painting, which would classify me as a telesensitive—artistic ability being considered as the oldest, if least important, psi power—but I couldn't even do anything like that.
About all there was left for me was to take long walks. Athletics were out of the question; I couldn't compete with psi-boys and they didn't want to compete with me. All the people in the neighborhood knew me and were nice to me, but I didn't need to be a 'path to tell what they were saying to one another when I hove into sight. "There's that oldest Faraday boy. Pity, such a talented family, to have a defective."
I didn't have a girl, either. Although some of them were sort of attracted to me—I could see that—they could hardly go out with me without exposing themselves to ridicule. In their sandals, I would have done the same thing, but that didn't stop me from hating them.
I wished I had been born a couple of hundred years ago—before people started playing around with nuclear energy and filling the air with radiations that they were afraid would turn human beings into hideous monsters. Instead, they developed the psi powers that had always been latent in the species until we developed into a race of supermen. I don't know why I say we —in 1960 or so, I might have been considered superior, but in 2102 I was just the Faradays' idiot boy.
Exploring space should have been my hope. If there had been anything useful or interesting on any of the other planets, I might have found a niche for myself there. In totally new surroundings, the psi powers geared to another environment might not be an advantage. But by the time I was ten, it was discovered that the other planets were just barren hunks of rock, with pressures and climates and atmospheres drastically unsuited to human life. A year or so before, the hyperdrive had been developed on Earth and ships had been sent out to explore the stars, but I had no hope left in that direction any more.
I was an atavism in a world of peace and plenty. Peace, because people couldn't indulge in war or even crime with so many telepaths running around—not because, I told myself, the capacity for primitive behavior wasn't just as latent in everybody else as the psi talent seemed latent in me. Tim must be right, I thought—I must have some undreamed-of power that only the right circumstances would bring out. But what was that power?
For years I had speculated on what my potential talent might be, explored every wild possibility I could conceive of and found none productive of even an ambiguous result with which I could fool myself. As I approached adulthood, I began to concede that I was probably nothing more than what I seemed to be—a simple psi-negative. Yet, from time to time, hope surged up again, as it had today, in spite of my knowledge that my hope was an impossibility. Who ever heard of latent psi powers showing themselves in an individual as old as twenty-six?
I was almost alone in the parks where I used to walk, because people liked to commune with one another those days rather than with nature. Even gardening had very little popularity. But I found myself most at home in those woodland—or, rather, pseudo-woodland—surroundings, able to identify more readily with the trees and flowers than I could with my own kind. A fallen tree or a broken blossom would excite more sympathy from me than the minor catastrophes that will beset any household, no matter how gifted, and I would shy away from bloody noses or cut fingers, thus giving myself a reputation for callousness as well as extrasensory imbecility.
However, I was no more callous in steering clear of human breakdowns than I was in not shedding tears over the household machines when they broke down, for I felt no more closely akin to my parents and siblings than I did to the mechanisms that served and, sometimes, failed us.
On that day, I walked farther than I had intended and, by the time I got back home, I found the rest of my family had returned before me. They seemed to be excited about something and were surprised to see me so calm.
"Aren't you even interested in anything outside your own immediate concerns, Kev?" Sylvia demanded, despite Father's efforts to shush her.
"Can't you remember that Kev isn't able to receive the tellies?" Tim shot back at her. "He probably doesn't even know what's happened."
"Well, what did happen?" I asked, trying not to snap.
"One starship got back from Alpha Centauri," Danny said excitedly.
"There are two inhabited Earth-type planets there!"
This was for me; this was it at last! I tried not to show my enthusiasm, though I knew that was futile. My relatives could keep their thoughts and emotions from me; I couldn't keep mine from them.
"What kind of life inhabits them? Humanoid?"
"Uh-uh." Danny shook his head. "And hostile. The crew of the starship says they were attacked immediately on landing. When they turned and left, they were followed here by one of the alien ships. Must be a pretty advanced race to have spaceships. Anyhow, the extraterrestrial ship headed back as soon as it got a fix on where ours was going."
"But if they're hostile," I said thoughtfully, "it might mean war."
"Of course. That's why everybody's so wrought up. We hope it's peace, but we'll have to prepare for war just in case."
There hadn't been a war on Earth for well over a hundred years, but we hadn't been so foolish as to obliterate all knowledge of military techniques and weapons. The alien ship wouldn't be able to come back with reinforcements—if such were its intention—in less than six months. This meant time to get together a stockpile of weapons, though we had no idea of how effective our defenses would be against the aliens' armament.
They might have strange and terrible weapons against which we would be powerless. On the other hand, our side would have the benefits of telekinetically guided missiles, teleported saboteurs, telepaths to pick up the alien strategy, and prognosticators to determine the outcome of each battle and see whether it was worth fighting in the first place.
Everybody on Earth hoped for peace. Everybody, that is, except me. I had been unable to achieve any sense of identity with the world in which I lived, and it was almost worth the loss of personal survival to know that my own smug species could look silly against a still more talented race.
"It isn't so much our defense that worries me," my mother muttered, "as lack of adequate medical machinery. War is bound to mean casualties and there aren't enough cure-alls on the planet to take care of them. It's useless to expect the government to build more right now; they'll be too busy producing weapons. Sylvia, you'd better take a leave of absence from your job and come down to Psycho Center to learn first-aid techniques. And you too, Kevin," she added, obviously a little surprised herself at what she was saying. "Probably you'd be even better at it than Sylvia since you aren't sensitive to other people's pain."
I looked at her.
"It is an ill wind," she agreed, smiling wryly, "but don't let me catch you thinking that way, Kevin. Can't you see it would be better that there should be no war and you should remain useless?"
I couldn't see it, of course, and she knew that, with her wretched talent for stripping away my feeble attempts at privacy. Psi-powers usually included some ability to form a mental shield; being without one, I was necessarily devoid of the other.
My attitude didn't matter, though, because it was definitely war. The aliens came back with a fleet clearly bent on our annihilation—even the 'paths couldn't figure out their motives, for the thought pattern was entirely different from ours—and the war was on.
I had enjoyed learning first-aid; it was the first time I had ever worked with people as an equal. And I was good at it because psi-powers aren't much of an advantage there. Telekinesis maybe a little, but I was big enough to lift anybody without needing any superhuman abilities—normal human abilities, rather.
"Gee, Mr. Faraday," one of the other students breathed, "you're so strong. And without 'kinesis or anything."
I looked at her and liked what I saw. She was blonde and pretty. "My name's not Mr. Faraday," I said. "It's Kevin."
"My name's Lucy," she giggled.
No girl had ever giggled at me in that way before. Immediately I started to envision a beautiful future for the two of us, then flushed when I realized that she might be a telepath. But she was winding a tourniquet around the arm of another member of the class with apparent unconcern.
"Hey, quit that!" the windee yelled. "You're making it too tight! I'll be mortified!"
So Lucy was obviously not a telepath. Later I found out she was only a low-grade telesensitive—just a poetess—so I had nothing to worry about as far as having my thoughts read went. I was a little afraid of Sylvia's kidding me about my first romance, but, as it happened, she got interested in one of the guys who was taking the class with us, and she was not only too busy to be bothered with me, but in too vulnerable a position herself.
However, when the actual bombs—or their alien equivalent—struck near our town, I wasn't nearly so happy, especially after they started carrying the wounded into the Psycho Center, which had been turned into a hospital for the duration. I took one look at the gory scene—I had never seen anybody really injured before; few people had, as a matter of fact—and started for the door. But Mother was already blocking the way. It was easy to see from which side of the family Tim had got his talent for prognostication.
"If the telepaths who can pick up all the pain can stand this, Kevin," she said, " you certainly can." And there was no kindness at all in the you .
She gave me a shove toward the nearest stretcher. "Go on—now's your chance to show you're of some use in this world."
Gritting my teeth, I turned to the man on the stretcher. Something had pretty near torn half his face away. It was all there, but not in the right place, and it wasn't pretty. I turned away, caught my mother's eye, and then I didn't even dare to throw up. I looked at that smashed face again and all the first-aid lessons I'd had flew out of my head as if some super-psi had plucked them from me.
The man was bleeding terribly. I had never seen blood pouring out like that before. The first thing to do, I figured sickly, was mop it up. I wet a sponge and dabbed gingerly at the face, but my hands were shaking so hard that the sponge slipped and my fingers were on the raw gaping wound. I could feel the warm viscosity of the blood and nothing, not even my mother, could keep my meal down this time, I thought.
Mother had uttered a sound of exasperation as I dropped the sponge. I could hear her coming toward me. Then I heard her gasp. I looked at my patient and my mouth dropped open. For suddenly there was no wound, no wound at all—just a little blood and the fellow's face was whole again. Not even a scar.
"Wha—wha happened?" he asked. "It doesn't hurt any more!"
He touched his cheek and looked up at me with frightened eyes. And I was frightened, too—too frightened to be sick, too frightened to do anything but stare witlessly at him.
"Touch some of the others, quick!" my mother commanded, pushing astounded attendants away from stretchers.
I touched broken limbs and torn bodies and shattered heads, and they were whole again right away. Everybody in the room was looking at me in the way I had always dreamed of being looked at. Lucy was opening and shutting her beautiful mouth like a beautiful fish. In fact, the whole thing was just like a dream, except that I was awake. I couldn't have imagined all those horrors.
But the horrors soon weren't horrors any more. I began to find them almost pleasing; the worse a wound was, the more I appreciated it. There was so much more satisfaction, virtually an esthetic thrill, in seeing a horrible jagged tear smooth away, heal, not in days, as it would have done under the cure-all, but in seconds.
"Timothy was right," my mother said, her eyes filled with tears, "and I was wrong ever to have doubted. You have a gift, son—" and she said the word son loud and clear so that everybody could hear it—"the greatest gift of all, that of healing." She looked at me proudly. And Lucy and the others looked at me as if I were a god or something.
I felt ... well, good.
"I wonder why we never thought of healing as a potential psi-power," my mother said to me later, when I was catching a snatch of rest and she was lighting cigarettes and offering me cups of coffee in an attempt to make up twenty-six years of indifference, perhaps dislike, all at once.
"The ability to heal is recorded in history, only we never paid much attention to it."
"Recorded?" I asked, a little jealously.
"Of course," she smiled. "Remember the King's Evil?"
I should have known without her reminding me, after all the old books I had read. "Scrofula, wasn't it? They called it that because the touch of certain kings was supposed to cure it ... and other diseases, too, I guess."
She nodded. "Certain people must have had the healing power and that's probably why they originally got to be the rulers."
In a very short time, I became a pretty important person. All the other deficients in the world were tested for the healing power and all of them turned out negative. I proved to be the only human healer alive, and not only that, I could work a thousand times more efficiently and effectively than any of the machines. The government built a hospital just for my work! Wounded people were ferried there from all over the world and I cured them. I could do practically everything except raise the dead and sometimes I wondered whether, with a little practice, I wouldn't be able to do even that.
When I came to my new office, whom did I find waiting there for me but Lucy, her trim figure enhanced by a snug blue and white uniform. "I'm your assistant, Kev," she said shyly.
I looked at her. "You are?"
"I—I hope you want me," she went on, coyness now mixing with apprehension.
I gave her shoulder a squeeze. "I do want you, Lucy. More than I can tell you now. After all this is over, there's something more I want to say. But right now—" I clapped her arm—"there's a job to be done."
"Yes, Kevin," she said, glaring at me for some reason I didn't have time to investigate or interpret at the moment. My patients were waiting for me.
They gave me everything else I could possibly need, except enough sleep, and I myself didn't want that. I wanted to heal. I wanted to show my fellow human beings that, though I couldn't receive or transmit thoughts or foretell the future or move things with my mind, all those powers were useless without life, and that was what I could give.
I took pride in my work. It was good to stop pain and ugliness, to know that, if it weren't for me, these people would be dead or permanently disfigured. In a sense, they were—well, my children; I felt a warm glow of affection toward them.
They felt the same way toward me. I knew because the secret of the hospital soon leaked out—during all those years of peace, the government had lost whatever facility it had for keeping secrets—and people used to come in droves, hoping for a glimpse of me.
The government pointed out that such crowds outside the building might attract the enemy's attention. I was the most important individual on Earth, they told my followers, and my safety couldn't be risked. The human race at this stage was pretty docile. The crowds went away. And it was right that they should; I didn't want to be risked any more than they wanted to risk me.
Plenty of people did come to see me officially—the President, generals, all kinds of big wheels, bringing citations, medals and other obsolete honors they'd revived primarily for me. It was wonderful. I began to love everybody.
"Don't you think you're putting too much of yourself into this, Kev?" Lucy asked me one day.
I gave her an incredulous glance. "You mean I shouldn't help people?"
"Of course you should help them. I didn't mean anything like that. Just ... well, you're getting too bound up in your work."
"Why shouldn't I be?" Then the truth, as I thought, dawned on me. "Are you jealous, Lucy?"
She lowered her eyes. "Not only that, but the war's bound to come to an end, you know, and—"
It was the first part of her sentence that interested me. "Why, do you mean—"
And just then a fresh batch of casualties arrived and I had to tend to them. For the next few days, I was so busy, I didn't get the chance to have the long talk with Lucy I'd wanted....
Then, after only four months, the war suddenly stopped. It seemed that the aliens' weapons, despite their undeniable mysteriousness, were not equal to ours. And they had the added disadvantage of being light-years away from home base. So the remnant of their fleet took off and blew itself up just outside of Mars, which we understood to be the equivalent of unconditional surrender. And it was; we never heard from the Centaurians again.
Peace once more. I had a little mopping up to do at the hospital; then I collected my possessions and went back home after a dignitary—only the Vice President this time—had thanked me on behalf of a grateful country. I wasn't needed any more.
Question:
What is the plot of the story?
Answer:
|
[
"This story takes place in the year 2102 and centers around a family with powers, including telekenisis and teleportation. The narrator is Kevin, one of the sons: he is the only person in the family without powers, a \"psi-deficient\", so he stays at home to take care of the house. The story starts at the breakfast table, where the father teleports in, the mother probes the others' thoughts, and there is grumbling about the goings-on in the household. Timothy, the youngest brother, senses turmoil in the family but is also the most hopeful--he figures that Kevin has a gift they just haven't discovered yet, which is encouraging to Kevin. After everyone else in the family leaves for their jobs, Kevin is left to think about his situation, so he goes for a long walk. Reading is his only other real source of entertainment; he doesn't have many friends because nobody wanted to play sports with someone without telepathic abilities. He couldn't explore space because other planets weren't habitable, so he wondered what would make him stand out. The reader learns that the psi powers were latent in humans and developed with exposure to nuclear energy. When he gets home from his walk, Kevin's entire family is there, processing some news. There are two inhabited planets in Alpha Centauri, and the aliens there might be preparing for war. Kevin partly hoped there would be war for a change of pace, and his mom figured people should start learning first-aid, including Kevin. He had a benefit over his sister because he couldn't sense others' pain in the same way. He met a girl named Lucy in his first-aid class who he liked, and she was a \"low-grade telesensitive\" so he didn't have to worry about his thoughts being read. Once the aliens attacked, things got hard as Kevin had to face the injured people bought to his care. This was especially shocking because injury was not common in his world. This was where Kevin finally found his power: touching the injured people healed them almost instantly. It turned out he was the only human with this power, which was invaluable -- a hospital was even built just for Kevin to work in, where Lucy became his assistant. All at once, he became the most important human on the planet, but the humans had to hide this from their alien adversaries. Lucy was jealous of Kevin but also worried about what would happen to Kevin when the war ended, which it eventually did four months later. The story ends with Kevin returning home after the Vice President informed him that his services were no longer needed. ",
"Kevin Faraday is psi-deficient in a family of five with special psi powers living in a world largely free of disease and conflict. His father is telepathic and uses this ability to help him get to long-distance appointments as a traveling salesman. His middle brother, Danny, has the power of telekinesis and works as a junior partner in a moving company. Kevin's sister, Sylvia, can sense emotions in people, so she is able to tell when he purposefully intensifies his anger to make her feel uncomfortable. The youngest of the family is Timothy, who works as a weather forecaster thanks to his powerful gift of prognostication. Kevin's mother is a psychiatrist with telepathic powers that she uses to read his mind. In fact, most people in the world have some kind of telepathic powers--they can read the minds of others unprotected by mind shields. While the rest of the family treats him awkwardly and goes off to their respective jobs every day, Kevin stays at home to maintain the house. However, even this task makes him feel largely useless because most of the chores can be completed by household machines. Therefore, Kevin spends much of his time daydreaming about what life would have been like for him had he been living in 1960 instead of 2102. He feels a stronger empathy for dying plants than he does for other humans, and this has given him the reputation of callousness. Although Kevin is largely resigned to his fate as a psi-deficient in a world of people with special powers, his brother Tim insists that he has some ability; it simply hasn't been discovered yet. The rest of the family shrugs off this notion, but Kevin secretly latches onto this hope. Because of his inability to tap into the telepathically-broadcast news transmissions, Kevin's family one day alerts him that a starship has returned to Earth from Alpha Centauri, where its crew had discovered two Earth-type planets. This excites Kevin, but unfortunately, the inhabitants of these planets are hostile, and they eventually make their way to Earth to begin a war. In preparation for the war, Kevin's mother encourages him and Sylvia to learn first-aid techniques at the Psycho Center in order to be ready to help the injured. During his training, Kevin meets a girl named Lucy, who flirts with him and admires his strength. When Kevin gets his first patient, he is shocked to discover that he is able to heal the injured man with a simple touch of his hands. Having discovered his new ability, Kevin sets out to heal as many of the wounded as possible; later, he learns that he is the only psi-negative in the world with this ability. Eventually, he is given his own hospital and hailed as a hero by various dignitaries including the President. When the war ends and the aliens surrender, however, Earth is no longer in need of his services, and he is out of a job again.\n",
"In the year 2102, the Faraday family are setting the table and gathering for a meal together in their home. Humans have supernatural powers (psi-powers) that began to show after nuclear energy was developed in the 1960s, and most of the family have special abilities. Father can teleport, Mother (Amy) is a telepathic psychiatrist, Dan (Danny) can move objects via telekinesis, Sylvia is telesensitive, and Tim can predict the future. Kevin (Kev) has no apparent powers, and feels disconnected and isolated from most of his family because without powers he is of little use to society. The exception is his brother Tim, who suggests that there just isn’t a test yet for the powers that Kev has. His father asks if they should send him to a psychiatrist again, and his mother expresses disappointment at the amount of tests that have been run on Kev with no sign of psi-powers. \nKev is crestfallen that he doesn’t really have any life other than going on long walks and watching the house. He is sad he never had the chance to try exploring space, but by the time he was ten years old humans had already concluded that all the other planets were unsuited to human life. \nThere are television-like telepathic projections in the society called “tellies” that those with psi-powers receive. One day, a tellie reports that space explorers from Earth have found two inhabited Earth-type planets in Alpha Centauri. The aliens chased off the humans in their own spaceships and now it is possible that aliens could attack Earth in less than six months. Kev’s mother decides there will be a lot more people in need of medical training to treat casualties if there is an attack, and recruits Sylvia and Kev to train at the Psycho Center. During training, Kev meets a girl named Lucie who is a poet and they develop a fond relationship with each other. When alien weapons begin striking near their town, the casualties start rolling into the Psycho Center and Kev tries to run away at the first sight of the violent wounds. His mother forces him to stay and work. He is so shaky he can’t hold a sponge to clean the blood off a person that is missing half of their face and drops it, accidentally pushing his fingers into the bloody wound. Touching the wound this way cures it completely. Kev quickly grows into a famous sensation who is able to heal any wounds. He is the only person on Earth with this psi-ability, and there is a special clinic built just for him. Lucie becomes his assistant. Presidents and generals visit him and present him with medals and honors. After four months, the war ends and peace returns to Earth. The Vice President thanks Kev on behalf of the country.\n",
"Kevin is the only member of the Faraday family without psi-powers. His two brothers, sister, mother, and father are all extremely powerful individuals, but he, at the ripe age of 26 years old, had nothing. Because of this, he was considered an outcast and was forced to work in their home instead of in the outside world. People pitied him and looked down on him, which drove him crazy. The story begins at the breakfast table with Danny using his powers to levitate food in and out of the kitchen. Chaos ensues as the orange juice crashes into his sister, Sylvia, who senses Kevin’s displeasure at his brazen use of psi-power. Their father soon appears out of thin air with his briefcase, while his mother strolls down and instantly reads Kevin’s mind, only making him madder. The situation escalates until Tim, the youngest, strolls in and claims that Kevin’s powers have yet to present themselves, which gives Kevin hope. His family leaves for work, and Kevin is left at home alone again. \nKevin watches the servomechanisms as they clean and manage the house. Of course, sometimes they break down and he is needed, but largely he has nothing to do and is bored. In the year 2102, Kevin Faraday was considered useless. He takes a long walk that day, and when he returns home, his family is buzzing with the news. A spaceship returned from Alpha Centauri claiming they ran into inhabitable planets filled with humanoid aliens. One of the aliens followed them back to Earth, then turned around and headed home. They were hostile creatures and attacked them on sight. Earth had six months to prepare for the potential of war, so Kevin and his siblings learned first-aid techniques at the Psycho Center. There, Kevin meets Lucy, a cute blonde poetess who expresses interest in him. \nWhen the first bomb strikes, Kevin is faced with his first injured patient. His face had been blown up in the explosion, and Kevin can’t handle the sight, so he tries to run away. He is stopped by his mother, however, who scolds him and sends him back to his patient. As he is mopping his face with a sponge, his hand slips and he accidentally touches his patient skin-to-skin. Miraculously, his injuries are cured, and Kevin’s powers are finally discovered. He is a healer. \nHe heals the rest of the injured with just a touch and soon becomes the most important man in the world. He gets his own special hospital, where Lucy is his assistant, and visits from Presidents, cabinet members, and other people of power. He heals everyone who is injured in the war and loves the new attention. He is the only healer, and those who had his abilities in the past were kings. \nHowever, four months later, the war ends and the Centaurions blow themselves up in surrender. The story ends with a question: will Kevin still be as needed in a post-war society? \n"
] |
49838
|
Jack of No Trades
By EVELYN E. SMITH
Illustrated by CAVAT
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy October 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
I was psick of Psi powers, not having any. Or didn't I? Maybe they'd psee otherwise psomeday!
I walked into the dining room and collided with a floating mass of fabric, which promptly draped itself over me like a sentient shroud.
"Oh, for God's sake, Kevin!" my middle brother's voice came muffled through the folds. "If you can't help, at least don't hinder!"
I managed to struggle out of the tablecloth, even though it seemed to be trying to wrap itself around me. When Danny got excited, he lost his mental grip.
"I could help," I yelled as soon as I got my head free, "if anybody would let me and, what's more, I could set the table a damn sight faster by hand than you do with 'kinesis."
Just then Father appeared at the head of the table. He could as easily have walked downstairs as teleported, but I belonged to a family of exhibitionists. And Father tended to show off as if he were still a kid. Not that he looked his age—he was big and blond, like Danny and Tim and me, and could have passed for our older brother.
"Boys, boys!" he reproved us. "Danny, you ought to be ashamed of yourself—picking on poor Kev."
Even if it hadn't been Danny's fault, he would still have been blamed.
Nobody was ever supposed to raise a voice or a hand or a thought to poor afflicted Kev, because nature had picked on me enough. And the nicer everybody was to me, the nastier I became, since only when they lost their tempers could I get—or so I believed—their true attitude toward me.
How else could I tell?
"Sorry, fella," Dan apologized to me. The tablecloth spread itself out on the table. "Wrinkles," he grumbled to himself. "Wrinkles. And I had it so nice and smooth before. Mother will be furious."
"If she were going to be furious, she'd be furious already," Father reminded him sadly. It must be tough to be married to a deep-probe telepath, I thought, and I felt a sudden wave of sympathy for him. It was so seldom I got the chance to feel sorry for anyone except myself.
"But I think you'll find she understands."
"She knows, all right," Danny remarked as he went on into the kitchen,
"but I'm not sure she always understands."
I was surprised to find him so perceptive on the abstract level, because he wasn't what you might call an understanding person, either.
"There are tensions in this room," my sister announced as she slouched in, not quite awake yet, "and hatred. I could feel them all the way upstairs. And today I'm working on the Sleepsweet Mattress copy, so I must feel absolutely tranquil. Everyone will think beautiful thoughts, please."
She sat down just as a glass of orange juice was arriving at her place; Danny apparently didn't know she'd come in already. The glass bumped into the back of her neck, tilted and poured its contents over her shoulder and down her very considerable decolletage. Being a mere primitive, I couldn't help laughing.
"Danny, you fumbler!" she screamed.
Danny erupted from the kitchen. "How many times have I asked all of you not to sit down until I've got everything on the table? Always a lot of interfering busybodies getting in the way."
"I don't see why you have to set the table at all," she retorted. "A robot could do it better and faster than you. Even Kev could." She turned quickly toward me. "Oh, I am sorry, Kevin."
I didn't say anything; I was too busy pressing my hands down on the back of the chair to make my knuckles turn white.
Sylvia's face turned even whiter. "Father, stop him— stop him! He's hating again! I can't stand it!"
Father looked at me, then at her. "I don't think he can help it, Sylvia."
I grinned. "That's right—I'm just a poor atavism with no control over myself a-tall."
Finally my mother came in from the kitchen; she was an old-fashioned woman and didn't hold with robocooks. One quick glance at me gave her the complete details, even though I quickly protested, "It's illegal to probe anyone without permission."
"I used to probe you to find out when you needed your diapers changed," she said tartly, "and I'll probe you now. You should watch yourself, Sylvia—poor Kevin isn't responsible."
She didn't need to probe to get the blast of naked emotion that spurted out from me. My sister screamed and even Father looked uncomfortable. Danny stomped back into the kitchen, muttering to himself.
Mother's lips tightened. "Sylvia, go upstairs and change your dress. Kevin, do I have to make an appointment for you at the clinic again?" A psychiatrist never diagnosed members of his own family—that is, not officially; they couldn't help offering thumbnail diagnoses any more than they could help having thumbnails.
"No use," I said, deciding it was safe to drop into my chair. "Who can adjust me to an environment to which I'm fundamentally unsuited?"
"Maybe there is something physically wrong with him, Amy," my father suggested hopefully. "Maybe you should make an appointment for him at the cure-all?"
Mother shook her neatly coiffed head. "He's been to it dozens of times and he always checks out in splendid shape. None of us can spare the time to go with him again, just on an off-chance, and he could hardly be allowed to make such a long trip all by himself. Pity there isn't a machine in every community, but, then, we don't really need them."
Now that the virus diseases had been licked, people hardly ever got sick any more and, when they did, it was mostly psychosomatic. Life was so well organized that there weren't even many accidents these days. It was a safe, orderly existence for those who fitted into it—which accounted for more than ninety-five per cent of the population. The only ones who didn't adjust were those who couldn't, like me—psi-deficients, throwbacks to an earlier era. There were no physical cripples, because anybody could have a new arm or a new leg grafted on, but you couldn't graft psi powers onto an atavism or, if you could, the technique hadn't been developed yet.
"I feel a sense of impending doom brooding over this household," my youngest brother remarked cheerfully as he vaulted into his chair.
"You always do, Timothy," my mother said, unfolding her napkin. "And I must say it's not in good taste, especially at breakfast."
He reached for his juice. "Guess this is a doomed household. And what was all that emotional uproar about?"
"The usual," Sylvia said from the doorway before anyone else could answer. She slid warily into her chair. "Hey, Dan, I'm here!" she called. "If anything else comes in, it comes in manually, understand?"
"Oh, all right." Dan emerged from the kitchen with a tray of food floating ahead of him.
"The usual? Trouble with Kev?" Tim looked at me narrowly. "Somehow my sense of ominousness is connected with him."
"Well, that's perfectly natural—" Sylvia began, then stopped as Mother caught her eye.
"I didn't mean that," Tim said. "I still say Kev's got something we can't figure out."
"You've been saying that for years," Danny protested, "and he's been tested for every faculty under the Sun. He can't telepath or teleport or telekinesthesize or even teletype. He can't precognize or prefix or prepossess. He can't—"
"Strictly a bundle of no-talent, that's me," I interrupted, trying to keep my animal feelings from getting the better of me. That was how my family thought of me, I knew—as an animal, and not a very lovable one, either.
"No," Tim said, "he's just got something we haven't developed a test for. It'll come out some day, you'll see." He smiled at me.
I smiled at him gratefully; he was the only member of my family who really seemed to like me in spite of my handicap. "It won't work, Tim. I know you're trying to be kind, but—"
"He's not saying it just to be kind," my mother put in. "He means it. Not that I want to arouse false hopes, Kevin," she added with grim scrupulousness. "Tim's awfully young yet and I wouldn't trust his extracurricular prognostications too far."
Nonetheless, I couldn't help feeling a feeble renewal of old hopes. After all, young or not, Tim was a hell of a good prognosticator; he wouldn't have risen so rapidly to the position he held in the Weather Bureau if he hadn't been pretty near tops in foreboding.
Mother smiled sadly at my thoughts, but I didn't let that discourage me. As Danny had said, she knew but she didn't really understand . Nobody, for all of his or her psi power, really understood me.
Breakfast was finally over and the rest of my family dispersed to their various jobs. Father simply took his briefcase and disappeared—he was a traveling salesman and he had a morning appointment clear across the continent. The others, not having his particular gift, had to take the helibus to their different destinations. Mother, as I said, was a psychiatrist. Sylvia wrote advertising copy. Tim was a meteorologist. Dan was a junior executive in a furniture moving company and expected a promotion to senior rank as soon as he achieved a better mental grip on pianos.
Only I had no job, no profession, no place in life. Of course there were certain menial tasks a psi-negative could perform, but my parents would have none of them—partly for my sake, but mostly for the sake of their own community standing.
"We don't need what little money Kev could bring in," my father always said. "I can afford to support my family. He can stay home and take care of the house."
And that's what I did. Not that there was much to do except call a techno whenever one of the servomechanisms missed a beat. True enough, those things had to be watched mighty carefully because, if they broke down, it sometimes took days before the repair and/or replacement robots could come. There never were enough of them because ours was a constructive society. Still, being a machine-sitter isn't very much of a career. And every function that wasn't the prerogative of a machine could be done ten times more quickly and efficiently by some member of my family than I could do it. If I went ahead and did something anyway, they would just do it all over again when they got home.
So I had nothing to do all day. I had a special dispensation to take books out of the local Archives, because I was a deficient and couldn't receive the tellie programs. Almost everybody on Earth was telepathic to some degree and could get the amplified projections even if he couldn't transmit or receive with his natural powers. But I got nothing. I had to derive all my recreation from reading, and you can get awfully tired of books, especially when they're all at least a hundred years old and written by primitives. I could borrow sound tapes, but they also bored me after a while.
I thought maybe I could develop a talent for composing or painting, which would classify me as a telesensitive—artistic ability being considered as the oldest, if least important, psi power—but I couldn't even do anything like that.
About all there was left for me was to take long walks. Athletics were out of the question; I couldn't compete with psi-boys and they didn't want to compete with me. All the people in the neighborhood knew me and were nice to me, but I didn't need to be a 'path to tell what they were saying to one another when I hove into sight. "There's that oldest Faraday boy. Pity, such a talented family, to have a defective."
I didn't have a girl, either. Although some of them were sort of attracted to me—I could see that—they could hardly go out with me without exposing themselves to ridicule. In their sandals, I would have done the same thing, but that didn't stop me from hating them.
I wished I had been born a couple of hundred years ago—before people started playing around with nuclear energy and filling the air with radiations that they were afraid would turn human beings into hideous monsters. Instead, they developed the psi powers that had always been latent in the species until we developed into a race of supermen. I don't know why I say we —in 1960 or so, I might have been considered superior, but in 2102 I was just the Faradays' idiot boy.
Exploring space should have been my hope. If there had been anything useful or interesting on any of the other planets, I might have found a niche for myself there. In totally new surroundings, the psi powers geared to another environment might not be an advantage. But by the time I was ten, it was discovered that the other planets were just barren hunks of rock, with pressures and climates and atmospheres drastically unsuited to human life. A year or so before, the hyperdrive had been developed on Earth and ships had been sent out to explore the stars, but I had no hope left in that direction any more.
I was an atavism in a world of peace and plenty. Peace, because people couldn't indulge in war or even crime with so many telepaths running around—not because, I told myself, the capacity for primitive behavior wasn't just as latent in everybody else as the psi talent seemed latent in me. Tim must be right, I thought—I must have some undreamed-of power that only the right circumstances would bring out. But what was that power?
For years I had speculated on what my potential talent might be, explored every wild possibility I could conceive of and found none productive of even an ambiguous result with which I could fool myself. As I approached adulthood, I began to concede that I was probably nothing more than what I seemed to be—a simple psi-negative. Yet, from time to time, hope surged up again, as it had today, in spite of my knowledge that my hope was an impossibility. Who ever heard of latent psi powers showing themselves in an individual as old as twenty-six?
I was almost alone in the parks where I used to walk, because people liked to commune with one another those days rather than with nature. Even gardening had very little popularity. But I found myself most at home in those woodland—or, rather, pseudo-woodland—surroundings, able to identify more readily with the trees and flowers than I could with my own kind. A fallen tree or a broken blossom would excite more sympathy from me than the minor catastrophes that will beset any household, no matter how gifted, and I would shy away from bloody noses or cut fingers, thus giving myself a reputation for callousness as well as extrasensory imbecility.
However, I was no more callous in steering clear of human breakdowns than I was in not shedding tears over the household machines when they broke down, for I felt no more closely akin to my parents and siblings than I did to the mechanisms that served and, sometimes, failed us.
On that day, I walked farther than I had intended and, by the time I got back home, I found the rest of my family had returned before me. They seemed to be excited about something and were surprised to see me so calm.
"Aren't you even interested in anything outside your own immediate concerns, Kev?" Sylvia demanded, despite Father's efforts to shush her.
"Can't you remember that Kev isn't able to receive the tellies?" Tim shot back at her. "He probably doesn't even know what's happened."
"Well, what did happen?" I asked, trying not to snap.
"One starship got back from Alpha Centauri," Danny said excitedly.
"There are two inhabited Earth-type planets there!"
This was for me; this was it at last! I tried not to show my enthusiasm, though I knew that was futile. My relatives could keep their thoughts and emotions from me; I couldn't keep mine from them.
"What kind of life inhabits them? Humanoid?"
"Uh-uh." Danny shook his head. "And hostile. The crew of the starship says they were attacked immediately on landing. When they turned and left, they were followed here by one of the alien ships. Must be a pretty advanced race to have spaceships. Anyhow, the extraterrestrial ship headed back as soon as it got a fix on where ours was going."
"But if they're hostile," I said thoughtfully, "it might mean war."
"Of course. That's why everybody's so wrought up. We hope it's peace, but we'll have to prepare for war just in case."
There hadn't been a war on Earth for well over a hundred years, but we hadn't been so foolish as to obliterate all knowledge of military techniques and weapons. The alien ship wouldn't be able to come back with reinforcements—if such were its intention—in less than six months. This meant time to get together a stockpile of weapons, though we had no idea of how effective our defenses would be against the aliens' armament.
They might have strange and terrible weapons against which we would be powerless. On the other hand, our side would have the benefits of telekinetically guided missiles, teleported saboteurs, telepaths to pick up the alien strategy, and prognosticators to determine the outcome of each battle and see whether it was worth fighting in the first place.
Everybody on Earth hoped for peace. Everybody, that is, except me. I had been unable to achieve any sense of identity with the world in which I lived, and it was almost worth the loss of personal survival to know that my own smug species could look silly against a still more talented race.
"It isn't so much our defense that worries me," my mother muttered, "as lack of adequate medical machinery. War is bound to mean casualties and there aren't enough cure-alls on the planet to take care of them. It's useless to expect the government to build more right now; they'll be too busy producing weapons. Sylvia, you'd better take a leave of absence from your job and come down to Psycho Center to learn first-aid techniques. And you too, Kevin," she added, obviously a little surprised herself at what she was saying. "Probably you'd be even better at it than Sylvia since you aren't sensitive to other people's pain."
I looked at her.
"It is an ill wind," she agreed, smiling wryly, "but don't let me catch you thinking that way, Kevin. Can't you see it would be better that there should be no war and you should remain useless?"
I couldn't see it, of course, and she knew that, with her wretched talent for stripping away my feeble attempts at privacy. Psi-powers usually included some ability to form a mental shield; being without one, I was necessarily devoid of the other.
My attitude didn't matter, though, because it was definitely war. The aliens came back with a fleet clearly bent on our annihilation—even the 'paths couldn't figure out their motives, for the thought pattern was entirely different from ours—and the war was on.
I had enjoyed learning first-aid; it was the first time I had ever worked with people as an equal. And I was good at it because psi-powers aren't much of an advantage there. Telekinesis maybe a little, but I was big enough to lift anybody without needing any superhuman abilities—normal human abilities, rather.
"Gee, Mr. Faraday," one of the other students breathed, "you're so strong. And without 'kinesis or anything."
I looked at her and liked what I saw. She was blonde and pretty. "My name's not Mr. Faraday," I said. "It's Kevin."
"My name's Lucy," she giggled.
No girl had ever giggled at me in that way before. Immediately I started to envision a beautiful future for the two of us, then flushed when I realized that she might be a telepath. But she was winding a tourniquet around the arm of another member of the class with apparent unconcern.
"Hey, quit that!" the windee yelled. "You're making it too tight! I'll be mortified!"
So Lucy was obviously not a telepath. Later I found out she was only a low-grade telesensitive—just a poetess—so I had nothing to worry about as far as having my thoughts read went. I was a little afraid of Sylvia's kidding me about my first romance, but, as it happened, she got interested in one of the guys who was taking the class with us, and she was not only too busy to be bothered with me, but in too vulnerable a position herself.
However, when the actual bombs—or their alien equivalent—struck near our town, I wasn't nearly so happy, especially after they started carrying the wounded into the Psycho Center, which had been turned into a hospital for the duration. I took one look at the gory scene—I had never seen anybody really injured before; few people had, as a matter of fact—and started for the door. But Mother was already blocking the way. It was easy to see from which side of the family Tim had got his talent for prognostication.
"If the telepaths who can pick up all the pain can stand this, Kevin," she said, " you certainly can." And there was no kindness at all in the you .
She gave me a shove toward the nearest stretcher. "Go on—now's your chance to show you're of some use in this world."
Gritting my teeth, I turned to the man on the stretcher. Something had pretty near torn half his face away. It was all there, but not in the right place, and it wasn't pretty. I turned away, caught my mother's eye, and then I didn't even dare to throw up. I looked at that smashed face again and all the first-aid lessons I'd had flew out of my head as if some super-psi had plucked them from me.
The man was bleeding terribly. I had never seen blood pouring out like that before. The first thing to do, I figured sickly, was mop it up. I wet a sponge and dabbed gingerly at the face, but my hands were shaking so hard that the sponge slipped and my fingers were on the raw gaping wound. I could feel the warm viscosity of the blood and nothing, not even my mother, could keep my meal down this time, I thought.
Mother had uttered a sound of exasperation as I dropped the sponge. I could hear her coming toward me. Then I heard her gasp. I looked at my patient and my mouth dropped open. For suddenly there was no wound, no wound at all—just a little blood and the fellow's face was whole again. Not even a scar.
"Wha—wha happened?" he asked. "It doesn't hurt any more!"
He touched his cheek and looked up at me with frightened eyes. And I was frightened, too—too frightened to be sick, too frightened to do anything but stare witlessly at him.
"Touch some of the others, quick!" my mother commanded, pushing astounded attendants away from stretchers.
I touched broken limbs and torn bodies and shattered heads, and they were whole again right away. Everybody in the room was looking at me in the way I had always dreamed of being looked at. Lucy was opening and shutting her beautiful mouth like a beautiful fish. In fact, the whole thing was just like a dream, except that I was awake. I couldn't have imagined all those horrors.
But the horrors soon weren't horrors any more. I began to find them almost pleasing; the worse a wound was, the more I appreciated it. There was so much more satisfaction, virtually an esthetic thrill, in seeing a horrible jagged tear smooth away, heal, not in days, as it would have done under the cure-all, but in seconds.
"Timothy was right," my mother said, her eyes filled with tears, "and I was wrong ever to have doubted. You have a gift, son—" and she said the word son loud and clear so that everybody could hear it—"the greatest gift of all, that of healing." She looked at me proudly. And Lucy and the others looked at me as if I were a god or something.
I felt ... well, good.
"I wonder why we never thought of healing as a potential psi-power," my mother said to me later, when I was catching a snatch of rest and she was lighting cigarettes and offering me cups of coffee in an attempt to make up twenty-six years of indifference, perhaps dislike, all at once.
"The ability to heal is recorded in history, only we never paid much attention to it."
"Recorded?" I asked, a little jealously.
"Of course," she smiled. "Remember the King's Evil?"
I should have known without her reminding me, after all the old books I had read. "Scrofula, wasn't it? They called it that because the touch of certain kings was supposed to cure it ... and other diseases, too, I guess."
She nodded. "Certain people must have had the healing power and that's probably why they originally got to be the rulers."
In a very short time, I became a pretty important person. All the other deficients in the world were tested for the healing power and all of them turned out negative. I proved to be the only human healer alive, and not only that, I could work a thousand times more efficiently and effectively than any of the machines. The government built a hospital just for my work! Wounded people were ferried there from all over the world and I cured them. I could do practically everything except raise the dead and sometimes I wondered whether, with a little practice, I wouldn't be able to do even that.
When I came to my new office, whom did I find waiting there for me but Lucy, her trim figure enhanced by a snug blue and white uniform. "I'm your assistant, Kev," she said shyly.
I looked at her. "You are?"
"I—I hope you want me," she went on, coyness now mixing with apprehension.
I gave her shoulder a squeeze. "I do want you, Lucy. More than I can tell you now. After all this is over, there's something more I want to say. But right now—" I clapped her arm—"there's a job to be done."
"Yes, Kevin," she said, glaring at me for some reason I didn't have time to investigate or interpret at the moment. My patients were waiting for me.
They gave me everything else I could possibly need, except enough sleep, and I myself didn't want that. I wanted to heal. I wanted to show my fellow human beings that, though I couldn't receive or transmit thoughts or foretell the future or move things with my mind, all those powers were useless without life, and that was what I could give.
I took pride in my work. It was good to stop pain and ugliness, to know that, if it weren't for me, these people would be dead or permanently disfigured. In a sense, they were—well, my children; I felt a warm glow of affection toward them.
They felt the same way toward me. I knew because the secret of the hospital soon leaked out—during all those years of peace, the government had lost whatever facility it had for keeping secrets—and people used to come in droves, hoping for a glimpse of me.
The government pointed out that such crowds outside the building might attract the enemy's attention. I was the most important individual on Earth, they told my followers, and my safety couldn't be risked. The human race at this stage was pretty docile. The crowds went away. And it was right that they should; I didn't want to be risked any more than they wanted to risk me.
Plenty of people did come to see me officially—the President, generals, all kinds of big wheels, bringing citations, medals and other obsolete honors they'd revived primarily for me. It was wonderful. I began to love everybody.
"Don't you think you're putting too much of yourself into this, Kev?" Lucy asked me one day.
I gave her an incredulous glance. "You mean I shouldn't help people?"
"Of course you should help them. I didn't mean anything like that. Just ... well, you're getting too bound up in your work."
"Why shouldn't I be?" Then the truth, as I thought, dawned on me. "Are you jealous, Lucy?"
She lowered her eyes. "Not only that, but the war's bound to come to an end, you know, and—"
It was the first part of her sentence that interested me. "Why, do you mean—"
And just then a fresh batch of casualties arrived and I had to tend to them. For the next few days, I was so busy, I didn't get the chance to have the long talk with Lucy I'd wanted....
Then, after only four months, the war suddenly stopped. It seemed that the aliens' weapons, despite their undeniable mysteriousness, were not equal to ours. And they had the added disadvantage of being light-years away from home base. So the remnant of their fleet took off and blew itself up just outside of Mars, which we understood to be the equivalent of unconditional surrender. And it was; we never heard from the Centaurians again.
Peace once more. I had a little mopping up to do at the hospital; then I collected my possessions and went back home after a dignitary—only the Vice President this time—had thanked me on behalf of a grateful country. I wasn't needed any more.
|
Who is Magnan, and what is his role in and relevance to the story?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Aide Memoire by Keith Laumer.
Relevant chunks:
Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
AIDE MEMOIRE
BY KEITH LAUMER
The Fustians looked like turtles—but
they could move fast when they chose!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1962.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Across the table from Retief, Ambassador Magnan rustled a stiff sheet
of parchment and looked grave.
"This aide memoire," he said, "was just handed to me by the Cultural
Attache. It's the third on the subject this week. It refers to the
matter of sponsorship of Youth groups—"
"Some youths," Retief said. "Average age, seventy-five."
"The Fustians are a long-lived people," Magnan snapped. "These matters
are relative. At seventy-five, a male Fustian is at a trying age—"
"That's right. He'll try anything—in the hope it will maim somebody."
"Precisely the problem," Magnan said. "But the Youth Movement is
the important news in today's political situation here on Fust. And
sponsorship of Youth groups is a shrewd stroke on the part of the
Terrestrial Embassy. At my suggestion, well nigh every member of the
mission has leaped at the opportunity to score a few p—that is, cement
relations with this emergent power group—the leaders of the future.
You, Retief, as Councillor, are the outstanding exception."
"I'm not convinced these hoodlums need my help in organizing their
rumbles," Retief said. "Now, if you have a proposal for a pest control
group—"
"To the Fustians this is no jesting matter," Magnan cut in. "This
group—" he glanced at the paper—"known as the Sexual, Cultural, and
Athletic Recreational Society, or SCARS for short, has been awaiting
sponsorship for a matter of weeks now."
"Meaning they want someone to buy them a clubhouse, uniforms, equipment
and anything else they need to complete their sexual, cultural and
athletic development," Retief said.
"If we don't act promptly," Magnan said, "the Groaci Embassy may well
anticipate us. They're very active here."
"That's an idea," said Retief. "Let 'em. After awhile they'll go broke
instead of us."
"Nonsense. The group requires a sponsor. I can't actually order you to
step forward. However...." Magnan let the sentence hang in the air.
Retief raised one eyebrow.
"For a minute there," he said, "I thought you were going to make a
positive statement."
Magnan leaned back, lacing his fingers over his stomach. "I don't think
you'll find a diplomat of my experience doing anything so naive," he
said.
"I like the adult Fustians," said Retief. "Too bad they have to lug
half a ton of horn around on their backs. I wonder if surgery would
help."
"Great heavens, Retief," Magnan sputtered. "I'm amazed that even you
would bring up a matter of such delicacy. A race's unfortunate physical
characteristics are hardly a fit matter for Terrestrial curiosity."
"Well, of course your experience of the Fustian mentality is greater
than mine. I've only been here a month. But it's been my experience,
Mr. Ambassador, that few races are above improving on nature. Otherwise
you, for example, would be tripping over your beard."
Magnan shuddered. "Please—never mention the idea to a Fustian."
Retief stood. "My own program for the day includes going over to the
dockyards. There are some features of this new passenger liner the
Fustians are putting together that I want to look into. With your
permission, Mr. Ambassador...?"
Magnan snorted. "Your pre-occupation with the trivial disturbs me,
Retief. More interest in substantive matters—such as working with
Youth groups—would create a far better impression."
"Before getting too involved with these groups, it might be a good idea
to find out a little more about them," said Retief. "Who organizes
them? There are three strong political parties here on Fust. What's the
alignment of this SCARS organization?"
"You forget, these are merely teenagers, so to speak," Magnan said.
"Politics mean nothing to them ... yet."
"Then there are the Groaci. Why their passionate interest in a
two-horse world like Fust? Normally they're concerned with nothing but
business. But what has Fust got that they could use?"
"You may rule out the commercial aspect in this instance," said Magnan.
"Fust possesses a vigorous steel-age manufacturing economy. The Groaci
are barely ahead of them."
"Barely," said Retief. "Just over the line into crude atomics ... like
fission bombs."
Magnan shook his head, turned back to his papers. "What market exists
for such devices on a world at peace? I suggest you address your
attention to the less spectacular but more rewarding work of studying
the social patterns of the local youth."
"I've studied them," said Retief. "And before I meet any of the local
youth socially I want to get myself a good blackjack."
II
Retief left the sprawling bungalow-type building that housed the
chancery of the Terrestrial Embassy, swung aboard a passing flat-car
and leaned back against the wooden guard rail as the heavy vehicle
trundled through the city toward the looming gantries of the shipyards.
It was a cool morning. A light breeze carried the fishy odor of Fusty
dwellings across the broad cobbled avenue. A few mature Fustians
lumbered heavily along in the shade of the low buildings, audibly
wheezing under the burden of their immense carapaces. Among them,
shell-less youths trotted briskly on scaly stub legs. The driver of the
flat-car, a labor-caste Fustian with his guild colors emblazoned on his
back, heaved at the tiller, swung the unwieldy conveyance through the
shipyard gates, creaked to a halt.
"Thus I come to the shipyard with frightful speed," he said in Fustian.
"Well I know the way of the naked-backs, who move always in haste."
Retief climbed down, handed him a coin. "You should take up
professional racing," he said. "Daredevil."
He crossed the littered yard and tapped at the door of a rambling shed.
Boards creaked inside. Then the door swung back.
A gnarled ancient with tarnished facial scales and a weathered carapace
peered out at Retief.
"Long-may-you-sleep," said Retief. "I'd like to take a look around, if
you don't mind. I understand you're laying the bedplate for your new
liner today."
"May-you-dream-of-the-deeps," the old fellow mumbled. He waved a stumpy
arm toward a group of shell-less Fustians standing by a massive hoist.
"The youths know more of bedplates than do I, who but tend the place of
papers."
"I know how you feel, old-timer," said Retief. "That sounds like the
story of my life. Among your papers do you have a set of plans for the
vessel? I understand it's to be a passenger liner."
The oldster nodded. He shuffled to a drawing file, rummaged, pulled out
a sheaf of curled prints and spread them on the table. Retief stood
silently, running a finger over the uppermost drawing, tracing lines....
"What does the naked-back here?" barked a deep voice behind Retief. He
turned. A heavy-faced Fustian youth, wrapped in a mantle, stood at the
open door. Beady yellow eyes set among fine scales bored into Retief.
"I came to take a look at your new liner," said Retief.
"We need no prying foreigners here," the youth snapped. His eye fell on
the drawings. He hissed in sudden anger.
"Doddering hulk!" he snapped at the ancient. "May you toss in
nightmares! Put by the plans!"
"My mistake," Retief said. "I didn't know this was a secret project."
The youth hesitated. "It is not a secret project," he muttered. "Why
should it be secret?"
"You tell me."
The youth worked his jaws and rocked his head from side to side in the
Fusty gesture of uncertainty. "There is nothing to conceal," he said.
"We merely construct a passenger liner."
"Then you don't mind if I look over the drawings," said Retief. "Who
knows? Maybe some day I'll want to reserve a suite for the trip out."
The youth turned and disappeared. Retief grinned at the oldster. "Went
for his big brother, I guess," he said. "I have a feeling I won't get
to study these in peace here. Mind if I copy them?"
"Willingly, light-footed one," said the old Fustian. "And mine is the
shame for the discourtesy of youth."
Retief took out a tiny camera, flipped a copying lens in place, leafed
through the drawings, clicking the shutter.
"A plague on these youths," said the oldster, "who grow more virulent
day by day."
"Why don't you elders clamp down?"
"Agile are they and we are slow of foot. And this unrest is new.
Unknown in my youth was such insolence."
"The police—"
"Bah!" the ancient rumbled. "None have we worthy of the name, nor have
we needed ought ere now."
"What's behind it?"
"They have found leaders. The spiv, Slock, is one. And I fear they plot
mischief." He pointed to the window. "They come, and a Soft One with
them."
Retief pocketed the camera, glanced out the window. A pale-featured
Groaci with an ornately decorated crest stood with the youths, who eyed
the hut, then started toward it.
"That's the military attache of the Groaci Embassy," Retief said. "I
wonder what he and the boys are cooking up together?"
"Naught that augurs well for the dignity of Fust," the oldster rumbled.
"Flee, agile one, while I engage their attentions."
"I was just leaving," Retief said. "Which way out?"
"The rear door," the Fustian gestured with a stubby member. "Rest well,
stranger on these shores." He moved to the entrance.
"Same to you, pop," said Retief. "And thanks."
He eased through the narrow back entrance, waited until voices were
raised at the front of the shed, then strolled off toward the gate.
The second dark of the third cycle was lightening when Retief left the
Embassy technical library and crossed the corridor to his office. He
flipped on a light. A note was tucked under a paperweight:
"Retief—I shall expect your attendance at the IAS dinner at first
dark of the fourth cycle. There will be a brief but, I hope, impressive
Sponsorship ceremony for the SCARS group, with full press coverage,
arrangements for which I have managed to complete in spite of your
intransigence."
Retief snorted and glanced at his watch. Less than three hours. Just
time to creep home by flat-car, dress in ceremonial uniform and creep
back.
Outside he flagged a lumbering bus. He stationed himself in a corner
and watched the yellow sun, Beta, rise rapidly above the low skyline.
The nearby sea was at high tide now, under the pull of the major sun
and the three moons, and the stiff breeze carried a mist of salt spray.
Retief turned up his collar against the dampness. In half an hour he
would be perspiring under the vertical rays of a third-noon sun, but
the thought failed to keep the chill off.
Two Youths clambered up on the platform, moving purposefully toward
Retief. He moved off the rail, watching them, weight balanced.
"That's close enough, kids," he said. "Plenty of room on this scow. No
need to crowd up."
"There are certain films," the lead Fustian muttered. His voice was
unusually deep for a Youth. He was wrapped in a heavy cloak and moved
awkwardly. His adolescence was nearly at an end, Retief guessed.
"I told you once," said Retief. "Don't crowd me."
The two stepped close, slit mouths snapping in anger. Retief put out a
foot, hooked it behind the scaly leg of the overaged juvenile and threw
his weight against the cloaked chest. The clumsy Fustian tottered, fell
heavily. Retief was past him and off the flat-car before the other
Youth had completed his vain lunge toward the spot Retief had occupied.
The Terrestrial waved cheerfully at the pair, hopped aboard another
vehicle, watched his would-be assailants lumber down from their car,
tiny heads twisted to follow his retreating figure.
So they wanted the film? Retief reflected, thumbing a cigar alight.
They were a little late. He had already filed it in the Embassy vault,
after running a copy for the reference files.
And a comparison of the drawings with those of the obsolete Mark XXXV
battle cruiser used two hundred years earlier by the Concordiat Naval
Arm showed them to be almost identical, gun emplacements and all. The
term "obsolete" was a relative one. A ship which had been outmoded in
the armories of the Galactic Powers could still be king of the walk in
the Eastern Arm.
But how had these two known of the film? There had been no one present
but himself and the old-timer—and he was willing to bet the elderly
Fustian hadn't told them anything.
At least not willingly....
Retief frowned, dropped the cigar over the side, waited until the
flat-car negotiated a mud-wallow, then swung down and headed for the
shipyard.
The door, hinges torn loose, had been propped loosely back in position.
Retief looked around at the battered interior of the shed. The old
fellow had put up a struggle.
There were deep drag-marks in the dust behind the building. Retief
followed them across the yard. They disappeared under the steel door of
a warehouse.
Retief glanced around. Now, at the mid-hour of the fourth cycle, the
workmen were heaped along the edge of the refreshment pond, deep in
their siesta. He took a multi-bladed tool from a pocket, tried various
fittings in the lock. It snicked open.
He eased the door aside far enough to enter.
Heaped bales loomed before him. Snapping on the tiny lamp in the handle
of the combination tool, Retief looked over the pile. One stack seemed
out of alignment ... and the dust had been scraped from the floor
before it. He pocketed the light, climbed up on the bales, looked over
into a nest made by stacking the bundles around a clear spot. The aged
Fustian lay in it, on his back, a heavy sack tied over his head.
Retief dropped down inside the ring of bales, sawed at the tough twine
and pulled the sack free.
"It's me, old fellow," Retief said. "The nosy stranger. Sorry I got you
into this."
The oldster threshed his gnarled legs. He rocked slightly and fell
back. "A curse on the cradle that rocked their infant slumbers," he
rumbled. "But place me back on my feet and I hunt down the youth,
Slock, though he flee to the bottommost muck of the Sea of Torments."
"How am I going to get you out of here? Maybe I'd better get some help."
"Nay. The perfidious Youths abound here," said the old Fustian. "It
would be your life."
"I doubt if they'd go that far."
"Would they not?" The Fustian stretched his neck. "Cast your light
here. But for the toughness of my hide...."
Retief put the beam of the light on the leathery neck. A great smear of
thick purplish blood welled from a ragged cut. The oldster chuckled, a
sound like a seal coughing.
"Traitor, they called me. For long they sawed at me—in vain. Then
they trussed me and dumped me here. They think to return with weapons
to complete the task."
"Weapons? I thought it was illegal!"
"Their evil genius, the Soft One," said the Fustian. "He would provide
fuel to the Devil himself."
"The Groaci again," said Retief. "I wonder what their angle is."
"And I must confess, I told them of you, ere I knew their full
intentions. Much can I tell you of their doings. But first, I pray, the
block and tackle."
Retief found the hoist where the Fustian directed him, maneuvered it
into position, hooked onto the edge of the carapace and hauled away.
The immense Fustian rose slowly, teetered ... then flopped on his chest.
Slowly he got to his feet.
"My name is Whonk, fleet one," he said. "My cows are yours."
"Thanks. I'm Retief. I'd like to meet the girls some time. But right
now, let's get out of here."
Whonk leaned his bulk against the ponderous stacks of baled kelp,
bulldozed them aside. "Slow am I to anger," he said, "but implacable in
my wrath. Slock, beware!"
"Hold it," said Retief suddenly. He sniffed. "What's that odor?" He
flashed the light around, played it over a dry stain on the floor. He
knelt, sniffed at the spot.
"What kind of cargo was stacked here, Whonk? And where is it now?"
Whonk considered. "There were drums," he said. "Four of them, quite
small, painted an evil green, the property of the Soft Ones, the
Groaci. They lay here a day and a night. At full dark of the first
period they came with stevedores and loaded them aboard the barge
Moss
Rock
."
"The VIP boat. Who's scheduled to use it?"
"I know not. But what matters this? Let us discuss cargo movements
after I have settled a score with certain Youths."
"We'd better follow this up first, Whonk. There's only one substance I
know of that's transported in drums and smells like that blot on the
floor. That's titanite: the hottest explosive this side of a uranium
pile."
III
Beta was setting as Retief, Whonk puffing at his heels, came up to the
sentry box beside the gangway leading to the plush interior of the
official luxury space barge
Moss Rock
.
"A sign of the times," said Whonk, glancing inside the empty shelter.
"A guard should stand here, but I see him not. Doubtless he crept away
to sleep."
"Let's go aboard and take a look around."
They entered the ship. Soft lights glowed in utter silence. A rough box
stood on the floor, rollers and pry-bars beside it—a discordant note
in the muted luxury of the setting. Whonk rummaged in it.
"Curious," he said. "What means this?" He held up a stained cloak of
orange and green, a metal bracelet, papers.
"Orange and green," mused Relief. "Whose colors are those?"
"I know not." Whonk glanced at the arm-band. "But this is lettered." He
passed the metal band to Retief.
"SCARS," Retief read. He looked at Whonk. "It seems to me I've heard
the name before," he murmured. "Let's get back to the Embassy—fast."
Back on the ramp Retief heard a sound ... and turned in time to duck
the charge of a hulking Fustian youth who thundered past him and
fetched up against the broad chest of Whonk, who locked him in a warm
embrace.
"Nice catch, Whonk. Where'd he sneak out of?"
"The lout hid there by the storage bin," rumbled Whonk. The captive
youth thumped fists and toes fruitlessly against the oldster's carapace.
"Hang onto him," said Retief. "He looks like the biting kind."
"No fear. Clumsy I am, yet not without strength."
"Ask him where the titanite is tucked away."
"Speak, witless grub," growled Whonk, "lest I tweak you in twain."
The youth gurgled.
"Better let up before you make a mess of him," said Retief. Whonk
lifted the Youth clear of the floor, then flung him down with a thump
that made the ground quiver. The younger Fustian glared up at the
elder, mouth snapping.
"This one was among those who trussed me and hid me away for the
killing," said Whonk. "In his repentance he will tell all to his elder."
"That's the same young squirt that tried to strike up an acquaintance
with me on the bus," Retief said. "He gets around."
The youth scrambled to hands and knees, scuttled for freedom. Retief
planted a foot on his dragging cloak; it ripped free. He stared at the
bare back of the Fustian—
"By the Great Egg!" Whonk exclaimed, tripping the refugee as he tried
to rise. "This is no Youth! His carapace has been taken from him!"
Retief looked at the scarred back. "I thought he looked a little old.
But I thought—"
"This is not possible," Whonk said wonderingly. "The great nerve trunks
are deeply involved. Not even the cleverest surgeon could excise the
carapace and leave the patient living."
"It looks like somebody did the trick. But let's take this boy with us
and get out of here. His folks may come home."
"Too late," said Whonk. Retief turned.
Three youths came from behind the sheds.
"Well," Retief said. "It looks like the SCARS are out in force tonight.
Where's your pal?" he said to the advancing trio. "The sticky little
bird with the eye-stalks? Back at his Embassy, leaving you suckers
holding the bag, I'll bet."
"Shelter behind me, Retief," said Whonk.
"Go get 'em, old-timer." Retief stooped, picked up one of the pry-bars.
"I'll jump around and distract them."
Whonk let out a whistling roar and charged for the immature Fustians.
They fanned out ... and one tripped, sprawled on his face. Retief
whirled the metal bar he had thrust between the Fustian's legs, slammed
it against the skull of another, who shook his head, turned on
Retief ... and bounced off the steel hull of the
Moss Rock
as Whonk
took him in full charge.
Retief used the bar on another head. His third blow laid the Fustian
on the pavement, oozing purple. The other two club members departed
hastily, seriously dented but still mobile.
Retief leaned on his club, breathing hard. "Tough heads these kids
have got. I'm tempted to chase those two lads down, but I've got
another errand to run. I don't know who the Groaci intended to blast,
but I have a sneaking suspicion somebody of importance was scheduled
for a boat ride in the next few hours. And three drums of titanite is
enough to vaporize this tub and everyone aboard her."
"The plot is foiled," said Whonk. "But what reason did they have?"
"The Groaci are behind it. I have an idea the SCARS didn't know about
this gambit."
"Which of these is the leader?" asked Whonk. He prodded a fallen Youth
with a horny toe. "Arise, dreaming one."
"Never mind him, Whonk. We'll tie these two up and leave them here. I
know where to find the boss."
A stolid crowd filled the low-ceilinged banquet hall. Retief scanned
the tables for the pale blobs of Terrestrial faces, dwarfed by the
giant armored bodies of the Fustians. Across the room Magnan fluttered
a hand. Retief headed toward him. A low-pitched vibration filled the
air: the rumble of subsonic Fustian music.
Retief slid into his place beside Magnan. "Sorry to be late, Mr.
Ambassador."
"I'm honored that you chose to appear at all," said Magnan coldly. He
turned back to the Fustian on his left.
"Ah, yes, Mr. Minister," he said. "Charming, most charming. So joyous."
The Fustian looked at him, beady-eyed. "It is the
Lament of
Hatching
," he said; "our National Dirge."
"Oh," said Magnan. "How interesting. Such a pleasing balance of
instruments—"
"It is a droon solo," said the Fustian, eyeing the Terrestrial
Ambassador suspiciously.
"Why don't you just admit you can't hear it," Retief whispered loudly.
"And if I may interrupt a moment—"
Magnan cleared his throat. "Now that our Mr. Retief has arrived,
perhaps we could rush right along to the Sponsorship ceremonies."
"This group," said Retief, leaning across Magnan, "the SCARS. How much
do you know about them, Mr. Minister?"
"Nothing at all," the huge Fustian elder rumbled. "For my taste, all
Youths should be kept penned with the livestock until they grow a
carapace to tame their irresponsibility."
"We mustn't lose sight of the importance of channeling youthful
energies," said Magnan.
"Labor gangs," said the minister. "In my youth we were indentured to
the dredge-masters. I myself drew a muck sledge."
"But in these modern times," put in Magnan, "surely it's incumbent on
us to make happy these golden hours."
The minister snorted. "Last week I had a golden hour. They set upon me
and pelted me with overripe stench-fruit."
"But this was merely a manifestation of normal youthful frustrations,"
cried Magnan. "Their essential tenderness—"
"You'd not find a tender spot on that lout yonder," the minister
said, pointing with a fork at a newly arrived Youth, "if you drilled
boreholes and blasted."
"Why, that's our guest of honor," said Magnan, "a fine young fellow!
Slop I believe his name is."
"Slock," said Retief. "Eight feet of armor-plated orneriness. And—"
Magnan rose and tapped on his glass. The Fustians winced at the, to
them, supersonic vibrations. They looked at each other muttering.
Magnan tapped louder. The Minister drew in his head, eyes closed. Some
of the Fustians rose, tottered for the doors; the noise level rose.
Magnan redoubled his efforts. The glass broke with a clatter and green
wine gushed on the tablecloth.
"What in the name of the Great Egg!" the Minister muttered. He blinked,
breathing deeply.
"Oh, forgive me," blurted Magnan, dabbing at the wine.
"Too bad the glass gave out," said Retief. "In another minute you'd
have cleared the hall. And then maybe I could have gotten a word in
sideways. There's a matter you should know about—"
"Your attention, please," Magnan said, rising. "I see that our fine
young guest has arrived, and I hope that the remainder of his committee
will be along in a moment. It is my pleasure to announce that our Mr.
Retief has had the good fortune to win out in the keen bidding for the
pleasure of sponsoring this lovely group."
Retief tugged at Magnan's sleeve. "Don't introduce me yet," he said. "I
want to appear suddenly. More dramatic, you know."
"Well," murmured Magnan, glancing down at Retief, "I'm gratified to
see you entering into the spirit of the event at last." He turned his
attention back to the assembled guests. "If our honored guest will join
me on the rostrum...?" he said. "The gentlemen of the press may want to
catch a few shots of the presentation."
Magnan stepped up on the low platform at the center of the wide room,
took his place beside the robed Fustian youth and beamed at the cameras.
"How gratifying it is to take this opportunity to express once more the
great pleasure we have in sponsoring SCARS," he said, talking slowly
for the benefit of the scribbling reporters. "We'd like to think that
in our modest way we're to be a part of all that the SCARS achieve
during the years ahead."
Magnan paused as a huge Fustian elder heaved his bulk up the two low
steps to the rostrum, approached the guest of honor. He watched as the
newcomer paused behind Slock, who did not see the new arrival.
Retief pushed through the crowd, stepped up to face the Fustian youth.
Slock stared at him, drew back.
"You know me, Slock," said Retief loudly. "An old fellow named Whonk
told you about me, just before you tried to saw his head off, remember?
It was when I came out to take a look at that battle cruiser you're
building."
IV
With a bellow Slock reached for Retief—and choked off in mid-cry as
the Fustian elder, Whonk, pinioned him from behind, lifting him clear
of the floor.
"Glad you reporters happened along," said Retief to the gaping newsmen.
"Slock here had a deal with a sharp operator from the Groaci Embassy.
The Groaci were to supply the necessary hardware and Slock, as foreman
at the shipyards, was to see that everything was properly installed.
The next step, I assume, would have been a local take-over, followed
by a little interplanetary war on Flamenco or one of the other nearby
worlds ... for which the Groaci would be glad to supply plenty of ammo."
Magnan found his tongue. "Are you mad, Retief?" he screeched. "This
group was vouched for by the Ministry of Youth!"
"The Ministry's overdue for a purge," snapped Retief. He turned back
to Slock. "I wonder if you were in on the little diversion that was
planned for today. When the
Moss Rock
blew, a variety of clues were
to be planted where they'd be easy to find ... with SCARS written all
over them. The Groaci would thus have neatly laid the whole affair
squarely at the door of the Terrestrial Embassy ... whose sponsorship
of the SCARS had received plenty of publicity."
"The
Moss Rock
?" said Magnan. "But that was—Retief! This is idiotic.
Slock himself was scheduled to go on a cruise tomorrow!"
Slock roared suddenly, twisting violently. Whonk teetered, his grip
loosened ... and Slock pulled free and was off the platform, butting
his way through the milling oldsters on the dining room floor. Magnan
watched, open-mouthed.
"The Groaci were playing a double game, as usual," Retief said. "They
intended to dispose of this fellow Slock, once he'd served their
purpose."
"Well, don't stand there," yelped Magnan over the uproar. "If Slock is
the ring-leader of a delinquent gang...!" He moved to give chase.
Retief grabbed his arm. "Don't jump down there! You'd have as much
chance of getting through as a jack-rabbit through a threshing contest."
Ten minutes later the crowd had thinned slightly. "We can get through
now," Whonk called. "This way." He lowered himself to the floor, bulled
through to the exit. Flashbulbs popped. Retief and Magnan followed in
Whonk's wake.
In the lounge Retief grabbed the phone, waited for the operator, gave a
code letter. No reply. He tried another.
"No good," he said after a full minute had passed. "Wonder what's
loose?" He slammed the phone back in its niche. "Let's grab a cab."
In the street the blue sun, Alpha, peered like an arc light under a low
cloud layer, casting flat shadows across the mud of the avenue. The
three mounted a passing flat-car. Whonk squatted, resting the weight of
his immense shell on the heavy plank flooring.
"Would that I too could lose this burden, as has the false youth we
bludgeoned aboard the
Moss Rock
," he sighed. "Soon will I be forced
into retirement. Then a mere keeper of a place of papers such as I
will rate no more than a slab on the public strand, with once-daily
feedings. And even for a man of high position, retirement is no
pleasure. A slab in the Park of Monuments is little better. A dismal
outlook for one's next thousand years!"
"You two carry on to the police station," said Retief. "I want to play
a hunch. But don't take too long. I may be painfully right."
"What—?" Magnan started.
"As you wish, Retief," said Whonk.
The flat-car trundled past the gate to the shipyard and Retief jumped
down, headed at a run for the VIP boat. The guard post still stood
vacant. The two Youths whom he and Whonk had left trussed were gone.
"That's the trouble with a peaceful world," Retief muttered. "No police
protection." He stepped down from the lighted entry and took up a
position behind the sentry box. Alpha rose higher, shedding a glaring
blue-white light without heat. Retief shivered. Maybe he'd guessed
wrong....
There was a sound in the near distance, like two elephants colliding.
Retief looked toward the gate. His giant acquaintance, Whonk, had
reappeared and was grappling with a hardly less massive opponent. A
small figure became visible in the melee, scuttled for the gate. Headed
off by the battling titans, he turned and made for the opposite side
of the shipyard. Retief waited, jumped out and gathered in the fleeing
Groaci.
"Well, Yith," he said, "how's tricks? You should pardon the expression."
"Release me, Retief!" the pale-featured alien lisped, his throat
bladder pulsating in agitation. "The behemoths vie for the privilege of
dismembering me out of hand!"
"I know how they feel. I'll see what I can do ... for a price."
"I appeal to you," Yith whispered hoarsely. "As a fellow diplomat, a
fellow alien, a fellow soft-back—"
"Why don't you appeal to Slock, as a fellow skunk?" said Retief. "Now
keep quiet ... and you may get out of this alive."
The heavier of the two struggling Fustians threw the other to the
ground. There was another brief flurry, and then the smaller figure was
on its back, helpless.
"That's Whonk, still on his feet," said Retief. "I wonder who he's
caught—and why."
Whonk came toward the
Moss Rock
dragging the supine Fustian, who
kicked vainly. Retief thrust Yith down well out of sight behind the
sentry box. "Better sit tight, Yith. Don't try to sneak off; I can
outrun you. Stay here and I'll see what I can do." He stepped out and
hailed Whonk.
Puffing like a steam engine Whonk pulled up before him. "Sleep,
Retief!" He panted. "You followed a hunch; I did the same. I saw
something strange in this one when we passed him on the avenue. I
watched, followed him here. Look! It is Slock, strapped into a dead
carapace! Now many things become clear."
Retief whistled. "So the Youths aren't all as young as they look.
Somebody's been holding out on the rest of you Fustians!"
"The Soft One," Whonk said. "You laid him by the heels, Retief. I saw.
Produce him now."
"Hold on a minute, Whonk. It won't do you any good—"
Whonk winked broadly. "I must take my revenge!" he roared. "I shall
test the texture of the Soft One! His pulped remains will be scoured up
by the ramp-washers and mailed home in bottles!"
Retief whirled at a sound, caught up with the scuttling Yith fifty feet
away, hauled him back to Whonk.
"It's up to you, Whonk," he said. "I know how important ceremonial
revenge is to you Fustians. I will not interfere."
"Mercy!" Yith hissed, eye-stalks whipping in distress. "I claim
diplomatic immunity!"
"No diplomat am I," rumbled Whonk. "Let me see; suppose I start with
one of those obscenely active eyes—" He reached....
"I have an idea," said Retief brightly. "Do you suppose—just this
once—you could forego the ceremonial revenge if Yith promised to
arrange for a Groaci Surgical Mission to de-carapace you elders?"
"But," Whonk protested, "those eyes! What a pleasure to pluck them, one
by one!"
"Yess," hissed Yith, "I swear it! Our most expert surgeons ... platoons
of them, with the finest of equipment."
"I have dreamed of how it would be to sit on this one, to feel him
squash beneath my bulk...."
"Light as a whissle feather shall you dance," Yith whispered.
"Shell-less shall you spring in the joy of renewed youth—"
"Maybe just one eye," said Whonk grudgingly. "That would leave him
four."
"Be a sport," said Retief.
"Well."
"It's a deal then," said Retief. "Yith, on your word as a diplomat,
an alien, a soft-back and a skunk, you'll set up the mission. Groaci
surgical skill is an export that will net you more than armaments.
It will be a whissle feather in your cap—if you bring it off. And
in return, Whonk won't sit on you. And I won't prefer charges of
interference in the internal affairs of a free world."
Behind Whonk there was a movement. Slock, wriggling free of the
borrowed carapace, struggled to his feet ... in time for Whonk to seize
him, lift him high and head for the entry to the
Moss Rock
.
"Hey," Retief called. "Where are you going?"
"I would not deny this one his reward," called Whonk. "He hoped to
cruise in luxury. So be it."
"Hold on," said Retief. "That tub is loaded with titanite!"
"Stand not in my way, Retief. For this one in truth owes me a
vengeance."
Retief watched as the immense Fustian bore his giant burden up the ramp
and disappeared within the ship.
"I guess Whonk means business," he said to Yith, who hung in his grasp,
all five eyes goggling. "And he's a little too big for me to stop."
Whonk reappeared, alone, climbed down.
"What did you do with him?" said Retief. "Tell him you were going to—"
"We had best withdraw," said Whonk. "The killing radius of the drive is
fifty yards."
"You mean—"
"The controls are set for Groaci. Long-may-he-sleep."
"It was quite a bang," said Retief. "But I guess you saw it, too."
"No, confound it," Magnan said. "When I remonstrated with Hulk, or
Whelk—"
"Whonk."
"—the ruffian thrust me into an alley bound in my own cloak. I'll most
certainly complain to the Minister."
"How about the surgical mission?"
"A most generous offer," said Magnan. "Frankly, I was astonished. I
think perhaps we've judged the Groaci too harshly."
"I hear the Ministry of Youth has had a rough morning of it," said
Retief. "And a lot of rumors are flying to the effect that Youth Groups
are on the way out."
Magnan cleared his throat, shuffled papers. "I—ah—have explained to
the press that last night's—ah—"
"Fiasco."
"—affair was necessary in order to place the culprits in an untenable
position. Of course, as to the destruction of the VIP vessel and the
presumed death of, uh, Slop."
"The Fustians understand," said Retief. "Whonk wasn't kidding about
ceremonial vengeance."
"The Groaci had been guilty of gross misuse of diplomatic privilege,"
said Magnan. "I think that a note—or perhaps an Aide Memoire: less
formal...."
"The
Moss Rock
was bound for Groaci," said Retief. "She was already
in her transit orbit when she blew. The major fragments will arrive on
schedule in a month or so. It should provide quite a meteorite display.
I think that should be all the
aide
the Groaci's
memoires
will need
to keep their tentacles off Fust."
"But diplomatic usage—"
"Then, too, the less that's put in writing, the less they can blame you
for, if anything goes wrong."
"That's true," said Magnan, lips pursed. "Now you're thinking
constructively, Retief. We may make a diplomat of you yet." He smiled
expansively.
"Maybe. But I refuse to let it depress me." Retief stood up. "I'm
taking a few weeks off ... if you have no objection, Mr. Ambassador. My
pal Whonk wants to show me an island down south where the fishing is
good."
"But there are some extremely important matters coming up," said
Magnan. "We're planning to sponsor Senior Citizen Groups—"
"Count me out. All groups give me an itch."
"Why, what an astonishing remark, Retief! After all, we diplomats are
ourselves a group."
"Uh-huh," Retief said.
Magnan sat quietly, mouth open, and watched as Retief stepped into the
hall and closed the door gently behind him.
Question:
Who is Magnan, and what is his role in and relevance to the story?
Answer:
|
[
"Magnan is the Ambassador to Fust, and thus is Retief’s boss. He is also a spineless, political wind-sniffing clod. His main role, or function in the story is as a foil to the hero, Retief. Magnan’s clueless blathering sets up Retief’s dry, sarcastic remarks – remarks which, if Magnan were not so oblivious, would perhaps offend Magnan to the point of firing Retief. \nWhile Retief is running around Fust getting into fist fights and spoiling terrorists’ plots, Magnan is back at the office shuffling whatever papers came in from the Terrestrial Embassy that day, implementing the “program of the week.” Magnan is flat. Retief is three-dimensional.\nMagnan’s main contributions to the story are to: \n1.\tIgnore Retief’s advice to check out the Fustian youth organizations before sponsoring them, which leads to the potential for the Terrestrial Embassy being embarrassed by the Groaci attempts to frame SCARS for the explosion they hoped to cause aboard the Moss Rock. \n2.\tSet up the banquet to honor SCARS where he grossly insults his Fustian counterparts by having the hired musicians play a dirge, the “Lament of Hatching,” and then shattering their ear drums by tapping on his wine glass.\n3.\tWhip up a meringue of obfuscation to hide the fiasco of the youth organization sponsorship program and try to make himself smell like a rose in the process\n4.\tStart a new sponsorship program for Fustian Senior Citizens.\nAt no point in the story does he do anything useful at all.\n",
"Magnan is the Terrestrial Ambassador to the Fustians. He is the figurehead of their influence on the Fustian planet, and works closely with Retief, the Terrestrial diplomat who uncovers a plot against the Terrestrials through the course of the story. He is the man who tries to convince Retief to sponsor the Youth Group SCARS in the beginning of the story, and we encounter him at the banquet near the end of the story. As the figurehead, he is responsible for announcing the role of the Terrestrials in funding the Youth Group, which creates an opportunity for Retief to announce the Grocian plot to everyone. Ambassador Magnan eventually joins Retief and Whonk as they leave the event to stop the criminals, but he is thrown into an alley by Whonk and doesn't have an opportunity to help directly. After the issue is dealt with by Whonk and Retief, Magnan resumes normal duty, and as the story ends he is looking at other groups that his government could potentially fund.\n",
"Magnan is an ambassador with the Terrestrial Embassy, and he assigns Retief the mission to sponsor the new youth movement (SCARS) on the planet Fust. Magnan seems eager for this sponsorship to proceed despite his general ignorance about the movement itself. His motivation for speed rather than understanding may be attributed to the haste with which the Groaci Embassy has moved to establish a connection with SCARS. Magnan, of course, is not aware of the secret dealings between the Groaci and the SCARS, whom they are working with to ultimately supplant the Fustian leadership and take control of the planet for themselves. Magnan’s vision is fairly straightforward and views this sponsorship as the surest way to curry good favor with the Fustians (and get good publicity for the Terrestrial Embassy). Magnan is impatient with Retief’s more meticulous, fact-finding methods and organizes the sponsorship ceremony before Retief has completed his research. At the ceremony, Magnan’s interactions with the Fustian minister reveal further his humorous ignorance about their species, particularly when he hurts their sensitive hearing by banging his glass louder and louder. After he invites Slock on stage to present him to the press as his guest of honor and representative of SCARS, Whonk and Retief capture Slock and expose his plan to Magnan. At first, Magnan does not believe them, but he is quickly convinced when Slock escapes. In the end, Magnan creates a story for the press that the sponsorship event was a ruse to apprehend the perpetrators of the attempted coup against the Fustian leadership. ",
"Magnan is the Ambassador at the Terrestrial Embassy on Fust and Councillor Retief’s boss. He wants Retief to sponsor the SCARS and stops just short of ordering him to do so. Magnan is very focused on his role as Ambassador and has little interest in anything not directly connected to his job. Magnan is not concerned about the passenger ship the Fustians are building or the fact that the Groacis are interested in the Fustians when their lives and economies are so different from each other. When Retief mentions the fact that the Groacis are interested in fission bombs, Magnan’s reaction is to wonder what market there could be for such devices since the world is at peace. He is politically correct and is shocked when Retief mentions the carapaces that the older Fustians has. He also pretends that he can hear the Fustians’ music when he clearly isn’t able to do so. Magnan is manipulative because he announces that Retief will sponsor SCARS even after Retief clearly tells him he is not interested. He misjudges character and refers to Slock as a fine young fellow when Slock is rude, violent, and mixed up in the scheme with the Groacis to begin conquering nearby worlds. At the end of the story when Magnan finally learns of the deceit of the young Fustians and the Groacis, he tries to act like he knew about it all along. His disinterest in anything not related to diplomacy gives Retief the leeway he needs to figure out the Fustian and Groaci crimes."
] |
61198
|
Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
AIDE MEMOIRE
BY KEITH LAUMER
The Fustians looked like turtles—but
they could move fast when they chose!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, July 1962.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Across the table from Retief, Ambassador Magnan rustled a stiff sheet
of parchment and looked grave.
"This aide memoire," he said, "was just handed to me by the Cultural
Attache. It's the third on the subject this week. It refers to the
matter of sponsorship of Youth groups—"
"Some youths," Retief said. "Average age, seventy-five."
"The Fustians are a long-lived people," Magnan snapped. "These matters
are relative. At seventy-five, a male Fustian is at a trying age—"
"That's right. He'll try anything—in the hope it will maim somebody."
"Precisely the problem," Magnan said. "But the Youth Movement is
the important news in today's political situation here on Fust. And
sponsorship of Youth groups is a shrewd stroke on the part of the
Terrestrial Embassy. At my suggestion, well nigh every member of the
mission has leaped at the opportunity to score a few p—that is, cement
relations with this emergent power group—the leaders of the future.
You, Retief, as Councillor, are the outstanding exception."
"I'm not convinced these hoodlums need my help in organizing their
rumbles," Retief said. "Now, if you have a proposal for a pest control
group—"
"To the Fustians this is no jesting matter," Magnan cut in. "This
group—" he glanced at the paper—"known as the Sexual, Cultural, and
Athletic Recreational Society, or SCARS for short, has been awaiting
sponsorship for a matter of weeks now."
"Meaning they want someone to buy them a clubhouse, uniforms, equipment
and anything else they need to complete their sexual, cultural and
athletic development," Retief said.
"If we don't act promptly," Magnan said, "the Groaci Embassy may well
anticipate us. They're very active here."
"That's an idea," said Retief. "Let 'em. After awhile they'll go broke
instead of us."
"Nonsense. The group requires a sponsor. I can't actually order you to
step forward. However...." Magnan let the sentence hang in the air.
Retief raised one eyebrow.
"For a minute there," he said, "I thought you were going to make a
positive statement."
Magnan leaned back, lacing his fingers over his stomach. "I don't think
you'll find a diplomat of my experience doing anything so naive," he
said.
"I like the adult Fustians," said Retief. "Too bad they have to lug
half a ton of horn around on their backs. I wonder if surgery would
help."
"Great heavens, Retief," Magnan sputtered. "I'm amazed that even you
would bring up a matter of such delicacy. A race's unfortunate physical
characteristics are hardly a fit matter for Terrestrial curiosity."
"Well, of course your experience of the Fustian mentality is greater
than mine. I've only been here a month. But it's been my experience,
Mr. Ambassador, that few races are above improving on nature. Otherwise
you, for example, would be tripping over your beard."
Magnan shuddered. "Please—never mention the idea to a Fustian."
Retief stood. "My own program for the day includes going over to the
dockyards. There are some features of this new passenger liner the
Fustians are putting together that I want to look into. With your
permission, Mr. Ambassador...?"
Magnan snorted. "Your pre-occupation with the trivial disturbs me,
Retief. More interest in substantive matters—such as working with
Youth groups—would create a far better impression."
"Before getting too involved with these groups, it might be a good idea
to find out a little more about them," said Retief. "Who organizes
them? There are three strong political parties here on Fust. What's the
alignment of this SCARS organization?"
"You forget, these are merely teenagers, so to speak," Magnan said.
"Politics mean nothing to them ... yet."
"Then there are the Groaci. Why their passionate interest in a
two-horse world like Fust? Normally they're concerned with nothing but
business. But what has Fust got that they could use?"
"You may rule out the commercial aspect in this instance," said Magnan.
"Fust possesses a vigorous steel-age manufacturing economy. The Groaci
are barely ahead of them."
"Barely," said Retief. "Just over the line into crude atomics ... like
fission bombs."
Magnan shook his head, turned back to his papers. "What market exists
for such devices on a world at peace? I suggest you address your
attention to the less spectacular but more rewarding work of studying
the social patterns of the local youth."
"I've studied them," said Retief. "And before I meet any of the local
youth socially I want to get myself a good blackjack."
II
Retief left the sprawling bungalow-type building that housed the
chancery of the Terrestrial Embassy, swung aboard a passing flat-car
and leaned back against the wooden guard rail as the heavy vehicle
trundled through the city toward the looming gantries of the shipyards.
It was a cool morning. A light breeze carried the fishy odor of Fusty
dwellings across the broad cobbled avenue. A few mature Fustians
lumbered heavily along in the shade of the low buildings, audibly
wheezing under the burden of their immense carapaces. Among them,
shell-less youths trotted briskly on scaly stub legs. The driver of the
flat-car, a labor-caste Fustian with his guild colors emblazoned on his
back, heaved at the tiller, swung the unwieldy conveyance through the
shipyard gates, creaked to a halt.
"Thus I come to the shipyard with frightful speed," he said in Fustian.
"Well I know the way of the naked-backs, who move always in haste."
Retief climbed down, handed him a coin. "You should take up
professional racing," he said. "Daredevil."
He crossed the littered yard and tapped at the door of a rambling shed.
Boards creaked inside. Then the door swung back.
A gnarled ancient with tarnished facial scales and a weathered carapace
peered out at Retief.
"Long-may-you-sleep," said Retief. "I'd like to take a look around, if
you don't mind. I understand you're laying the bedplate for your new
liner today."
"May-you-dream-of-the-deeps," the old fellow mumbled. He waved a stumpy
arm toward a group of shell-less Fustians standing by a massive hoist.
"The youths know more of bedplates than do I, who but tend the place of
papers."
"I know how you feel, old-timer," said Retief. "That sounds like the
story of my life. Among your papers do you have a set of plans for the
vessel? I understand it's to be a passenger liner."
The oldster nodded. He shuffled to a drawing file, rummaged, pulled out
a sheaf of curled prints and spread them on the table. Retief stood
silently, running a finger over the uppermost drawing, tracing lines....
"What does the naked-back here?" barked a deep voice behind Retief. He
turned. A heavy-faced Fustian youth, wrapped in a mantle, stood at the
open door. Beady yellow eyes set among fine scales bored into Retief.
"I came to take a look at your new liner," said Retief.
"We need no prying foreigners here," the youth snapped. His eye fell on
the drawings. He hissed in sudden anger.
"Doddering hulk!" he snapped at the ancient. "May you toss in
nightmares! Put by the plans!"
"My mistake," Retief said. "I didn't know this was a secret project."
The youth hesitated. "It is not a secret project," he muttered. "Why
should it be secret?"
"You tell me."
The youth worked his jaws and rocked his head from side to side in the
Fusty gesture of uncertainty. "There is nothing to conceal," he said.
"We merely construct a passenger liner."
"Then you don't mind if I look over the drawings," said Retief. "Who
knows? Maybe some day I'll want to reserve a suite for the trip out."
The youth turned and disappeared. Retief grinned at the oldster. "Went
for his big brother, I guess," he said. "I have a feeling I won't get
to study these in peace here. Mind if I copy them?"
"Willingly, light-footed one," said the old Fustian. "And mine is the
shame for the discourtesy of youth."
Retief took out a tiny camera, flipped a copying lens in place, leafed
through the drawings, clicking the shutter.
"A plague on these youths," said the oldster, "who grow more virulent
day by day."
"Why don't you elders clamp down?"
"Agile are they and we are slow of foot. And this unrest is new.
Unknown in my youth was such insolence."
"The police—"
"Bah!" the ancient rumbled. "None have we worthy of the name, nor have
we needed ought ere now."
"What's behind it?"
"They have found leaders. The spiv, Slock, is one. And I fear they plot
mischief." He pointed to the window. "They come, and a Soft One with
them."
Retief pocketed the camera, glanced out the window. A pale-featured
Groaci with an ornately decorated crest stood with the youths, who eyed
the hut, then started toward it.
"That's the military attache of the Groaci Embassy," Retief said. "I
wonder what he and the boys are cooking up together?"
"Naught that augurs well for the dignity of Fust," the oldster rumbled.
"Flee, agile one, while I engage their attentions."
"I was just leaving," Retief said. "Which way out?"
"The rear door," the Fustian gestured with a stubby member. "Rest well,
stranger on these shores." He moved to the entrance.
"Same to you, pop," said Retief. "And thanks."
He eased through the narrow back entrance, waited until voices were
raised at the front of the shed, then strolled off toward the gate.
The second dark of the third cycle was lightening when Retief left the
Embassy technical library and crossed the corridor to his office. He
flipped on a light. A note was tucked under a paperweight:
"Retief—I shall expect your attendance at the IAS dinner at first
dark of the fourth cycle. There will be a brief but, I hope, impressive
Sponsorship ceremony for the SCARS group, with full press coverage,
arrangements for which I have managed to complete in spite of your
intransigence."
Retief snorted and glanced at his watch. Less than three hours. Just
time to creep home by flat-car, dress in ceremonial uniform and creep
back.
Outside he flagged a lumbering bus. He stationed himself in a corner
and watched the yellow sun, Beta, rise rapidly above the low skyline.
The nearby sea was at high tide now, under the pull of the major sun
and the three moons, and the stiff breeze carried a mist of salt spray.
Retief turned up his collar against the dampness. In half an hour he
would be perspiring under the vertical rays of a third-noon sun, but
the thought failed to keep the chill off.
Two Youths clambered up on the platform, moving purposefully toward
Retief. He moved off the rail, watching them, weight balanced.
"That's close enough, kids," he said. "Plenty of room on this scow. No
need to crowd up."
"There are certain films," the lead Fustian muttered. His voice was
unusually deep for a Youth. He was wrapped in a heavy cloak and moved
awkwardly. His adolescence was nearly at an end, Retief guessed.
"I told you once," said Retief. "Don't crowd me."
The two stepped close, slit mouths snapping in anger. Retief put out a
foot, hooked it behind the scaly leg of the overaged juvenile and threw
his weight against the cloaked chest. The clumsy Fustian tottered, fell
heavily. Retief was past him and off the flat-car before the other
Youth had completed his vain lunge toward the spot Retief had occupied.
The Terrestrial waved cheerfully at the pair, hopped aboard another
vehicle, watched his would-be assailants lumber down from their car,
tiny heads twisted to follow his retreating figure.
So they wanted the film? Retief reflected, thumbing a cigar alight.
They were a little late. He had already filed it in the Embassy vault,
after running a copy for the reference files.
And a comparison of the drawings with those of the obsolete Mark XXXV
battle cruiser used two hundred years earlier by the Concordiat Naval
Arm showed them to be almost identical, gun emplacements and all. The
term "obsolete" was a relative one. A ship which had been outmoded in
the armories of the Galactic Powers could still be king of the walk in
the Eastern Arm.
But how had these two known of the film? There had been no one present
but himself and the old-timer—and he was willing to bet the elderly
Fustian hadn't told them anything.
At least not willingly....
Retief frowned, dropped the cigar over the side, waited until the
flat-car negotiated a mud-wallow, then swung down and headed for the
shipyard.
The door, hinges torn loose, had been propped loosely back in position.
Retief looked around at the battered interior of the shed. The old
fellow had put up a struggle.
There were deep drag-marks in the dust behind the building. Retief
followed them across the yard. They disappeared under the steel door of
a warehouse.
Retief glanced around. Now, at the mid-hour of the fourth cycle, the
workmen were heaped along the edge of the refreshment pond, deep in
their siesta. He took a multi-bladed tool from a pocket, tried various
fittings in the lock. It snicked open.
He eased the door aside far enough to enter.
Heaped bales loomed before him. Snapping on the tiny lamp in the handle
of the combination tool, Retief looked over the pile. One stack seemed
out of alignment ... and the dust had been scraped from the floor
before it. He pocketed the light, climbed up on the bales, looked over
into a nest made by stacking the bundles around a clear spot. The aged
Fustian lay in it, on his back, a heavy sack tied over his head.
Retief dropped down inside the ring of bales, sawed at the tough twine
and pulled the sack free.
"It's me, old fellow," Retief said. "The nosy stranger. Sorry I got you
into this."
The oldster threshed his gnarled legs. He rocked slightly and fell
back. "A curse on the cradle that rocked their infant slumbers," he
rumbled. "But place me back on my feet and I hunt down the youth,
Slock, though he flee to the bottommost muck of the Sea of Torments."
"How am I going to get you out of here? Maybe I'd better get some help."
"Nay. The perfidious Youths abound here," said the old Fustian. "It
would be your life."
"I doubt if they'd go that far."
"Would they not?" The Fustian stretched his neck. "Cast your light
here. But for the toughness of my hide...."
Retief put the beam of the light on the leathery neck. A great smear of
thick purplish blood welled from a ragged cut. The oldster chuckled, a
sound like a seal coughing.
"Traitor, they called me. For long they sawed at me—in vain. Then
they trussed me and dumped me here. They think to return with weapons
to complete the task."
"Weapons? I thought it was illegal!"
"Their evil genius, the Soft One," said the Fustian. "He would provide
fuel to the Devil himself."
"The Groaci again," said Retief. "I wonder what their angle is."
"And I must confess, I told them of you, ere I knew their full
intentions. Much can I tell you of their doings. But first, I pray, the
block and tackle."
Retief found the hoist where the Fustian directed him, maneuvered it
into position, hooked onto the edge of the carapace and hauled away.
The immense Fustian rose slowly, teetered ... then flopped on his chest.
Slowly he got to his feet.
"My name is Whonk, fleet one," he said. "My cows are yours."
"Thanks. I'm Retief. I'd like to meet the girls some time. But right
now, let's get out of here."
Whonk leaned his bulk against the ponderous stacks of baled kelp,
bulldozed them aside. "Slow am I to anger," he said, "but implacable in
my wrath. Slock, beware!"
"Hold it," said Retief suddenly. He sniffed. "What's that odor?" He
flashed the light around, played it over a dry stain on the floor. He
knelt, sniffed at the spot.
"What kind of cargo was stacked here, Whonk? And where is it now?"
Whonk considered. "There were drums," he said. "Four of them, quite
small, painted an evil green, the property of the Soft Ones, the
Groaci. They lay here a day and a night. At full dark of the first
period they came with stevedores and loaded them aboard the barge
Moss
Rock
."
"The VIP boat. Who's scheduled to use it?"
"I know not. But what matters this? Let us discuss cargo movements
after I have settled a score with certain Youths."
"We'd better follow this up first, Whonk. There's only one substance I
know of that's transported in drums and smells like that blot on the
floor. That's titanite: the hottest explosive this side of a uranium
pile."
III
Beta was setting as Retief, Whonk puffing at his heels, came up to the
sentry box beside the gangway leading to the plush interior of the
official luxury space barge
Moss Rock
.
"A sign of the times," said Whonk, glancing inside the empty shelter.
"A guard should stand here, but I see him not. Doubtless he crept away
to sleep."
"Let's go aboard and take a look around."
They entered the ship. Soft lights glowed in utter silence. A rough box
stood on the floor, rollers and pry-bars beside it—a discordant note
in the muted luxury of the setting. Whonk rummaged in it.
"Curious," he said. "What means this?" He held up a stained cloak of
orange and green, a metal bracelet, papers.
"Orange and green," mused Relief. "Whose colors are those?"
"I know not." Whonk glanced at the arm-band. "But this is lettered." He
passed the metal band to Retief.
"SCARS," Retief read. He looked at Whonk. "It seems to me I've heard
the name before," he murmured. "Let's get back to the Embassy—fast."
Back on the ramp Retief heard a sound ... and turned in time to duck
the charge of a hulking Fustian youth who thundered past him and
fetched up against the broad chest of Whonk, who locked him in a warm
embrace.
"Nice catch, Whonk. Where'd he sneak out of?"
"The lout hid there by the storage bin," rumbled Whonk. The captive
youth thumped fists and toes fruitlessly against the oldster's carapace.
"Hang onto him," said Retief. "He looks like the biting kind."
"No fear. Clumsy I am, yet not without strength."
"Ask him where the titanite is tucked away."
"Speak, witless grub," growled Whonk, "lest I tweak you in twain."
The youth gurgled.
"Better let up before you make a mess of him," said Retief. Whonk
lifted the Youth clear of the floor, then flung him down with a thump
that made the ground quiver. The younger Fustian glared up at the
elder, mouth snapping.
"This one was among those who trussed me and hid me away for the
killing," said Whonk. "In his repentance he will tell all to his elder."
"That's the same young squirt that tried to strike up an acquaintance
with me on the bus," Retief said. "He gets around."
The youth scrambled to hands and knees, scuttled for freedom. Retief
planted a foot on his dragging cloak; it ripped free. He stared at the
bare back of the Fustian—
"By the Great Egg!" Whonk exclaimed, tripping the refugee as he tried
to rise. "This is no Youth! His carapace has been taken from him!"
Retief looked at the scarred back. "I thought he looked a little old.
But I thought—"
"This is not possible," Whonk said wonderingly. "The great nerve trunks
are deeply involved. Not even the cleverest surgeon could excise the
carapace and leave the patient living."
"It looks like somebody did the trick. But let's take this boy with us
and get out of here. His folks may come home."
"Too late," said Whonk. Retief turned.
Three youths came from behind the sheds.
"Well," Retief said. "It looks like the SCARS are out in force tonight.
Where's your pal?" he said to the advancing trio. "The sticky little
bird with the eye-stalks? Back at his Embassy, leaving you suckers
holding the bag, I'll bet."
"Shelter behind me, Retief," said Whonk.
"Go get 'em, old-timer." Retief stooped, picked up one of the pry-bars.
"I'll jump around and distract them."
Whonk let out a whistling roar and charged for the immature Fustians.
They fanned out ... and one tripped, sprawled on his face. Retief
whirled the metal bar he had thrust between the Fustian's legs, slammed
it against the skull of another, who shook his head, turned on
Retief ... and bounced off the steel hull of the
Moss Rock
as Whonk
took him in full charge.
Retief used the bar on another head. His third blow laid the Fustian
on the pavement, oozing purple. The other two club members departed
hastily, seriously dented but still mobile.
Retief leaned on his club, breathing hard. "Tough heads these kids
have got. I'm tempted to chase those two lads down, but I've got
another errand to run. I don't know who the Groaci intended to blast,
but I have a sneaking suspicion somebody of importance was scheduled
for a boat ride in the next few hours. And three drums of titanite is
enough to vaporize this tub and everyone aboard her."
"The plot is foiled," said Whonk. "But what reason did they have?"
"The Groaci are behind it. I have an idea the SCARS didn't know about
this gambit."
"Which of these is the leader?" asked Whonk. He prodded a fallen Youth
with a horny toe. "Arise, dreaming one."
"Never mind him, Whonk. We'll tie these two up and leave them here. I
know where to find the boss."
A stolid crowd filled the low-ceilinged banquet hall. Retief scanned
the tables for the pale blobs of Terrestrial faces, dwarfed by the
giant armored bodies of the Fustians. Across the room Magnan fluttered
a hand. Retief headed toward him. A low-pitched vibration filled the
air: the rumble of subsonic Fustian music.
Retief slid into his place beside Magnan. "Sorry to be late, Mr.
Ambassador."
"I'm honored that you chose to appear at all," said Magnan coldly. He
turned back to the Fustian on his left.
"Ah, yes, Mr. Minister," he said. "Charming, most charming. So joyous."
The Fustian looked at him, beady-eyed. "It is the
Lament of
Hatching
," he said; "our National Dirge."
"Oh," said Magnan. "How interesting. Such a pleasing balance of
instruments—"
"It is a droon solo," said the Fustian, eyeing the Terrestrial
Ambassador suspiciously.
"Why don't you just admit you can't hear it," Retief whispered loudly.
"And if I may interrupt a moment—"
Magnan cleared his throat. "Now that our Mr. Retief has arrived,
perhaps we could rush right along to the Sponsorship ceremonies."
"This group," said Retief, leaning across Magnan, "the SCARS. How much
do you know about them, Mr. Minister?"
"Nothing at all," the huge Fustian elder rumbled. "For my taste, all
Youths should be kept penned with the livestock until they grow a
carapace to tame their irresponsibility."
"We mustn't lose sight of the importance of channeling youthful
energies," said Magnan.
"Labor gangs," said the minister. "In my youth we were indentured to
the dredge-masters. I myself drew a muck sledge."
"But in these modern times," put in Magnan, "surely it's incumbent on
us to make happy these golden hours."
The minister snorted. "Last week I had a golden hour. They set upon me
and pelted me with overripe stench-fruit."
"But this was merely a manifestation of normal youthful frustrations,"
cried Magnan. "Their essential tenderness—"
"You'd not find a tender spot on that lout yonder," the minister
said, pointing with a fork at a newly arrived Youth, "if you drilled
boreholes and blasted."
"Why, that's our guest of honor," said Magnan, "a fine young fellow!
Slop I believe his name is."
"Slock," said Retief. "Eight feet of armor-plated orneriness. And—"
Magnan rose and tapped on his glass. The Fustians winced at the, to
them, supersonic vibrations. They looked at each other muttering.
Magnan tapped louder. The Minister drew in his head, eyes closed. Some
of the Fustians rose, tottered for the doors; the noise level rose.
Magnan redoubled his efforts. The glass broke with a clatter and green
wine gushed on the tablecloth.
"What in the name of the Great Egg!" the Minister muttered. He blinked,
breathing deeply.
"Oh, forgive me," blurted Magnan, dabbing at the wine.
"Too bad the glass gave out," said Retief. "In another minute you'd
have cleared the hall. And then maybe I could have gotten a word in
sideways. There's a matter you should know about—"
"Your attention, please," Magnan said, rising. "I see that our fine
young guest has arrived, and I hope that the remainder of his committee
will be along in a moment. It is my pleasure to announce that our Mr.
Retief has had the good fortune to win out in the keen bidding for the
pleasure of sponsoring this lovely group."
Retief tugged at Magnan's sleeve. "Don't introduce me yet," he said. "I
want to appear suddenly. More dramatic, you know."
"Well," murmured Magnan, glancing down at Retief, "I'm gratified to
see you entering into the spirit of the event at last." He turned his
attention back to the assembled guests. "If our honored guest will join
me on the rostrum...?" he said. "The gentlemen of the press may want to
catch a few shots of the presentation."
Magnan stepped up on the low platform at the center of the wide room,
took his place beside the robed Fustian youth and beamed at the cameras.
"How gratifying it is to take this opportunity to express once more the
great pleasure we have in sponsoring SCARS," he said, talking slowly
for the benefit of the scribbling reporters. "We'd like to think that
in our modest way we're to be a part of all that the SCARS achieve
during the years ahead."
Magnan paused as a huge Fustian elder heaved his bulk up the two low
steps to the rostrum, approached the guest of honor. He watched as the
newcomer paused behind Slock, who did not see the new arrival.
Retief pushed through the crowd, stepped up to face the Fustian youth.
Slock stared at him, drew back.
"You know me, Slock," said Retief loudly. "An old fellow named Whonk
told you about me, just before you tried to saw his head off, remember?
It was when I came out to take a look at that battle cruiser you're
building."
IV
With a bellow Slock reached for Retief—and choked off in mid-cry as
the Fustian elder, Whonk, pinioned him from behind, lifting him clear
of the floor.
"Glad you reporters happened along," said Retief to the gaping newsmen.
"Slock here had a deal with a sharp operator from the Groaci Embassy.
The Groaci were to supply the necessary hardware and Slock, as foreman
at the shipyards, was to see that everything was properly installed.
The next step, I assume, would have been a local take-over, followed
by a little interplanetary war on Flamenco or one of the other nearby
worlds ... for which the Groaci would be glad to supply plenty of ammo."
Magnan found his tongue. "Are you mad, Retief?" he screeched. "This
group was vouched for by the Ministry of Youth!"
"The Ministry's overdue for a purge," snapped Retief. He turned back
to Slock. "I wonder if you were in on the little diversion that was
planned for today. When the
Moss Rock
blew, a variety of clues were
to be planted where they'd be easy to find ... with SCARS written all
over them. The Groaci would thus have neatly laid the whole affair
squarely at the door of the Terrestrial Embassy ... whose sponsorship
of the SCARS had received plenty of publicity."
"The
Moss Rock
?" said Magnan. "But that was—Retief! This is idiotic.
Slock himself was scheduled to go on a cruise tomorrow!"
Slock roared suddenly, twisting violently. Whonk teetered, his grip
loosened ... and Slock pulled free and was off the platform, butting
his way through the milling oldsters on the dining room floor. Magnan
watched, open-mouthed.
"The Groaci were playing a double game, as usual," Retief said. "They
intended to dispose of this fellow Slock, once he'd served their
purpose."
"Well, don't stand there," yelped Magnan over the uproar. "If Slock is
the ring-leader of a delinquent gang...!" He moved to give chase.
Retief grabbed his arm. "Don't jump down there! You'd have as much
chance of getting through as a jack-rabbit through a threshing contest."
Ten minutes later the crowd had thinned slightly. "We can get through
now," Whonk called. "This way." He lowered himself to the floor, bulled
through to the exit. Flashbulbs popped. Retief and Magnan followed in
Whonk's wake.
In the lounge Retief grabbed the phone, waited for the operator, gave a
code letter. No reply. He tried another.
"No good," he said after a full minute had passed. "Wonder what's
loose?" He slammed the phone back in its niche. "Let's grab a cab."
In the street the blue sun, Alpha, peered like an arc light under a low
cloud layer, casting flat shadows across the mud of the avenue. The
three mounted a passing flat-car. Whonk squatted, resting the weight of
his immense shell on the heavy plank flooring.
"Would that I too could lose this burden, as has the false youth we
bludgeoned aboard the
Moss Rock
," he sighed. "Soon will I be forced
into retirement. Then a mere keeper of a place of papers such as I
will rate no more than a slab on the public strand, with once-daily
feedings. And even for a man of high position, retirement is no
pleasure. A slab in the Park of Monuments is little better. A dismal
outlook for one's next thousand years!"
"You two carry on to the police station," said Retief. "I want to play
a hunch. But don't take too long. I may be painfully right."
"What—?" Magnan started.
"As you wish, Retief," said Whonk.
The flat-car trundled past the gate to the shipyard and Retief jumped
down, headed at a run for the VIP boat. The guard post still stood
vacant. The two Youths whom he and Whonk had left trussed were gone.
"That's the trouble with a peaceful world," Retief muttered. "No police
protection." He stepped down from the lighted entry and took up a
position behind the sentry box. Alpha rose higher, shedding a glaring
blue-white light without heat. Retief shivered. Maybe he'd guessed
wrong....
There was a sound in the near distance, like two elephants colliding.
Retief looked toward the gate. His giant acquaintance, Whonk, had
reappeared and was grappling with a hardly less massive opponent. A
small figure became visible in the melee, scuttled for the gate. Headed
off by the battling titans, he turned and made for the opposite side
of the shipyard. Retief waited, jumped out and gathered in the fleeing
Groaci.
"Well, Yith," he said, "how's tricks? You should pardon the expression."
"Release me, Retief!" the pale-featured alien lisped, his throat
bladder pulsating in agitation. "The behemoths vie for the privilege of
dismembering me out of hand!"
"I know how they feel. I'll see what I can do ... for a price."
"I appeal to you," Yith whispered hoarsely. "As a fellow diplomat, a
fellow alien, a fellow soft-back—"
"Why don't you appeal to Slock, as a fellow skunk?" said Retief. "Now
keep quiet ... and you may get out of this alive."
The heavier of the two struggling Fustians threw the other to the
ground. There was another brief flurry, and then the smaller figure was
on its back, helpless.
"That's Whonk, still on his feet," said Retief. "I wonder who he's
caught—and why."
Whonk came toward the
Moss Rock
dragging the supine Fustian, who
kicked vainly. Retief thrust Yith down well out of sight behind the
sentry box. "Better sit tight, Yith. Don't try to sneak off; I can
outrun you. Stay here and I'll see what I can do." He stepped out and
hailed Whonk.
Puffing like a steam engine Whonk pulled up before him. "Sleep,
Retief!" He panted. "You followed a hunch; I did the same. I saw
something strange in this one when we passed him on the avenue. I
watched, followed him here. Look! It is Slock, strapped into a dead
carapace! Now many things become clear."
Retief whistled. "So the Youths aren't all as young as they look.
Somebody's been holding out on the rest of you Fustians!"
"The Soft One," Whonk said. "You laid him by the heels, Retief. I saw.
Produce him now."
"Hold on a minute, Whonk. It won't do you any good—"
Whonk winked broadly. "I must take my revenge!" he roared. "I shall
test the texture of the Soft One! His pulped remains will be scoured up
by the ramp-washers and mailed home in bottles!"
Retief whirled at a sound, caught up with the scuttling Yith fifty feet
away, hauled him back to Whonk.
"It's up to you, Whonk," he said. "I know how important ceremonial
revenge is to you Fustians. I will not interfere."
"Mercy!" Yith hissed, eye-stalks whipping in distress. "I claim
diplomatic immunity!"
"No diplomat am I," rumbled Whonk. "Let me see; suppose I start with
one of those obscenely active eyes—" He reached....
"I have an idea," said Retief brightly. "Do you suppose—just this
once—you could forego the ceremonial revenge if Yith promised to
arrange for a Groaci Surgical Mission to de-carapace you elders?"
"But," Whonk protested, "those eyes! What a pleasure to pluck them, one
by one!"
"Yess," hissed Yith, "I swear it! Our most expert surgeons ... platoons
of them, with the finest of equipment."
"I have dreamed of how it would be to sit on this one, to feel him
squash beneath my bulk...."
"Light as a whissle feather shall you dance," Yith whispered.
"Shell-less shall you spring in the joy of renewed youth—"
"Maybe just one eye," said Whonk grudgingly. "That would leave him
four."
"Be a sport," said Retief.
"Well."
"It's a deal then," said Retief. "Yith, on your word as a diplomat,
an alien, a soft-back and a skunk, you'll set up the mission. Groaci
surgical skill is an export that will net you more than armaments.
It will be a whissle feather in your cap—if you bring it off. And
in return, Whonk won't sit on you. And I won't prefer charges of
interference in the internal affairs of a free world."
Behind Whonk there was a movement. Slock, wriggling free of the
borrowed carapace, struggled to his feet ... in time for Whonk to seize
him, lift him high and head for the entry to the
Moss Rock
.
"Hey," Retief called. "Where are you going?"
"I would not deny this one his reward," called Whonk. "He hoped to
cruise in luxury. So be it."
"Hold on," said Retief. "That tub is loaded with titanite!"
"Stand not in my way, Retief. For this one in truth owes me a
vengeance."
Retief watched as the immense Fustian bore his giant burden up the ramp
and disappeared within the ship.
"I guess Whonk means business," he said to Yith, who hung in his grasp,
all five eyes goggling. "And he's a little too big for me to stop."
Whonk reappeared, alone, climbed down.
"What did you do with him?" said Retief. "Tell him you were going to—"
"We had best withdraw," said Whonk. "The killing radius of the drive is
fifty yards."
"You mean—"
"The controls are set for Groaci. Long-may-he-sleep."
"It was quite a bang," said Retief. "But I guess you saw it, too."
"No, confound it," Magnan said. "When I remonstrated with Hulk, or
Whelk—"
"Whonk."
"—the ruffian thrust me into an alley bound in my own cloak. I'll most
certainly complain to the Minister."
"How about the surgical mission?"
"A most generous offer," said Magnan. "Frankly, I was astonished. I
think perhaps we've judged the Groaci too harshly."
"I hear the Ministry of Youth has had a rough morning of it," said
Retief. "And a lot of rumors are flying to the effect that Youth Groups
are on the way out."
Magnan cleared his throat, shuffled papers. "I—ah—have explained to
the press that last night's—ah—"
"Fiasco."
"—affair was necessary in order to place the culprits in an untenable
position. Of course, as to the destruction of the VIP vessel and the
presumed death of, uh, Slop."
"The Fustians understand," said Retief. "Whonk wasn't kidding about
ceremonial vengeance."
"The Groaci had been guilty of gross misuse of diplomatic privilege,"
said Magnan. "I think that a note—or perhaps an Aide Memoire: less
formal...."
"The
Moss Rock
was bound for Groaci," said Retief. "She was already
in her transit orbit when she blew. The major fragments will arrive on
schedule in a month or so. It should provide quite a meteorite display.
I think that should be all the
aide
the Groaci's
memoires
will need
to keep their tentacles off Fust."
"But diplomatic usage—"
"Then, too, the less that's put in writing, the less they can blame you
for, if anything goes wrong."
"That's true," said Magnan, lips pursed. "Now you're thinking
constructively, Retief. We may make a diplomat of you yet." He smiled
expansively.
"Maybe. But I refuse to let it depress me." Retief stood up. "I'm
taking a few weeks off ... if you have no objection, Mr. Ambassador. My
pal Whonk wants to show me an island down south where the fishing is
good."
"But there are some extremely important matters coming up," said
Magnan. "We're planning to sponsor Senior Citizen Groups—"
"Count me out. All groups give me an itch."
"Why, what an astonishing remark, Retief! After all, we diplomats are
ourselves a group."
"Uh-huh," Retief said.
Magnan sat quietly, mouth open, and watched as Retief stepped into the
hall and closed the door gently behind him.
|
Why is Cassal on his way to Tunney 21?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Delay in Transit by F. L. (Floyd L.) Wallace.
Relevant chunks:
DELAY IN TRANSIT
By F. L. WALLACE
Illustrated by SIBLEY
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction September 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
An unprovoked, meaningless night attack is terrifying enough on your own home planet, worse on a world across the Galaxy. But the horror is the offer of help that cannot be accepted!
"Muscles tense," said Dimanche. "Neural index 1.76, unusually high. Adrenalin squirting through his system. In effect, he's stalking you. Intent: probably assault with a deadly weapon."
"Not interested," said Cassal firmly, his subvocalization inaudible to anyone but Dimanche. "I'm not the victim type. He was standing on the walkway near the brink of the thoroughfare. I'm going back to the habitat hotel and sit tight."
"First you have to get there," Dimanche pointed out. "I mean, is it safe for a stranger to walk through the city?"
"Now that you mention it, no," answered Cassal. He looked around apprehensively. "Where is he?"
"Behind you. At the moment he's pretending interest in a merchandise display."
A native stamped by, eyes brown and incurious. Apparently he was accustomed to the sight of an Earthman standing alone, Adam's apple bobbing up and down silently. It was a Godolphian axiom that all travelers were crazy.
Cassal looked up. Not an air taxi in sight; Godolph shut down at dusk. It would be pure luck if he found a taxi before morning. Of course he could walk back to the hotel, but was that such a good idea?
A Godolphian city was peculiar. And, though not intended, it was peculiarly suited to certain kinds of violence. A human pedestrian was at a definite disadvantage.
"Correction," said Dimanche. "Not simple assault. He has murder in mind."
"It still doesn't appeal to me," said Cassal. Striving to look unconcerned, he strolled toward the building side of the walkway and stared into the interior of a small cafe. Warm, bright and dry. Inside, he might find safety for a time.
Damn the man who was following him! It would be easy enough to elude him in a normal city. On Godolph, nothing was normal. In an hour the streets would be brightly lighted—for native eyes. A human would consider it dim.
"Why did he choose me?" asked Cassal plaintively. "There must be something he hopes to gain."
"I'm working on it," said Dimanche. "But remember, I have limitations. At short distances I can scan nervous systems, collect and interpret physiological data. I can't read minds. The best I can do is report what a person says or subvocalizes. If you're really interested in finding out why he wants to kill you, I suggest you turn the problem over to the godawful police."
"Godolph, not godawful," corrected Cassal absently.
That was advice he couldn't follow, good as it seemed. He could give the police no evidence save through Dimanche. There were various reasons, many of them involving the law, for leaving the device called Dimanche out of it. The police would act if they found a body. His own, say, floating face-down on some quiet street. That didn't seem the proper approach, either.
"Weapons?"
"The first thing I searched him for. Nothing very dangerous. A long knife, a hard striking object. Both concealed on his person."
Cassal strangled slightly. Dimanche needed a good stiff course in semantics. A knife was still the most silent of weapons. A man could die from it. His hand strayed toward his pocket. He had a measure of protection himself.
"Report," said Dimanche. "Not necessarily final. Based, perhaps, on tenuous evidence."
"Let's have it anyway."
"His motivation is connected somehow with your being marooned here. For some reason you can't get off this planet."
That was startling information, though not strictly true. A thousand star systems were waiting for him, and a ship to take him to each one.
Of course, the one ship he wanted hadn't come in. Godolph was a transfer point for stars nearer the center of the Galaxy. When he had left Earth, he had known he would have to wait a few days here. He hadn't expected a delay of nearly three weeks. Still, it wasn't unusual. Interstellar schedules over great distances were not as reliable as they might be.
Was this man, whoever and whatever he might be, connected with that delay? According to Dimanche, the man thought he was. He was self-deluded or did he have access to information that Cassal didn't?
Denton Cassal, sales engineer, paused for a mental survey of himself. He was a good engineer and, because he was exceptionally well matched to his instrument, the best salesman that Neuronics, Inc., had. On the basis of these qualifications, he had been selected to make a long journey, the first part of which already lay behind him. He had to go to Tunney 21 to see a man. That man wasn't important to anyone save the company that employed him, and possibly not even to them.
The thug trailing him wouldn't be interested in Cassal himself, his mission, which was a commercial one, nor the man on Tunney. And money wasn't the objective, if Dimanche's analysis was right. What did the thug want?
Secrets? Cassal had none, except, in a sense, Dimanche. And that was too well kept on Earth, where the instrument was invented and made, for anyone this far away to have learned about it.
And yet the thug wanted to kill him. Wanted to? Regarded him as good as dead. It might pay him to investigate the matter further, if it didn't involve too much risk.
"Better start moving." That was Dimanche. "He's getting suspicious."
Cassal went slowly along the narrow walkway that bordered each side of that boulevard, the transport tide. It was raining again. It usually was on Godolph, which was a weather-controlled planet where the natives like rain.
He adjusted the controls of the weak force field that repelled the rain. He widened the angle of the field until water slanted through it unhindered. He narrowed it around him until it approached visibility and the drops bounced away. He swore at the miserable climate and the near amphibians who created it.
A few hundred feet away, a Godolphian girl waded out of the transport tide and climbed to the walkway. It was this sort of thing that made life dangerous for a human—Venice revised, brought up to date in a faster-than-light age.
Water. It was a perfect engineering material. Simple, cheap, infinitely flexible. With a minimum of mechanism and at break-neck speed, the ribbon of the transport tide flowed at different levels throughout the city. The Godolphian merely plunged in and was carried swiftly and noiselessly to his destination. Whereas a human—Cassal shivered. If he were found drowned, it would be considered an accident. No investigation would be made. The thug who was trailing him had certainly picked the right place.
The Godolphian girl passed. She wore a sleek brown fur, her own. Cassal was almost positive she muttered a polite "Arf?" as she sloshed by. What she meant by that, he didn't know and didn't intend to find out.
"Follow her," instructed Dimanche. "We've got to investigate our man at closer range."
Obediently, Cassal turned and began walking after the girl. Attractive in an anthropomorphic, seal-like way, even from behind. Not graceful out of her element, though.
The would-be assassin was still looking at merchandise as Cassal retraced his steps. A man, or at least man type. A big fellow, physically quite capable of violence, if size had anything to do with it. The face, though, was out of character. Mild, almost meek. A scientist or scholar. It didn't fit with murder.
"Nothing," said Dimanche disgustedly. "His mind froze when we got close. I could feel his shoulderblades twitching as we passed. Anticipated guilt, of course. Projecting to you the action he plans. That makes the knife definite."
Well beyond the window at which the thug watched and waited, Cassal stopped. Shakily he produced a cigarette and fumbled for a lighter.
"Excellent thinking," commended Dimanche. "He won't attempt anything on this street. Too dangerous. Turn aside at the next deserted intersection and let him follow the glow of your cigarette."
The lighter flared in his hand. "That's one way of finding out," said Cassal. "But wouldn't I be a lot safer if I just concentrated on getting back to the hotel?"
"I'm curious. Turn here."
"Go to hell," said Cassal nervously. Nevertheless, when he came to that intersection, he turned there.
It was a Godolphian equivalent of an alley, narrow and dark, oily slow-moving water gurgling at one side, high cavernous walls looming on the other.
He would have to adjust the curiosity factor of Dimanche. It was all very well to be interested in the man who trailed him, but there was also the problem of coming out of this adventure alive. Dimanche, an electronic instrument, naturally wouldn't consider that.
"Easy," warned Dimanche. "He's at the entrance to the alley, walking fast. He's surprised and pleased that you took this route."
"I'm surprised, too," remarked Cassal. "But I wouldn't say I'm pleased. Not just now."
"Careful. Even subvocalized conversation is distracting." The mechanism concealed within his body was silent for an instant and then continued:
"His blood pressure is rising, breathing is faster. At a time like this, he may be ready to verbalize why he wants to murder you. This is critical."
"That's no lie," agreed Cassal bitterly. The lighter was in his hand. He clutched it grimly. It was difficult not to look back. The darkness assumed an even more sinister quality.
"Quiet," said Dimanche. "He's verbalizing about you."
"He's decided I'm a nice fellow after all. He's going to stop and ask me for a light."
"I don't think so," answered Dimanche. "He's whispering: 'Poor devil. I hate to do it. But it's really his life or mine'."
"He's more right than he knows. Why all this violence, though? Isn't there any clue?"
"None at all," admitted Dimanche. "He's very close. You'd better turn around."
Cassal turned, pressed the stud on the lighter. It should have made him feel more secure, but it didn't. He could see very little.
A dim shadow rushed at him. He jumped away from the water side of the alley, barely in time. He could feel the rush of air as the assailant shot by.
"Hey!" shouted Cassal.
Echoes answered; nothing else did. He had the uncomfortable feeling that no one was going to come to his assistance.
"He wasn't expecting that reaction," explained Dimanche. "That's why he missed. He's turned around and is coming back."
"I'm armed!" shouted Cassal.
"That won't stop him. He doesn't believe you."
Cassal grasped the lighter. That is, it had been a lighter a few seconds before. Now a needle-thin blade had snapped out and projected stiffly. Originally it had been designed as an emergency surgical instrument. A little imagination and a few changes had altered its function, converting it into a compact, efficient stiletto.
"Twenty feet away," advised Dimanche. "He knows you can't see him, but he can see your silhouette by the light from the main thoroughfare. What he doesn't know is that I can detect every move he makes and keep you posted below the level of his hearing."
"Stay on him," growled Cassal nervously. He flattened himself against the wall.
"To the right," whispered Dimanche. "Lunge forward. About five feet. Low."
Sickly, he did so. He didn't care to consider the possible effects of a miscalculation. In the darkness, how far was five feet? Fortunately, his estimate was correct. The rapier encountered yielding resistance, the soggy kind: flesh. The tough blade bent, but did not break. His opponent gasped and broke away.
"Attack!" howled Dimanche against the bone behind his ear. "You've got him. He can't imagine how you know where he is in the darkness. He's afraid."
Attack he did, slicing about wildly. Some of the thrusts landed; some didn't. The percentage was low, the total amount high. His opponent fell to the ground, gasped and was silent.
Cassal fumbled in his pockets and flipped on a light. The man lay near the water side of the alley. One leg was crumpled under him. He didn't move.
"Heartbeat slow," said Dimanche solemnly. "Breathing barely perceptible."
"Then he's not dead," said Cassal in relief.
Foam flecked from the still lips and ran down the chin. Blood oozed from cuts on the face.
"Respiration none, heartbeat absent," stated Dimanche.
Horrified, Cassal gazed at the body. Self-defense, of course, but would the police believe it? Assuming they did, they'd still have to investigate. The rapier was an illegal concealed weapon. And they would question him until they discovered Dimanche. Regrettable, but what could he do about it?
Suppose he were detained long enough to miss the ship bound for Tunney
21?
Grimly, he laid down the rapier. He might as well get to the bottom of this. Why had the man attacked? What did he want?
"I don't know," replied Dimanche irritably. "I can interpret body data—a live body. I can't work on a piece of meat."
Cassal searched the body thoroughly. Miscellaneous personal articles of no value in identifying the man. A clip with a startling amount of money in it. A small white card with something scribbled on it. A picture of a woman and a small child posed against a background which resembled no world Cassal had ever seen. That was all.
Cassal stood up in bewilderment. Dimanche to the contrary, there seemed to be no connection between this dead man and his own problem of getting to Tunney 21.
Right now, though, he had to dispose of the body. He glanced toward the boulevard. So far no one had been attracted by the violence.
He bent down to retrieve the lighter-rapier. Dimanche shouted at him. Before he could react, someone landed on him. He fell forward, vainly trying to grasp the weapon. Strong fingers felt for his throat as he was forced to the ground.
He threw the attacker off and staggered to his feet. He heard footsteps rushing away. A slight splash followed. Whoever it was, he was escaping by way of water.
Whoever it was. The man he had thought he had slain was no longer in sight.
"Interpret body data, do you?" muttered Cassal. "Liveliest dead man I've ever been strangled by."
"It's just possible there are some breeds of men who can control the basic functions of their body," said Dimanche defensively. "When I checked him, he had no heartbeat."
"Remind me not to accept your next evaluation so completely," grunted Cassal. Nevertheless, he was relieved, in a fashion. He hadn't wanted to kill the man. And now there was nothing he'd have to explain to the police.
He needed the cigarette he stuck between his lips. For the second time he attempted to pick up the rapier-lighter. This time he was successful. Smoke swirled into his lungs and quieted his nerves. He squeezed the weapon into the shape of a lighter and put it away.
Something, however, was missing—his wallet.
The thug had relieved him of it in the second round of the scuffle. Persistent fellow. Damned persistent.
It really didn't matter. He fingered the clip he had taken from the supposedly dead body. He had intended to turn it over to the police. Now he might as well keep it to reimburse him for his loss. It contained more money than his wallet had.
Except for the identification tab he always carried in his wallet, it was more than a fair exchange. The identification, a rectangular piece of plastic, was useful in establishing credit, but with the money he now had, he wouldn't need credit. If he did, he could always send for another tab.
A white card fluttered from the clip. He caught it as it fell. Curiously he examined it. Blank except for one crudely printed word, STAB. His unknown assailant certainly had tried.
The old man stared at the door, an obsolete visual projector wobbling precariously on his head. He closed his eyes and the lettering on the door disappeared. Cassal was too far away to see what it had been. The technician opened his eyes and concentrated. Slowly a new sign formed on the door.
TRAVELERS AID BUREAU Murra Foray, First Counselor
It was a drab sign, but, then, it was a dismal, backward planet. The old technician passed on to the next door and closed his eyes again.
With a sinking feeling, Cassal walked toward the entrance. He needed help and he had to find it in this dingy rathole.
Inside, though, it wasn't dingy and it wasn't a rathole. More like a maze, an approved scientific one. Efficient, though not comfortable. Travelers Aid was busier than he thought it would be. Eventually he managed to squeeze into one of the many small counseling rooms.
A woman appeared on the screen, crisp and cool. "Please answer everything the machine asks. When the tape is complete, I'll be available for consultation."
Cassal wasn't sure he was going to like her. "Is this necessary?" he asked. "It's merely a matter of information."
"We have certain regulations we abide by." The woman smiled frostily.
"I can't give you any information until you comply with them."
"Sometimes regulations are silly," said Cassal firmly. "Let me speak to the first counselor."
"You are speaking to her," she said. Her face disappeared from the screen.
Cassal sighed. So far he hadn't made a good impression.
Travelers Aid Bureau, in addition to regulations, was abundantly supplied with official curiosity. When the machine finished with him, Cassal had the feeling he could be recreated from the record it had of him. His individuality had been capsuled into a series of questions and answers. One thing he drew the line at—why he wanted to go to Tunney
21 was his own business.
The first counselor reappeared. Age, indeterminate. Not, he supposed, that anyone would be curious about it. Slightly taller than average, rather on the slender side. Face was broad at the brow, narrow at the chin and her eyes were enigmatic. A dangerous woman.
She glanced down at the data. "Denton Cassal, native of Earth. Destination, Tunney 21." She looked up at him. "Occupation, sales engineer. Isn't that an odd combination?" Her smile was quite superior.
"Not at all. Scientific training as an engineer. Special knowledge of customer relations."
"Special knowledge of a thousand races? How convenient." Her eyebrows arched.
"I think so," he agreed blandly. "Anything else you'd like to know?"
"Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."
He could believe that or not as he wished. He didn't.
"You refused to answer why you were going to Tunney 21. Perhaps I can guess. They're the best scientists in the Galaxy. You wish to study under them."
Close—but wrong on two counts. They were good scientists, though not necessarily the best. For instance, it was doubtful that they could build Dimanche, even if they had ever thought of it, which was even less likely.
There was, however, one relatively obscure research worker on Tunney 21 that Neuronics wanted on their staff. If the fragments of his studies that had reached Earth across the vast distance meant anything, he could help Neuronics perfect instantaneous radio. The company that could build a radio to span the reaches of the Galaxy with no time lag could set its own price, which could be control of all communications, transport, trade—a galactic monopoly. Cassal's share would be a cut of all that.
His part was simple, on the surface. He was to persuade that researcher to come to Earth, if he could . Literally, he had to guess the Tunnesian's price before the Tunnesian himself knew it. In addition, the reputation of Tunnesian scientists being exceeded only by their arrogance, Cassal had to convince him that he wouldn't be working for ignorant Earth savages. The existence of such an instrument as Dimanche was a key factor.
Her voice broke through his thoughts. "Now, then, what's your problem?"
"I was told on Earth I might have to wait a few days on Godolph. I've been here three weeks. I want information on the ship bound for Tunney
21."
"Just a moment." She glanced at something below the angle of the screen. She looked up and her eyes were grave. " Rickrock C arrived yesterday. Departed for Tunney early this morning."
"Departed?" He got up and sat down again, swallowing hard. "When will the next ship arrive?"
"Do you know how many stars there are in the Galaxy?" she asked.
He didn't answer.
"That's right," she said. "Billions. Tunney, according to the notation, is near the center of the Galaxy, inside the third ring. You've covered about a third of the distance to it. Local traffic, anything within a thousand light-years, is relatively easy to manage. At longer distances, you take a chance. You've had yours and missed it. Frankly, Cassal, I don't know when another ship bound for Tunney will show up on or near Godolph. Within the next five years—maybe."
He blanched. "How long would it take to get there using local transportation, star-hopping?"
"Take my advice: don't try it. Five years, if you're lucky."
"I don't need that kind of luck."
"I suppose not." She hesitated. "You're determined to go on?" At the emphatic nod, she sighed. "If that's your decision, we'll try to help you. To start things moving, we'll need a print of your identification tab."
"There's something funny about her," Dimanche decided. It was the usual speaking voice of the instrument, no louder than the noise the blood made in coursing through arteries and veins. Cassal could hear it plainly, because it was virtually inside his ear.
Cassal ignored his private voice. "Identification tab? I don't have it with me. In fact, I may have lost it."
She smiled in instant disbelief. "We're not trying to pry into any part of your past you may wish concealed. However, it's much easier for us to help you if you have your identification. Now if you can't remember your real name and where you put your identification—" She arose and left the screen. "Just a moment."
He glared uneasily at the spot where the first counselor wasn't. His real name!
"Relax," Dimanche suggested. "She didn't mean it as a personal insult."
Presently she returned.
"I have news for you, whoever you are."
"Cassal," he said firmly. "Denton Cassal, sales engineer, Earth. If you don't believe it, send back to—" He stopped. It had taken him four months to get to Godolph, non-stop, plus a six-month wait on Earth for a ship to show up that was bound in the right direction. Over distances such as these, it just wasn't practical to send back to Earth for anything.
"I see you understand." She glanced at the card in her hand. "The spaceport records indicate that when Rickrock C took off this morning, there was a Denton Cassal on board, bound for Tunney 21."
"It wasn't I," he said dazedly. He knew who it was, though. The man who had tried to kill him last night. The reason for the attack now became clear. The thug had wanted his identification tab. Worse, he had gotten it.
"No doubt it wasn't," she said wearily. "Outsiders don't seem to understand what galactic travel entails."
Outsiders? Evidently what she called those who lived beyond the second transfer ring. Were those who lived at the edge of the Galaxy, beyond the first ring, called Rimmers? Probably.
She was still speaking: "Ten years to cross the Galaxy, without stopping. At present, no ship is capable of that. Real scheduling is impossible. Populations shift and have to be supplied. A ship is taken off a run for repairs and is never put back on. It's more urgently needed elsewhere. The man who depended on it is left waiting; years pass before he learns it's never coming.
"If we had instantaneous radio, that would help. Confusion wouldn't vanish overnight, but it would diminish. We wouldn't have to depend on ships for all the news. Reservations could be made ahead of time, credit established, lost identification replaced—"
"I've traveled before," he interrupted stiffly. "I've never had any trouble."
She seemed to be exaggerating the difficulties. True, the center was more congested. Taking each star as the starting point for a limited number of ships and using statistical probability as a guide—why, no man would arrive at his predetermined destination.
But that wasn't the way it worked. Manifestly, you couldn't compare galactic transportation to the erratic paths of air molecules in a giant room. Or could you?
For the average man, anyone who didn't have his own inter-stellar ship, was the comparison too apt? It might be.
"You've traveled outside, where there are still free planets waiting to be settled. Where a man is welcome, if he's able to work." She paused.
"The center is different. Populations are excessive. Inside the third ring, no man is allowed off a ship without an identification tab. They don't encourage immigration."
In effect, that meant no ship bound for the center would take a passenger without identification. No ship owner would run the risk of having a permanent guest on board, someone who couldn't be rid of when his money was gone.
Cassal held his head in his hands. Tunney 21 was inside the third ring.
"Next time," she said, "don't let anyone take your identification."
"I won't," he promised grimly.
The woman looked directly at him. Her eyes were bright. He revised his estimate of her age drastically downward. She couldn't be as old as he. Nothing outward had happened, but she no longer seemed dowdy. Not that he was interested. Still, it might pay him to be friendly to the first counselor.
"We're a philanthropic agency," said Murra Foray. "Your case is special, though—"
"I understand," he said gruffly. "You accept contributions."
She nodded. "If the donor is able to give. We don't ask so much that you'll have to compromise your standard of living." But she named a sum that would force him to do just that if getting to Tunney 21 took any appreciable time.
He stared at her unhappily. "I suppose it's worth it. I can always work, if I have to."
"As a salesman?" she asked. "I'm afraid you'll find it difficult to do business with Godolphians."
Irony wasn't called for at a time like this, he thought reproachfully.
"Not just another salesman," he answered definitely. "I have special knowledge of customer reactions. I can tell exactly—"
He stopped abruptly. Was she baiting him? For what reason? The instrument he called Dimanche was not known to the Galaxy at large. From the business angle, it would be poor policy to hand out that information at random. Aside from that, he needed every advantage he could get. Dimanche was his special advantage.
"Anyway," he finished lamely, "I'm a first class engineer. I can always find something in that line."
"A scientist, maybe," murmured Murra Foray. "But in this part of the Milky Way, an engineer is regarded as merely a technician who hasn't yet gained practical experience." She shook her head. "You'll do better as a salesman."
He got up, glowering. "If that's all—"
"It is. We'll keep you informed. Drop your contribution in the slot provided for that purpose as you leave."
A door, which he hadn't noticed in entering the counselling cubicle, swung open. The agency was efficient.
"Remember," the counselor called out as he left, "identification is hard to work with. Don't accept a crude forgery."
He didn't answer, but it was an idea worth considering. The agency was also eminently practical.
The exit path guided him firmly to an inconspicuous and yet inescapable contribution station. He began to doubt the philanthropic aspect of the bureau.
"I've got it," said Dimanche as Cassal gloomily counted out the sum the first counselor had named.
"Got what?" asked Cassal. He rolled the currency into a neat bundle, attached his name, and dropped it into the chute.
"The woman, Murra Foray, the first counselor. She's a Huntner."
"What's a Huntner?"
"A sub-race of men on the other side of the Galaxy. She was vocalizing about her home planet when I managed to locate her."
"Any other information?"
"None. Electronic guards were sliding into place as soon as I reached her. I got out as fast as I could."
"I see." The significance of that, if any, escaped him. Nevertheless, it sounded depressing.
"What I want to know is," said Dimanche, "why such precautions as electronic guards? What does Travelers Aid have that's so secret?"
Cassal grunted and didn't answer. Dimanche could be annoyingly inquisitive at times.
Cassal had entered one side of a block-square building. He came out on the other side. The agency was larger than he had thought. The old man was staring at a door as Cassal came out. He had apparently changed every sign in the building. His work finished, the technician was removing the visual projector from his head as Cassal came up to him. He turned and peered.
"You stuck here, too?" he asked in the uneven voice of the aged.
"Stuck?" repeated Cassal. "I suppose you can call it that. I'm waiting for my ship." He frowned. He was the one who wanted to ask questions.
"Why all the redecoration? I thought Travelers Aid was an old agency. Why did you change so many signs? I could understand it if the agency were new."
The old man chuckled. "Re-organization. The previous first counselor resigned suddenly, in the middle of the night, they say. The new one didn't like the name of the agency, so she ordered it changed."
She would do just that, thought Cassal. "What about this Murra Foray?"
The old man winked mysteriously. He opened his mouth and then seemed overcome with senile fright. Hurriedly he shuffled away.
Cassal gazed after him, baffled. The old man was afraid for his job, afraid of the first counselor. Why he should be, Cassal didn't know. He shrugged and went on. The agency was now in motion in his behalf, but he didn't intend to depend on that alone.
Question:
Why is Cassal on his way to Tunney 21?
Answer:
|
[
"Cassal is sent on a business trip by Neuronics, Inc., to visit Tunney 21 to see a man. Tunney 21, according to the first counselor, is home to some of the galaxy's most genius scientists. It is later revealed that Neuronics, Inc. wants that man on their staff back on Earth. The man would work towards the company's goal of developing instantaneous radio; this radio system would impact the entire galaxy, technology that could share information with every planet with no time delay. This radio would dominate means of transportation, communications, and commerce. For these reasons, Cassal is not eager to disclose his plans for going to Tunney 21.",
"Denton Cassal was selected to make the journey to Tunney 21 because he is the best sales engineer at Neuronics, Inc. He is secretive about why he wants to go to Tunney 21. He reveals that he wants to go to Tunney 21 to find a research worker that could help Neuronics perfect their instantaneous radio. If he were able to convince the researcher to go to Earth and work on the radio, he would get a share of the profits. An instantaneous radio would be invaluable throughout the galaxy, the profits for both Neuronics and him would be large. ",
"Cassal is a sales engineer back on Earth where he did very good since he matched very well to his instrument. Thus he was selected to go on a trip to see a man. Since this man is at Tunney 21, Cassal has to travel all the way from Earth to Tunney 21. Tunney 21 has great scientists and especially the one that works on Neuronics. If Earth can get his help, then Earth will have perfect instantaneous radio that span the whole Galaxy. Because of its monopoly in instantaneousness and vastness, Earth can literally set its own price. Thus, for this trip to Tunney 21, with the help of Dimanche, Cassal needs to persuade the researcher to come with him to Earth. This way he can also gain profit from the instantaneous radio which will be build afterward.",
"Cassal is on his way to Tunney 21 in order to convince a Tunnesian scientist to join his company, Neuronics. From the pieces of the scientist’s research that had reached Earth, it was concluded that he would be instrumental in perfecting instantaneous radio, a technology which would revolutionize communication in the galaxy. Neuronics aims to monopolize the technology and amass great wealth, from which Cassal would receive a commission.\nCassal, because of his possession of Dimanche, an intelligent implant capable of determining the thoughts of those nearby, is in a good position to negotiate terms with the scientist for two reasons: firstly because he will be able to guess the Tunnesian’s price, and secondly because Dimanche’s sophisticated technology will convince him that Earth is an advanced civilization.\n"
] |
50998
|
DELAY IN TRANSIT
By F. L. WALLACE
Illustrated by SIBLEY
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction September 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
An unprovoked, meaningless night attack is terrifying enough on your own home planet, worse on a world across the Galaxy. But the horror is the offer of help that cannot be accepted!
"Muscles tense," said Dimanche. "Neural index 1.76, unusually high. Adrenalin squirting through his system. In effect, he's stalking you. Intent: probably assault with a deadly weapon."
"Not interested," said Cassal firmly, his subvocalization inaudible to anyone but Dimanche. "I'm not the victim type. He was standing on the walkway near the brink of the thoroughfare. I'm going back to the habitat hotel and sit tight."
"First you have to get there," Dimanche pointed out. "I mean, is it safe for a stranger to walk through the city?"
"Now that you mention it, no," answered Cassal. He looked around apprehensively. "Where is he?"
"Behind you. At the moment he's pretending interest in a merchandise display."
A native stamped by, eyes brown and incurious. Apparently he was accustomed to the sight of an Earthman standing alone, Adam's apple bobbing up and down silently. It was a Godolphian axiom that all travelers were crazy.
Cassal looked up. Not an air taxi in sight; Godolph shut down at dusk. It would be pure luck if he found a taxi before morning. Of course he could walk back to the hotel, but was that such a good idea?
A Godolphian city was peculiar. And, though not intended, it was peculiarly suited to certain kinds of violence. A human pedestrian was at a definite disadvantage.
"Correction," said Dimanche. "Not simple assault. He has murder in mind."
"It still doesn't appeal to me," said Cassal. Striving to look unconcerned, he strolled toward the building side of the walkway and stared into the interior of a small cafe. Warm, bright and dry. Inside, he might find safety for a time.
Damn the man who was following him! It would be easy enough to elude him in a normal city. On Godolph, nothing was normal. In an hour the streets would be brightly lighted—for native eyes. A human would consider it dim.
"Why did he choose me?" asked Cassal plaintively. "There must be something he hopes to gain."
"I'm working on it," said Dimanche. "But remember, I have limitations. At short distances I can scan nervous systems, collect and interpret physiological data. I can't read minds. The best I can do is report what a person says or subvocalizes. If you're really interested in finding out why he wants to kill you, I suggest you turn the problem over to the godawful police."
"Godolph, not godawful," corrected Cassal absently.
That was advice he couldn't follow, good as it seemed. He could give the police no evidence save through Dimanche. There were various reasons, many of them involving the law, for leaving the device called Dimanche out of it. The police would act if they found a body. His own, say, floating face-down on some quiet street. That didn't seem the proper approach, either.
"Weapons?"
"The first thing I searched him for. Nothing very dangerous. A long knife, a hard striking object. Both concealed on his person."
Cassal strangled slightly. Dimanche needed a good stiff course in semantics. A knife was still the most silent of weapons. A man could die from it. His hand strayed toward his pocket. He had a measure of protection himself.
"Report," said Dimanche. "Not necessarily final. Based, perhaps, on tenuous evidence."
"Let's have it anyway."
"His motivation is connected somehow with your being marooned here. For some reason you can't get off this planet."
That was startling information, though not strictly true. A thousand star systems were waiting for him, and a ship to take him to each one.
Of course, the one ship he wanted hadn't come in. Godolph was a transfer point for stars nearer the center of the Galaxy. When he had left Earth, he had known he would have to wait a few days here. He hadn't expected a delay of nearly three weeks. Still, it wasn't unusual. Interstellar schedules over great distances were not as reliable as they might be.
Was this man, whoever and whatever he might be, connected with that delay? According to Dimanche, the man thought he was. He was self-deluded or did he have access to information that Cassal didn't?
Denton Cassal, sales engineer, paused for a mental survey of himself. He was a good engineer and, because he was exceptionally well matched to his instrument, the best salesman that Neuronics, Inc., had. On the basis of these qualifications, he had been selected to make a long journey, the first part of which already lay behind him. He had to go to Tunney 21 to see a man. That man wasn't important to anyone save the company that employed him, and possibly not even to them.
The thug trailing him wouldn't be interested in Cassal himself, his mission, which was a commercial one, nor the man on Tunney. And money wasn't the objective, if Dimanche's analysis was right. What did the thug want?
Secrets? Cassal had none, except, in a sense, Dimanche. And that was too well kept on Earth, where the instrument was invented and made, for anyone this far away to have learned about it.
And yet the thug wanted to kill him. Wanted to? Regarded him as good as dead. It might pay him to investigate the matter further, if it didn't involve too much risk.
"Better start moving." That was Dimanche. "He's getting suspicious."
Cassal went slowly along the narrow walkway that bordered each side of that boulevard, the transport tide. It was raining again. It usually was on Godolph, which was a weather-controlled planet where the natives like rain.
He adjusted the controls of the weak force field that repelled the rain. He widened the angle of the field until water slanted through it unhindered. He narrowed it around him until it approached visibility and the drops bounced away. He swore at the miserable climate and the near amphibians who created it.
A few hundred feet away, a Godolphian girl waded out of the transport tide and climbed to the walkway. It was this sort of thing that made life dangerous for a human—Venice revised, brought up to date in a faster-than-light age.
Water. It was a perfect engineering material. Simple, cheap, infinitely flexible. With a minimum of mechanism and at break-neck speed, the ribbon of the transport tide flowed at different levels throughout the city. The Godolphian merely plunged in and was carried swiftly and noiselessly to his destination. Whereas a human—Cassal shivered. If he were found drowned, it would be considered an accident. No investigation would be made. The thug who was trailing him had certainly picked the right place.
The Godolphian girl passed. She wore a sleek brown fur, her own. Cassal was almost positive she muttered a polite "Arf?" as she sloshed by. What she meant by that, he didn't know and didn't intend to find out.
"Follow her," instructed Dimanche. "We've got to investigate our man at closer range."
Obediently, Cassal turned and began walking after the girl. Attractive in an anthropomorphic, seal-like way, even from behind. Not graceful out of her element, though.
The would-be assassin was still looking at merchandise as Cassal retraced his steps. A man, or at least man type. A big fellow, physically quite capable of violence, if size had anything to do with it. The face, though, was out of character. Mild, almost meek. A scientist or scholar. It didn't fit with murder.
"Nothing," said Dimanche disgustedly. "His mind froze when we got close. I could feel his shoulderblades twitching as we passed. Anticipated guilt, of course. Projecting to you the action he plans. That makes the knife definite."
Well beyond the window at which the thug watched and waited, Cassal stopped. Shakily he produced a cigarette and fumbled for a lighter.
"Excellent thinking," commended Dimanche. "He won't attempt anything on this street. Too dangerous. Turn aside at the next deserted intersection and let him follow the glow of your cigarette."
The lighter flared in his hand. "That's one way of finding out," said Cassal. "But wouldn't I be a lot safer if I just concentrated on getting back to the hotel?"
"I'm curious. Turn here."
"Go to hell," said Cassal nervously. Nevertheless, when he came to that intersection, he turned there.
It was a Godolphian equivalent of an alley, narrow and dark, oily slow-moving water gurgling at one side, high cavernous walls looming on the other.
He would have to adjust the curiosity factor of Dimanche. It was all very well to be interested in the man who trailed him, but there was also the problem of coming out of this adventure alive. Dimanche, an electronic instrument, naturally wouldn't consider that.
"Easy," warned Dimanche. "He's at the entrance to the alley, walking fast. He's surprised and pleased that you took this route."
"I'm surprised, too," remarked Cassal. "But I wouldn't say I'm pleased. Not just now."
"Careful. Even subvocalized conversation is distracting." The mechanism concealed within his body was silent for an instant and then continued:
"His blood pressure is rising, breathing is faster. At a time like this, he may be ready to verbalize why he wants to murder you. This is critical."
"That's no lie," agreed Cassal bitterly. The lighter was in his hand. He clutched it grimly. It was difficult not to look back. The darkness assumed an even more sinister quality.
"Quiet," said Dimanche. "He's verbalizing about you."
"He's decided I'm a nice fellow after all. He's going to stop and ask me for a light."
"I don't think so," answered Dimanche. "He's whispering: 'Poor devil. I hate to do it. But it's really his life or mine'."
"He's more right than he knows. Why all this violence, though? Isn't there any clue?"
"None at all," admitted Dimanche. "He's very close. You'd better turn around."
Cassal turned, pressed the stud on the lighter. It should have made him feel more secure, but it didn't. He could see very little.
A dim shadow rushed at him. He jumped away from the water side of the alley, barely in time. He could feel the rush of air as the assailant shot by.
"Hey!" shouted Cassal.
Echoes answered; nothing else did. He had the uncomfortable feeling that no one was going to come to his assistance.
"He wasn't expecting that reaction," explained Dimanche. "That's why he missed. He's turned around and is coming back."
"I'm armed!" shouted Cassal.
"That won't stop him. He doesn't believe you."
Cassal grasped the lighter. That is, it had been a lighter a few seconds before. Now a needle-thin blade had snapped out and projected stiffly. Originally it had been designed as an emergency surgical instrument. A little imagination and a few changes had altered its function, converting it into a compact, efficient stiletto.
"Twenty feet away," advised Dimanche. "He knows you can't see him, but he can see your silhouette by the light from the main thoroughfare. What he doesn't know is that I can detect every move he makes and keep you posted below the level of his hearing."
"Stay on him," growled Cassal nervously. He flattened himself against the wall.
"To the right," whispered Dimanche. "Lunge forward. About five feet. Low."
Sickly, he did so. He didn't care to consider the possible effects of a miscalculation. In the darkness, how far was five feet? Fortunately, his estimate was correct. The rapier encountered yielding resistance, the soggy kind: flesh. The tough blade bent, but did not break. His opponent gasped and broke away.
"Attack!" howled Dimanche against the bone behind his ear. "You've got him. He can't imagine how you know where he is in the darkness. He's afraid."
Attack he did, slicing about wildly. Some of the thrusts landed; some didn't. The percentage was low, the total amount high. His opponent fell to the ground, gasped and was silent.
Cassal fumbled in his pockets and flipped on a light. The man lay near the water side of the alley. One leg was crumpled under him. He didn't move.
"Heartbeat slow," said Dimanche solemnly. "Breathing barely perceptible."
"Then he's not dead," said Cassal in relief.
Foam flecked from the still lips and ran down the chin. Blood oozed from cuts on the face.
"Respiration none, heartbeat absent," stated Dimanche.
Horrified, Cassal gazed at the body. Self-defense, of course, but would the police believe it? Assuming they did, they'd still have to investigate. The rapier was an illegal concealed weapon. And they would question him until they discovered Dimanche. Regrettable, but what could he do about it?
Suppose he were detained long enough to miss the ship bound for Tunney
21?
Grimly, he laid down the rapier. He might as well get to the bottom of this. Why had the man attacked? What did he want?
"I don't know," replied Dimanche irritably. "I can interpret body data—a live body. I can't work on a piece of meat."
Cassal searched the body thoroughly. Miscellaneous personal articles of no value in identifying the man. A clip with a startling amount of money in it. A small white card with something scribbled on it. A picture of a woman and a small child posed against a background which resembled no world Cassal had ever seen. That was all.
Cassal stood up in bewilderment. Dimanche to the contrary, there seemed to be no connection between this dead man and his own problem of getting to Tunney 21.
Right now, though, he had to dispose of the body. He glanced toward the boulevard. So far no one had been attracted by the violence.
He bent down to retrieve the lighter-rapier. Dimanche shouted at him. Before he could react, someone landed on him. He fell forward, vainly trying to grasp the weapon. Strong fingers felt for his throat as he was forced to the ground.
He threw the attacker off and staggered to his feet. He heard footsteps rushing away. A slight splash followed. Whoever it was, he was escaping by way of water.
Whoever it was. The man he had thought he had slain was no longer in sight.
"Interpret body data, do you?" muttered Cassal. "Liveliest dead man I've ever been strangled by."
"It's just possible there are some breeds of men who can control the basic functions of their body," said Dimanche defensively. "When I checked him, he had no heartbeat."
"Remind me not to accept your next evaluation so completely," grunted Cassal. Nevertheless, he was relieved, in a fashion. He hadn't wanted to kill the man. And now there was nothing he'd have to explain to the police.
He needed the cigarette he stuck between his lips. For the second time he attempted to pick up the rapier-lighter. This time he was successful. Smoke swirled into his lungs and quieted his nerves. He squeezed the weapon into the shape of a lighter and put it away.
Something, however, was missing—his wallet.
The thug had relieved him of it in the second round of the scuffle. Persistent fellow. Damned persistent.
It really didn't matter. He fingered the clip he had taken from the supposedly dead body. He had intended to turn it over to the police. Now he might as well keep it to reimburse him for his loss. It contained more money than his wallet had.
Except for the identification tab he always carried in his wallet, it was more than a fair exchange. The identification, a rectangular piece of plastic, was useful in establishing credit, but with the money he now had, he wouldn't need credit. If he did, he could always send for another tab.
A white card fluttered from the clip. He caught it as it fell. Curiously he examined it. Blank except for one crudely printed word, STAB. His unknown assailant certainly had tried.
The old man stared at the door, an obsolete visual projector wobbling precariously on his head. He closed his eyes and the lettering on the door disappeared. Cassal was too far away to see what it had been. The technician opened his eyes and concentrated. Slowly a new sign formed on the door.
TRAVELERS AID BUREAU Murra Foray, First Counselor
It was a drab sign, but, then, it was a dismal, backward planet. The old technician passed on to the next door and closed his eyes again.
With a sinking feeling, Cassal walked toward the entrance. He needed help and he had to find it in this dingy rathole.
Inside, though, it wasn't dingy and it wasn't a rathole. More like a maze, an approved scientific one. Efficient, though not comfortable. Travelers Aid was busier than he thought it would be. Eventually he managed to squeeze into one of the many small counseling rooms.
A woman appeared on the screen, crisp and cool. "Please answer everything the machine asks. When the tape is complete, I'll be available for consultation."
Cassal wasn't sure he was going to like her. "Is this necessary?" he asked. "It's merely a matter of information."
"We have certain regulations we abide by." The woman smiled frostily.
"I can't give you any information until you comply with them."
"Sometimes regulations are silly," said Cassal firmly. "Let me speak to the first counselor."
"You are speaking to her," she said. Her face disappeared from the screen.
Cassal sighed. So far he hadn't made a good impression.
Travelers Aid Bureau, in addition to regulations, was abundantly supplied with official curiosity. When the machine finished with him, Cassal had the feeling he could be recreated from the record it had of him. His individuality had been capsuled into a series of questions and answers. One thing he drew the line at—why he wanted to go to Tunney
21 was his own business.
The first counselor reappeared. Age, indeterminate. Not, he supposed, that anyone would be curious about it. Slightly taller than average, rather on the slender side. Face was broad at the brow, narrow at the chin and her eyes were enigmatic. A dangerous woman.
She glanced down at the data. "Denton Cassal, native of Earth. Destination, Tunney 21." She looked up at him. "Occupation, sales engineer. Isn't that an odd combination?" Her smile was quite superior.
"Not at all. Scientific training as an engineer. Special knowledge of customer relations."
"Special knowledge of a thousand races? How convenient." Her eyebrows arched.
"I think so," he agreed blandly. "Anything else you'd like to know?"
"Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."
He could believe that or not as he wished. He didn't.
"You refused to answer why you were going to Tunney 21. Perhaps I can guess. They're the best scientists in the Galaxy. You wish to study under them."
Close—but wrong on two counts. They were good scientists, though not necessarily the best. For instance, it was doubtful that they could build Dimanche, even if they had ever thought of it, which was even less likely.
There was, however, one relatively obscure research worker on Tunney 21 that Neuronics wanted on their staff. If the fragments of his studies that had reached Earth across the vast distance meant anything, he could help Neuronics perfect instantaneous radio. The company that could build a radio to span the reaches of the Galaxy with no time lag could set its own price, which could be control of all communications, transport, trade—a galactic monopoly. Cassal's share would be a cut of all that.
His part was simple, on the surface. He was to persuade that researcher to come to Earth, if he could . Literally, he had to guess the Tunnesian's price before the Tunnesian himself knew it. In addition, the reputation of Tunnesian scientists being exceeded only by their arrogance, Cassal had to convince him that he wouldn't be working for ignorant Earth savages. The existence of such an instrument as Dimanche was a key factor.
Her voice broke through his thoughts. "Now, then, what's your problem?"
"I was told on Earth I might have to wait a few days on Godolph. I've been here three weeks. I want information on the ship bound for Tunney
21."
"Just a moment." She glanced at something below the angle of the screen. She looked up and her eyes were grave. " Rickrock C arrived yesterday. Departed for Tunney early this morning."
"Departed?" He got up and sat down again, swallowing hard. "When will the next ship arrive?"
"Do you know how many stars there are in the Galaxy?" she asked.
He didn't answer.
"That's right," she said. "Billions. Tunney, according to the notation, is near the center of the Galaxy, inside the third ring. You've covered about a third of the distance to it. Local traffic, anything within a thousand light-years, is relatively easy to manage. At longer distances, you take a chance. You've had yours and missed it. Frankly, Cassal, I don't know when another ship bound for Tunney will show up on or near Godolph. Within the next five years—maybe."
He blanched. "How long would it take to get there using local transportation, star-hopping?"
"Take my advice: don't try it. Five years, if you're lucky."
"I don't need that kind of luck."
"I suppose not." She hesitated. "You're determined to go on?" At the emphatic nod, she sighed. "If that's your decision, we'll try to help you. To start things moving, we'll need a print of your identification tab."
"There's something funny about her," Dimanche decided. It was the usual speaking voice of the instrument, no louder than the noise the blood made in coursing through arteries and veins. Cassal could hear it plainly, because it was virtually inside his ear.
Cassal ignored his private voice. "Identification tab? I don't have it with me. In fact, I may have lost it."
She smiled in instant disbelief. "We're not trying to pry into any part of your past you may wish concealed. However, it's much easier for us to help you if you have your identification. Now if you can't remember your real name and where you put your identification—" She arose and left the screen. "Just a moment."
He glared uneasily at the spot where the first counselor wasn't. His real name!
"Relax," Dimanche suggested. "She didn't mean it as a personal insult."
Presently she returned.
"I have news for you, whoever you are."
"Cassal," he said firmly. "Denton Cassal, sales engineer, Earth. If you don't believe it, send back to—" He stopped. It had taken him four months to get to Godolph, non-stop, plus a six-month wait on Earth for a ship to show up that was bound in the right direction. Over distances such as these, it just wasn't practical to send back to Earth for anything.
"I see you understand." She glanced at the card in her hand. "The spaceport records indicate that when Rickrock C took off this morning, there was a Denton Cassal on board, bound for Tunney 21."
"It wasn't I," he said dazedly. He knew who it was, though. The man who had tried to kill him last night. The reason for the attack now became clear. The thug had wanted his identification tab. Worse, he had gotten it.
"No doubt it wasn't," she said wearily. "Outsiders don't seem to understand what galactic travel entails."
Outsiders? Evidently what she called those who lived beyond the second transfer ring. Were those who lived at the edge of the Galaxy, beyond the first ring, called Rimmers? Probably.
She was still speaking: "Ten years to cross the Galaxy, without stopping. At present, no ship is capable of that. Real scheduling is impossible. Populations shift and have to be supplied. A ship is taken off a run for repairs and is never put back on. It's more urgently needed elsewhere. The man who depended on it is left waiting; years pass before he learns it's never coming.
"If we had instantaneous radio, that would help. Confusion wouldn't vanish overnight, but it would diminish. We wouldn't have to depend on ships for all the news. Reservations could be made ahead of time, credit established, lost identification replaced—"
"I've traveled before," he interrupted stiffly. "I've never had any trouble."
She seemed to be exaggerating the difficulties. True, the center was more congested. Taking each star as the starting point for a limited number of ships and using statistical probability as a guide—why, no man would arrive at his predetermined destination.
But that wasn't the way it worked. Manifestly, you couldn't compare galactic transportation to the erratic paths of air molecules in a giant room. Or could you?
For the average man, anyone who didn't have his own inter-stellar ship, was the comparison too apt? It might be.
"You've traveled outside, where there are still free planets waiting to be settled. Where a man is welcome, if he's able to work." She paused.
"The center is different. Populations are excessive. Inside the third ring, no man is allowed off a ship without an identification tab. They don't encourage immigration."
In effect, that meant no ship bound for the center would take a passenger without identification. No ship owner would run the risk of having a permanent guest on board, someone who couldn't be rid of when his money was gone.
Cassal held his head in his hands. Tunney 21 was inside the third ring.
"Next time," she said, "don't let anyone take your identification."
"I won't," he promised grimly.
The woman looked directly at him. Her eyes were bright. He revised his estimate of her age drastically downward. She couldn't be as old as he. Nothing outward had happened, but she no longer seemed dowdy. Not that he was interested. Still, it might pay him to be friendly to the first counselor.
"We're a philanthropic agency," said Murra Foray. "Your case is special, though—"
"I understand," he said gruffly. "You accept contributions."
She nodded. "If the donor is able to give. We don't ask so much that you'll have to compromise your standard of living." But she named a sum that would force him to do just that if getting to Tunney 21 took any appreciable time.
He stared at her unhappily. "I suppose it's worth it. I can always work, if I have to."
"As a salesman?" she asked. "I'm afraid you'll find it difficult to do business with Godolphians."
Irony wasn't called for at a time like this, he thought reproachfully.
"Not just another salesman," he answered definitely. "I have special knowledge of customer reactions. I can tell exactly—"
He stopped abruptly. Was she baiting him? For what reason? The instrument he called Dimanche was not known to the Galaxy at large. From the business angle, it would be poor policy to hand out that information at random. Aside from that, he needed every advantage he could get. Dimanche was his special advantage.
"Anyway," he finished lamely, "I'm a first class engineer. I can always find something in that line."
"A scientist, maybe," murmured Murra Foray. "But in this part of the Milky Way, an engineer is regarded as merely a technician who hasn't yet gained practical experience." She shook her head. "You'll do better as a salesman."
He got up, glowering. "If that's all—"
"It is. We'll keep you informed. Drop your contribution in the slot provided for that purpose as you leave."
A door, which he hadn't noticed in entering the counselling cubicle, swung open. The agency was efficient.
"Remember," the counselor called out as he left, "identification is hard to work with. Don't accept a crude forgery."
He didn't answer, but it was an idea worth considering. The agency was also eminently practical.
The exit path guided him firmly to an inconspicuous and yet inescapable contribution station. He began to doubt the philanthropic aspect of the bureau.
"I've got it," said Dimanche as Cassal gloomily counted out the sum the first counselor had named.
"Got what?" asked Cassal. He rolled the currency into a neat bundle, attached his name, and dropped it into the chute.
"The woman, Murra Foray, the first counselor. She's a Huntner."
"What's a Huntner?"
"A sub-race of men on the other side of the Galaxy. She was vocalizing about her home planet when I managed to locate her."
"Any other information?"
"None. Electronic guards were sliding into place as soon as I reached her. I got out as fast as I could."
"I see." The significance of that, if any, escaped him. Nevertheless, it sounded depressing.
"What I want to know is," said Dimanche, "why such precautions as electronic guards? What does Travelers Aid have that's so secret?"
Cassal grunted and didn't answer. Dimanche could be annoyingly inquisitive at times.
Cassal had entered one side of a block-square building. He came out on the other side. The agency was larger than he had thought. The old man was staring at a door as Cassal came out. He had apparently changed every sign in the building. His work finished, the technician was removing the visual projector from his head as Cassal came up to him. He turned and peered.
"You stuck here, too?" he asked in the uneven voice of the aged.
"Stuck?" repeated Cassal. "I suppose you can call it that. I'm waiting for my ship." He frowned. He was the one who wanted to ask questions.
"Why all the redecoration? I thought Travelers Aid was an old agency. Why did you change so many signs? I could understand it if the agency were new."
The old man chuckled. "Re-organization. The previous first counselor resigned suddenly, in the middle of the night, they say. The new one didn't like the name of the agency, so she ordered it changed."
She would do just that, thought Cassal. "What about this Murra Foray?"
The old man winked mysteriously. He opened his mouth and then seemed overcome with senile fright. Hurriedly he shuffled away.
Cassal gazed after him, baffled. The old man was afraid for his job, afraid of the first counselor. Why he should be, Cassal didn't know. He shrugged and went on. The agency was now in motion in his behalf, but he didn't intend to depend on that alone.
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What changes does Barry Barr undergo throughout the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Lost Tribes of Venus by Erik Fennel.
Relevant chunks:
for Doran's action? Doran must have seen something—" "Doran's charts show high suggestibility under stress. Another weak personality eliminated. Let's regard it that way. He imagined he saw something." He glanced at Marsha. "Did you see anything?" She hesitated, avoiding Bruce's eyes. "Nothing at all. There wasn't anything out there to see, except the dust and rocks. That's all there is to see here. We could stay a million years and never see anything else. A shadow maybe—" "All right," Terrence interrupted. "Now, Bruce, you know the law regulating the treatment of serious psycho cases in space?" "Yes. Execution." "No
meaning now. It was a question of which set of conquering heroes could conquer the most space first. So far, only Venus had fallen. They had done a good, thorough job there. Four ships had come to Mars and their crews had disappeared. This was the fifth attempt— Terrence said, "why did you shoot Doran?" "I didn't like him enough to take the nonsense he was handing me, and when he shot the—" Bruce hesitated. "What? When he shot what?" Bruce felt an odd tingling in his stomach. The wind's voice seemed to sharpen and rise to a kind of
when he woke from them. "This is a mere formality," Terrence finally said, "since we all know you killed Lieutenant Doran a few hours ago. Marsha saw you kill him. Whatever you say goes on the record, of course." "For whom?" Bruce asked. "What kind of question is that? For the authorities on Earth when we get back." "When you get back? Like the crews of those other four ships out there?" Bruce laughed without much humor. Terrence rubbed a palm across his lips, dropped the hand quickly again to his belly. "You want to make a statement or not?
mission that huge and depressing in eight short, vanishing days? How had his people gotten into such a condition? As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown across space from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashing on this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women. When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffs from the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of the huge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upon a forge. Solar radiations drenched them.
smoke from one of the blockhouses. As he felt fear trying to master him, he began reviewing all the things he must remember and, above all, what to do in an emergency. “X minus ten seconds—five—four—three—two—one—FIRE!” There was a mighty explosion at Skyharbor. The initial jolt which Marsh felt was much fiercer than the gradually built up speed of the whirling centrifuge in training. He was crushed deeply into his contour chair. It felt as though someone were pressing on his eyeballs; indeed, as if every organ in his body were clinging to his backbone. But these first moments would
Question:
What changes does Barry Barr undergo throughout the story?
Answer:
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[
"Barry Barr transforms from a regular human male to a creature that breathes underwater and requires moisture to survive. After being exposed to Sigma radiation while removing particles from the outer hull of Four, Barry began to feel changes in his body. Air felt dry and hot in his lungs and he quickly developed shortness of breath. Fainting spells ensued and breathing difficulties. Once they arrived on Venus, Dr. Carl Jensen gave a grave diagnosis of the unknown. Barry developed dark marks on both sides of his neck, which soon transformed into gills. Webbing grew between his fingers and toes, and his revulsion to dry air only grew. He built a moisture machine to keep in his room so he could breathe comfortably. But it still wasn’t enough. On the night he was trapped inside of the dry room, he broke out and escaped to the water. Although his lungs weren’t fully adjusted to breathing water, he took off like a rocket and battled several Venusian creatures with ease. Barry goes from completely human to a humanoid merman of sorts. ",
"After volunteering for the spacewalk to remove the meteorite debris, Barr wakens from a nap unusually hungry and has trouble breathing the air on the ship. As he tries to eat, he notices a sense of heat and dryness that bothers him so much that it becomes difficult to breathe. When his meal is over, he loses consciousness just after it dawns on him that the Kendall-shield on his spacesuit had leaked. Barr suffers delirium, fever, fainting spells, and unquenchable thirst; all the while, breathing becomes increasingly difficult for him. After drawing a plan, his friend Nick builds a humidifier for Barr, which keeps his room so humid that water is dripping off the walls; this enables him to breathe more freely. When he gets a glass of water, he pours it down his throat while breathing, meaning the water goes into his lungs. The doctor doesn’t know what is happening to Barr, but he tells him that if a normal person poured water in their lungs like that, they would die of a coughing spasm or congestive pneumonia. Once they land on Venus, however, Barr can breathe easily due to the humid air. Barr also has rudimentary gills growing on the sides of his neck, and webbed skins begin growing between his fingers and toes as his gills develop further. When Hinds cuts off the humidifier to Barr’s room and locks him in, Barr would have died if he hadn’t been able to break the window and get out. Even then, his gills have developed so much that the Venusian air doesn’t completely take care of his needs. Not until he submerges himself in the water of the slough can Barr breathe freely. When he makes his way to the ocean, he encounters creatures who are nearly human but who, like Barr, have webbed fingers and toes, so it appears that Barr has become a Venusian.\n",
"Barry had been chosen for the Five Ships Plan because of his structural engineering expertise as well as his experience in tropical climates. His job in the Venus Colony would be to repurpose the ships that would be left behind on Venus into useful items as well as to study native Venusian materials. After stepping out into space to remove the debris from the outside of Number Four, Barry succumbs to Sigma radiation poisoning and begins to physically transform. At first, he has difficulty breathing in the air pumped through the spaceship. When Number Four lands on Venus, he is pleased to discover the thick humidity eases the choking in his throat. But the water in the atmosphere is not enough, and he continues to experience severe pains in his body as the change continues. Dr. Carl Jensen helps him through this process; he initially identifies the darkening patch on the sides of his neck as rudimentary gills. In addition, Barry develops webbed feet. Although his love for Dorothy has motivated Barry to push through adversity to arrive safely on Venus, he begins to realize that his physical developments are going to become a permanent barrier between his old reality and his new one. He can no longer breathe on land, so he desperately plunges into the water. As he swims into the ocean, his lungs fill with water and he can breathe easier. He also runs into the elusive Venusian natives, who look much like humans with bodies adapted to life underwater. This will likely become Barry's new home.",
"Before the story begins, Barry volunteers for the Five Ship Plan with his experience in tropical conditions making him a good fit. At the Training Base, he meets Dorothy Voorhees who he falls for, but Robson Hind is also interested, so Barry doesn't trust Robson. At the start of the story, Barry wakes up with the ship in free fall and works with the rest of the crew to stabalize whatever systems they can. After he is exposed to Sigma radiation, it gets harder and harder for him to breathe over time. In the early stages, he faints a lot, and develops a fever, becomes delirious, and has an unquenchable thirst. When he is exposed to Venusian air, it becomes easier for him to breathe and his chest pains become more manageable. After he passes out again, he starts inhaling water to put it straight into his lungs, surprising his doctor, which leads to him noticing the gills developing on his neck. His hands and feet grow webs as his gills developed further, and his depression gets worse through the transformation. He wakes up one day to find his machine has been turned off, andd has to break out of the room and jump into the water to save himself, where he learns that his gills work perfectly well. He finds he is much more comfortable underwater even though he still needs more time to adapt to these changes, as his lungs are still strained very quickly which impacts his endurance."
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for Doran's action? Doran must have seen something—" "Doran's charts show high suggestibility under stress. Another weak personality eliminated. Let's regard it that way. He imagined he saw something." He glanced at Marsha. "Did you see anything?" She hesitated, avoiding Bruce's eyes. "Nothing at all. There wasn't anything out there to see, except the dust and rocks. That's all there is to see here. We could stay a million years and never see anything else. A shadow maybe—" "All right," Terrence interrupted. "Now, Bruce, you know the law regulating the treatment of serious psycho cases in space?" "Yes. Execution." "No
meaning now. It was a question of which set of conquering heroes could conquer the most space first. So far, only Venus had fallen. They had done a good, thorough job there. Four ships had come to Mars and their crews had disappeared. This was the fifth attempt— Terrence said, "why did you shoot Doran?" "I didn't like him enough to take the nonsense he was handing me, and when he shot the—" Bruce hesitated. "What? When he shot what?" Bruce felt an odd tingling in his stomach. The wind's voice seemed to sharpen and rise to a kind of
when he woke from them. "This is a mere formality," Terrence finally said, "since we all know you killed Lieutenant Doran a few hours ago. Marsha saw you kill him. Whatever you say goes on the record, of course." "For whom?" Bruce asked. "What kind of question is that? For the authorities on Earth when we get back." "When you get back? Like the crews of those other four ships out there?" Bruce laughed without much humor. Terrence rubbed a palm across his lips, dropped the hand quickly again to his belly. "You want to make a statement or not?
mission that huge and depressing in eight short, vanishing days? How had his people gotten into such a condition? As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown across space from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashing on this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women. When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffs from the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of the huge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upon a forge. Solar radiations drenched them.
smoke from one of the blockhouses. As he felt fear trying to master him, he began reviewing all the things he must remember and, above all, what to do in an emergency. “X minus ten seconds—five—four—three—two—one—FIRE!” There was a mighty explosion at Skyharbor. The initial jolt which Marsh felt was much fiercer than the gradually built up speed of the whirling centrifuge in training. He was crushed deeply into his contour chair. It felt as though someone were pressing on his eyeballs; indeed, as if every organ in his body were clinging to his backbone. But these first moments would
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Why is John Smith interested in holes?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Holes and John Smith by Edward W. Ludwig.
Relevant chunks:
a lot?" She nodded. "Fitzgerald's my favorite author." She started around the table, hesitated, suddenly grew shy. "Would you like some lemonade?" He'd noticed the dewed silver pitcher, but only now realized his thirst. Yet when she handed him a glass, he held it untasted and said awkwardly, "I haven't introduced myself. I'm Jack Barry." She stared at his outstretched right hand, slowly extended her own toward it, shook it up and down exactly once, then quickly dropped it. He chuckled and gulped some lemonade. "I'm a biology student. Been working at Wood's Hole the first part of the summer.
"In my youth we were indentured to the dredge-masters. I myself drew a muck sledge." "But in these modern times," put in Magnan, "surely it's incumbent on us to make happy these golden hours." The minister snorted. "Last week I had a golden hour. They set upon me and pelted me with overripe stench-fruit." "But this was merely a manifestation of normal youthful frustrations," cried Magnan. "Their essential tenderness—" "You'd not find a tender spot on that lout yonder," the minister said, pointing with a fork at a newly arrived Youth, "if you drilled boreholes and blasted." "Why, that's our
'em around his neck!" "You," Chip told him serenely, "have no appreciation of beauty. What do you think of it, Padre?" "Salvation" Smith, a tall, gangling scarecrow garbed in rusty black, a lean-jawed, hawkeyed man with tumbled locks of silver framing his weathered cheeks like a halo, concealed his grin poorly. "Well, my boy," he admitted, "there is some Biblical precedent for your—ahem!—clamorous raiment. 'So Joseph made for himself a coat which was of many colors—'" "Both of you," declared Chip, "give me a pain in the pants! Stick-in-the-muds! Here we are in port for the first time in months,
Scientist: A project is contemplated that will have a crucial bearing on man's future in deep space. Ample non-military Government funds are available. There was a time when professional men scoffed at the Thinkers. Then there was a time when the Thinkers perforce neglected the professional men. Now both times are past. May they never return! I would like to consult you this afternoon, three o'clock sharp, Thinkers' Foundation I. Jorj Helmuth Meanwhile the who?-where? had tossed out a dozen cards. He glanced through them, hesitated at the name "Willard Farquar," looked at the sleeping girl, then quickly tossed them
You've taken just about every undergrad course there is in those fields. How long are you going to keep this up?" "I'm signed up for Astronomy 101," Isherwood pointed out. The faculty advisor snorted. "A snap course. A breather, after you've studied the same stuff in Celestial Navigation. What's the matter, Ish? Scared of liberal arts?" Isherwood shook his head. "Uh-unh. Not interested. No time. And that Astronomy course isn't a breather. Different slant from Cee Nav—they won't be talking about stars as check points, but as things in themselves." Something seemed to flicker across his face as he said
Question:
Why is John Smith interested in holes?
Answer:
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[
"John Smith is interested in holes because he wants to go back to his own time dimension. He explains to Jimmie that his colleagues did not believe that before the tapes, instruments that played music existed. He further details that on his way back to the University with his instrument, the Zloomph, he fell through a hole and out of his own time dimension. He states that a researcher is to blame for not securing a force field over the hole to prevent someone from falling through. John Smith is interested in holes because he believes that any hole could potentially bring him back to his own time dimension so that he can prove that this theory was credit. He does not want people to think that he was wrong. ",
"He is interested in the holes because he needs to find the correct one in order to go home. He mentions that the foundation of their cultures is based on the history of all the time dimensions. The different dimensions are interwoven and the holes can provide insights into the different dimensions. Similar to time or space travel. Back in his time, he was proving a point to the University, but some researcher forgot to set a force-field for the hole, thus, he fell through the hole into Jimmie’s time. He needs to go back immediately. If he doesn’t, the University will think that he cannot prove his theory and ran away. But because everything are made up of holes – even his body has holes – John becomes worried of not able to find the correct one. ",
"John Smith desperately wants to return home and believes that finding the right hole is the way. There are many time dimensions interwoven through the ages and the holes let people travel between and study them. Such a hole may be anything, so it's almost impossible to find the inter-dimensional one. John fell into one in the dark in his dimension, that way he showed up in this place, but he wants to return, so he studies every hole. The fall prevented John from proving his point about ancient history to some scientists and he doesn't want them to consider him a coward. He needs to return to his dimension and prove the point. ",
"John Smith is interested in holes because he believes that he can return to his time dimension through the right one. During his conversation with Jimmie, he explains that holes are a first-hand method of studying time dimensions and cultures. All of the objects around them, including the beer bottles, doors, caves, animal holes, mines, faces, and clothes, all have millions of holes. However, even with all of these holes, John is desperate because he cannot find the right one to return home. He blames his initial travel on some fool of a researcher who forgot to set a force-fold over the hole that he fell through in his dimension. "
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a lot?" She nodded. "Fitzgerald's my favorite author." She started around the table, hesitated, suddenly grew shy. "Would you like some lemonade?" He'd noticed the dewed silver pitcher, but only now realized his thirst. Yet when she handed him a glass, he held it untasted and said awkwardly, "I haven't introduced myself. I'm Jack Barry." She stared at his outstretched right hand, slowly extended her own toward it, shook it up and down exactly once, then quickly dropped it. He chuckled and gulped some lemonade. "I'm a biology student. Been working at Wood's Hole the first part of the summer.
"In my youth we were indentured to the dredge-masters. I myself drew a muck sledge." "But in these modern times," put in Magnan, "surely it's incumbent on us to make happy these golden hours." The minister snorted. "Last week I had a golden hour. They set upon me and pelted me with overripe stench-fruit." "But this was merely a manifestation of normal youthful frustrations," cried Magnan. "Their essential tenderness—" "You'd not find a tender spot on that lout yonder," the minister said, pointing with a fork at a newly arrived Youth, "if you drilled boreholes and blasted." "Why, that's our
'em around his neck!" "You," Chip told him serenely, "have no appreciation of beauty. What do you think of it, Padre?" "Salvation" Smith, a tall, gangling scarecrow garbed in rusty black, a lean-jawed, hawkeyed man with tumbled locks of silver framing his weathered cheeks like a halo, concealed his grin poorly. "Well, my boy," he admitted, "there is some Biblical precedent for your—ahem!—clamorous raiment. 'So Joseph made for himself a coat which was of many colors—'" "Both of you," declared Chip, "give me a pain in the pants! Stick-in-the-muds! Here we are in port for the first time in months,
Scientist: A project is contemplated that will have a crucial bearing on man's future in deep space. Ample non-military Government funds are available. There was a time when professional men scoffed at the Thinkers. Then there was a time when the Thinkers perforce neglected the professional men. Now both times are past. May they never return! I would like to consult you this afternoon, three o'clock sharp, Thinkers' Foundation I. Jorj Helmuth Meanwhile the who?-where? had tossed out a dozen cards. He glanced through them, hesitated at the name "Willard Farquar," looked at the sleeping girl, then quickly tossed them
You've taken just about every undergrad course there is in those fields. How long are you going to keep this up?" "I'm signed up for Astronomy 101," Isherwood pointed out. The faculty advisor snorted. "A snap course. A breather, after you've studied the same stuff in Celestial Navigation. What's the matter, Ish? Scared of liberal arts?" Isherwood shook his head. "Uh-unh. Not interested. No time. And that Astronomy course isn't a breather. Different slant from Cee Nav—they won't be talking about stars as check points, but as things in themselves." Something seemed to flicker across his face as he said
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What is Daniel Oak’s job?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about His Master's Voice by Randall Garrett.
Relevant chunks:
secret society, we find it desirable that they have a personal interview with the Grand Chairman of POSAT. Accordingly, you are cordially invited to an audience with our Grand Chairman on Tuesday, July 10, at 2:30 P.M. Please let us know if this arrangement is acceptable to you. If not, we will attempt to make another appointment for you. The time specified for the appointment was hardly a convenient one for Don. At 2:30 P.M. on most Tuesdays, he would be at work in the laboratory. And while his employers made no complaint if he took his research problems home
vice-president of the Oak Grove Merchants' Bank came up out of the vault, threw the heavy time locks, put on his hat and coat, and hurried outside onto the sidewalk. Only a few people were there, hurrying home to dinner. "Good night," the guard said, locking the door after him. "Good night," Clarence Mason murmured. He started along the street toward his car. He was tired. He had been working all day down in the vault, examining the lay-out of the safety deposit boxes to see if there was room for another tier. He was glad to be finished. At
he wrote exactly that, in small, neat script. It was unfortunate for his curiosity that Don could not see the contents of the three envelopes that were mailed from the offices of POSAT the following week. For this time they differed. Bill Evans was once again disappointed. The pamphlet that was enclosed gave what apparently meant to be final answers to life's problems. They were couched in vaguely metaphysical terms and offered absolutely no help to him. His disappointment was tempered, however, by the knowledge that he had unexpectedly found a job. Or, rather, it had fallen into his lap.
the Commissioner snapped off the recorder and got to his feet. He stood for a moment, deep in thought. Finally he got out his cigarettes and lit up slowly, a frown on his beefy face. "You don't believe me," Loyce said. The Commissioner offered him a cigarette. Loyce pushed it impatiently away. "Suit yourself." The Commissioner moved over to the window and stood for a time looking out at the town of Oak Grove. "I believe you," he said abruptly. Loyce sagged. "Thank God." "So you got away." The Commissioner shook his head. "You were down in your cellar instead
knees. Crawling, creeping through the night. His shoes were mud-caked. He was scratched and limping, utterly exhausted. But ahead of him lay Oak Grove. He took a deep breath and started down the hill. Twice he stumbled and fell, picking himself up and trudging on. His ears rang. Everything receded and wavered. But he was there. He had got out, away from Pikeville. A farmer in a field gaped at him. From a house a young woman watched in wonder. Loyce reached the road and turned onto it. Ahead of him was a gasoline station and a drive-in. A couple
Question:
What is Daniel Oak’s job?
Answer:
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[
"Daniel Oak states that he has an office in New York and describes himself as a Confidential Expediter. He has worked with Ravenhurst before and the story begins with an understanding that Daniel recently completed a job for Ravenhurst. He later mentions that he is a double agent. Daniel works for the Political Survey Division branch of the System Census Bureau for the UN government. Unbeknownst to most of the System’s citizens, the Political Survey Division is the Secret Service arm of the UN government. \n\nA flitterboat is a more economical option than a full spaceship. It is described as having a single gravitoinertial engine. It is meant to have the most basic necessities that are needed for a person to survive their journey, which includes oxygen, water, and the requirement of food necessary. The flitterboat is not necessarily more affordable, but it does provide the purpose of transporting from one Belt to another Belt. Daniel Oak details how a vacuum suit is needed to be worn in a flitterboat.\n",
"Daniel is, officially, a confidential expediter. In this role, he helps to ensure the rapid completion of projects to which his employers have assigned him. Typically, his job involves finding other people who are able to fulfil the request initially assigned to him, and collecting his fee. \nIn the case of the McGuire project, which involves the construction of a sophisticated spaceship operating system capable of understanding and speaking English, Daniel is also operating in his capacity as an agent of the Political survey Division. The PSD is a branch of the System Census Bureau of the UN government, and is often thought to be responsible for surveying the state of political systems throughout the System. However, in reality the PSD more closely resembles a secret service of the UN. \n",
"Daniel Oak's official job title is a Confidential Expediter. His job consists of helping others complete tasks, usually hiring a third party and collecting a fee. Daniel Oak is also an agent of the Political Survey Division, a Secret Service organization. In the story, Daniel Oak has been hired by Ravenhurst directly in order to ensure that his company, Viking Spacecraft, succeeds in business with the development of the new McGuire model. He is hired specifically to prevent sabotage to McGuire, as sabotage would lead to the downfall of the Viking business.",
"Daniel Oak is a confidential expediter who helps people to get their things done. So normally he would find someone who is an expert in the area that his customers are looking for, then pair them and then collect the fees. Interestingly, now he is a double agent. He was working for Ravenhurst where he had to prevent sabotage. However, during that job, he was not successful since he did sabotage their robot, McGuire. Because he is the first one that the robot spoke to after it is activated, thus McGuire only listens to the order given by him. Moreover, since costly thus not worthwhile , and McGuire’s build in program does not allow tampering. \n\nCurrently, Ravenhurst is telling Oak to go to Ceres to help with the roboticists build MGYR-8. Because Raverhurst wants it to be not only fast and safe, but also wants it to become something that can be used commercially. And later, when he arrives in Ceres, Brock asks him for help. While he didn’t agree to do so, he did suggest they work together, since they are all working for Ravenhurst, there should not be a conflict of interest. "
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secret society, we find it desirable that they have a personal interview with the Grand Chairman of POSAT. Accordingly, you are cordially invited to an audience with our Grand Chairman on Tuesday, July 10, at 2:30 P.M. Please let us know if this arrangement is acceptable to you. If not, we will attempt to make another appointment for you. The time specified for the appointment was hardly a convenient one for Don. At 2:30 P.M. on most Tuesdays, he would be at work in the laboratory. And while his employers made no complaint if he took his research problems home
vice-president of the Oak Grove Merchants' Bank came up out of the vault, threw the heavy time locks, put on his hat and coat, and hurried outside onto the sidewalk. Only a few people were there, hurrying home to dinner. "Good night," the guard said, locking the door after him. "Good night," Clarence Mason murmured. He started along the street toward his car. He was tired. He had been working all day down in the vault, examining the lay-out of the safety deposit boxes to see if there was room for another tier. He was glad to be finished. At
he wrote exactly that, in small, neat script. It was unfortunate for his curiosity that Don could not see the contents of the three envelopes that were mailed from the offices of POSAT the following week. For this time they differed. Bill Evans was once again disappointed. The pamphlet that was enclosed gave what apparently meant to be final answers to life's problems. They were couched in vaguely metaphysical terms and offered absolutely no help to him. His disappointment was tempered, however, by the knowledge that he had unexpectedly found a job. Or, rather, it had fallen into his lap.
the Commissioner snapped off the recorder and got to his feet. He stood for a moment, deep in thought. Finally he got out his cigarettes and lit up slowly, a frown on his beefy face. "You don't believe me," Loyce said. The Commissioner offered him a cigarette. Loyce pushed it impatiently away. "Suit yourself." The Commissioner moved over to the window and stood for a time looking out at the town of Oak Grove. "I believe you," he said abruptly. Loyce sagged. "Thank God." "So you got away." The Commissioner shook his head. "You were down in your cellar instead
knees. Crawling, creeping through the night. His shoes were mud-caked. He was scratched and limping, utterly exhausted. But ahead of him lay Oak Grove. He took a deep breath and started down the hill. Twice he stumbled and fell, picking himself up and trudging on. His ears rang. Everything receded and wavered. But he was there. He had got out, away from Pikeville. A farmer in a field gaped at him. From a house a young woman watched in wonder. Loyce reached the road and turned onto it. Ahead of him was a gasoline station and a drive-in. A couple
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Why is Mr. Crandon an important character in the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about What is POSAT? by Phyllis Sterling Smith.
Relevant chunks:
Orphans of the Void By MICHAEL SHAARA Illustrated by EMSH [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction June 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Finding a cause worth dying for is no great trick—the Universe is full of them. Finding one worth living for is the genuine problem! In the region of the Coal Sack Nebula, on the dead fourth planet of a star called Tyban, Captain Steffens of the Mapping Command stood counting buildings. Eleven. No, twelve. He wondered if there was any significance in
Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science Fiction June 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. THE VALLEY By Richard Stockham Illustrated by Ed Emsh If you can't find it countless millions of miles in space, come back to Earth. You might find it just on the other side of the fence—where the grass is always greener. The Ship dove into Earth's sea of atmosphere like a great, silver fish. Inside the ship, a man and woman stood looking down at the expanse of land that
The Beast-Jewel of Mars By V. E. THIESSEN The city was strange, fantastic, beautiful. He'd never been there before, yet already he was a fabulous legend—a dire, hateful legend. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Spring 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] He lay on his stomach, a lean man in faded one piece dungarees, and an odd metallic hat, peering over the side of the canal. Behind him the little winds sifted red dust into his collar, but he could not move; he could only
know! Walton wavered, then abruptly made his decision. He sucked in a deep breath and walked briskly toward the big room where the euthanasia files were kept. The room was large, as rooms went nowadays—thirty by twenty, with deck upon deck of Donnerson micro-memory-tubes racked along one wall and a bank of microfilm records along the other. In six weeks of life Popeek had piled up an impressive collection of data. While he stood there, the computer chattered, lights flashed. New facts poured into the memory banks. It probably went on day and night. "Can I help—oh, it's you, Mr.
lived to remember it. Until hospitals are built on this forlorn world, humans like you who haven't been properly conditioned will have to stay right at home." "How about these men that live and work here?" "They never get here until they've been through the mill first. Adenoids, appendix', all the extra parts they can get along without." "Well," Judith said. "I've certainly learned my lesson!" Gray didn't answer, but from out of the darkness surrounding her came a sound remarkably resembling a snort. "Gray?" Judith asked fearfully. "Yes?" "Hasn't the pilot been gone an awfully long time?" Rat himself
Question:
Why is Mr. Crandon an important character in the story?
Answer:
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[
"Mr. Crandon is a member of POSAT, and he is also a professor, published author, and researcher. Don admires Mr. Crandon as an intellectual before he realizes that Crandon is also the Grand Chairman of POSAT. When Don finds out that Crandon is a member of the secret society, he is shocked. Don knows that Crandon is a highly intelligent person, and POSAT seems like a scam. When Crandon explains the truth about the ancient society, its history, its goals, and its ability to pick the finest individuals to join its ranks, Don listens carefully because of his prior connection to Crandon. Had the Grand Chairman been a complete stranger to Don, he might have written the entire experience off as a manipulative scheme or a simply impossible endeavor. After one short conversation and a tour of the building, Don is willing to join POSAT as a member. Crandon is a persuasive salesman and a true believer in the organization and its goal to make a more civil society. ",
"Dr. Crandon contributes two major things to this story. The first is that he was Donald Alford's mentor as a research scientist, so he was in no small part responsible for Donald's training, giving him the tools he needed to do the research he was doing at work and could be doing with POSAT. The other major role that he plays is that of Grand Chairman of POSAT. Not only is he in charge of the organization as a whole, but he is the one who explains the history and the goals of the organization to the scientists that are recruited. ",
"Dr. Crandon is a research physicist and former professor of Don Alford. When Don first discovers the POSAT ad, he is reading a research paper by Crandon in The Bulletin of Physical Research. Crandon's instruction grounded Alford in the mastery of and commitment to the scientific process and thereby contributed to his skepticism regarding POSAT's promise of mystical wisdom. Therefore, Don is shocked to discover the Grand Chairman of POSAT is Dr. Crandon himself. Crandon delineates the history of POSAT as a hundreds-of-years-old organization meant to preserve and advance the knowledge and discoveries of its founder. The discoveries run the gamut of technology, mathematics, and physical science and pre-date contemporary discoveries such as atomic reactors by centuries. As Crandon explains, these discoveries have been kept secret because humanity could not be trusted to use them responsibly. In the meantime, POSAT has developed a massive computing machine that can analyze human behavior to determine motivations and predict reactions to certain events and knowledge. Crandon hopes that by joining POSAT, Don can use his knowledge of physics to contribute to their mission and, eventually, peacefully introduce their discoveries to society.",
"Dr. Crandon was a professor at a university that Donald Alford once attended. As a fellow scientist, he wrote several research papers and was even published in scientific journals. Donald Alford was reading his latest scholarly journal article when he came across the advertisement for POSAT. It’s clear that Alford admires Dr. Crandon both as his former student and as a scientist. It is later revealed that Dr. Crandon is in fact the Grand Master of the Perpetual Order of Seekers After Truth. He is not the founder, however, but he serves his organization with pride. Alford’s curiosity, scientific attitude, and admiration for Dr. Crandon were several factors in his admittance to joining POSAT. "
] |
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Orphans of the Void By MICHAEL SHAARA Illustrated by EMSH [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction June 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Finding a cause worth dying for is no great trick—the Universe is full of them. Finding one worth living for is the genuine problem! In the region of the Coal Sack Nebula, on the dead fourth planet of a star called Tyban, Captain Steffens of the Mapping Command stood counting buildings. Eleven. No, twelve. He wondered if there was any significance in
Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science Fiction June 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. THE VALLEY By Richard Stockham Illustrated by Ed Emsh If you can't find it countless millions of miles in space, come back to Earth. You might find it just on the other side of the fence—where the grass is always greener. The Ship dove into Earth's sea of atmosphere like a great, silver fish. Inside the ship, a man and woman stood looking down at the expanse of land that
The Beast-Jewel of Mars By V. E. THIESSEN The city was strange, fantastic, beautiful. He'd never been there before, yet already he was a fabulous legend—a dire, hateful legend. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Spring 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] He lay on his stomach, a lean man in faded one piece dungarees, and an odd metallic hat, peering over the side of the canal. Behind him the little winds sifted red dust into his collar, but he could not move; he could only
know! Walton wavered, then abruptly made his decision. He sucked in a deep breath and walked briskly toward the big room where the euthanasia files were kept. The room was large, as rooms went nowadays—thirty by twenty, with deck upon deck of Donnerson micro-memory-tubes racked along one wall and a bank of microfilm records along the other. In six weeks of life Popeek had piled up an impressive collection of data. While he stood there, the computer chattered, lights flashed. New facts poured into the memory banks. It probably went on day and night. "Can I help—oh, it's you, Mr.
lived to remember it. Until hospitals are built on this forlorn world, humans like you who haven't been properly conditioned will have to stay right at home." "How about these men that live and work here?" "They never get here until they've been through the mill first. Adenoids, appendix', all the extra parts they can get along without." "Well," Judith said. "I've certainly learned my lesson!" Gray didn't answer, but from out of the darkness surrounding her came a sound remarkably resembling a snort. "Gray?" Judith asked fearfully. "Yes?" "Hasn't the pilot been gone an awfully long time?" Rat himself
|
What is the significance of the mystery metal from the starship?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Captain Midas by Alfred Coppel.
Relevant chunks:
nicked jaws? And where had he heard them? Digging ore on Pluto; talk in the pits? Secretive suspicions voiced in smoke-laden saloons of Mars? In the labor gangs of Uranus? Where? Shano smoked and didn't know. But he knew there was a rumor, and that it was the talk of ignorant men. The captain had evaded it. Shano smoked and coughed and stared at the steel bulkhead and waited. The ship's alarm clanged. Shano jerked from his bunk like a broken watch spring. He crouched, trembling, on arthritic joints, as a loud-speaker blared throughout the ship. " All hands! We
of futile sons? What can I do to save myself from dying eight days from now? Is there escape? His eyes widened, another image came to focus. Beyond this valley of cliffs, on a low mountain lay a perfect, unscarred metal seed. A metal ship, not rusted or touched by the avalanches. The ship was deserted, whole, intact. It was the only ship of all these that had crashed that was still a unit, still usable. But it was so far away. There was no one in it to help. This ship, then, on the far mountain, was the destiny
Strange indeed. It was mostly silence. Occasionally, as though from another world, came a brief, curt order. "Port guns alert." Then hush and tension. The deck lurched and the ship swung this way and that. Maybe dodging, maybe maneuvering—Shano didn't know. He felt the deck lurch, that was all. "Fire number seven." He heard the weird scream of a ray gun, and felt the constricting terror that seemed to belt the ship like an iron band. This was a battle in space, and out there were Uranian cruisers trying to blast the Stardust out of the sky. Trying and trying,
mission that huge and depressing in eight short, vanishing days? How had his people gotten into such a condition? As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown across space from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashing on this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women. When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffs from the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of the huge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upon a forge. Solar radiations drenched them.
the heavy steel rods, driving the ship. Keeping the jets screaming and hurtling the liner Stardust toward Venus. He wondered if they'd found Rourke yet. If he could keep going for twelve hours they would get to Venus. After that.... "Home," he coughed. "Hell! Who wants to go home?" He plucked at his agitated chest, thinking of a whole damn Uranian fleet swooping down on a spot in space, expecting to find a crippled ship there with a spy inside it. And finding nothing. Because of Shano. A useless old man. Coughing came out all mixed up with laughing.
Question:
What is the significance of the mystery metal from the starship?
Answer:
|
[
"The mystery metal is significant because it initially attracted the crew’s interest due to their greed - they had hoped to tear about the derelict starship and sell its pieces for millions. When the Captain tested out the mysterious metal and saw that it turned out to be gold, his greed increased so much that he became suspicious of his crew members that were sent out to investigate the ship. \n\nAlthough the Captain and his crew thought they could take advantage of this metal and benefit from it, it turns out that the opposite is true. Instead, it is this mystery metal that gains its yellow-tint and subsequent gold composition through drawing its energy from them and draining the crew of their youth and strength. The latter named ‘devil-metal’ demonstrates the hastiness of the greed of man, and how it led them to be so enraptured in greed that it blinded them of the wariness of strange objects in space, and hence led to their ultimate demise. \n",
"All the spacemen in this story are greedy and materialistic. When the Maid’s crew finds the derelict, they think of selling its parts. This thought cheers them up. Then Midas finds out the starship’s metal can turn into gold, and Spinelli learns that, too. Eventually, this chunk of gold makes Midas’ hands slowly decay while he sleeps with it every night. Spinelli becomes more and more suspicious and suspects everyone to be a traitor. Eventually, Midas realizes the starship’s metal has some evil in it. When he finds his team almost dead and still trying to climb the golden walls of the room, he understands that the metal takes the energy required for its stability from humans. This gold quite literally kills. Greed ends the lives of almost all crewmates of the Maid and leaves Midas to slowly die in a hospital cot, regretting his lethal hunger for money.",
"The mystery metal from the derelict can draw energy from life and turn itself into gold through the transmutation of the energy. In the story, the crews on Maid, a spaceship, find a large derelict constituted of this mysterious metal and bring it with them. Soon after they find out its property of becoming gold, they start to fight with each other and caress the metal unstoppably, but they do not know where the energy that makes the metal change comes from. After the captain kills one crewmember, finding the lost signals and weirdness of his hand and the metal, he realizes the metal draws the needed energy from humans. The mysterious metal plays a significant role in that it triggers the greed of the crewmembers to cause them to fight, symbolizing the cursed treasure. It is also the leading cause that most crew members die or mutate, except for the captain, showing that any treasure comes with a cost, in which case, the mysterious metal is the treasure, and the life is the cost.",
"The mystery metal, later revealed to be ‘gold’, is significant because it is what drives the crew to want to become rich and leads to their downfall. When the captain first discovers it is gold, he thinks about how wealthy the entire crew will become once they reach Callisto and sell it off. The mystery metal is worth a lot of money, and it is what makes them decide to take the entire ship with them. However, this metal is also deadly because it sucks the energy from the crew. Out of their greed, they fail to realize that the gold drains their lifespan away to continue functioning. The crew has to pay the ultimate price with their lives, and only Captain Midas survives the incident. Even as they are old and skeletal, the rest of the crew do not want to give up the possibility of gold. When the captain goes to Callisto, everybody scorns him and laughs at him despite how terrible his story is about the gold. "
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nicked jaws? And where had he heard them? Digging ore on Pluto; talk in the pits? Secretive suspicions voiced in smoke-laden saloons of Mars? In the labor gangs of Uranus? Where? Shano smoked and didn't know. But he knew there was a rumor, and that it was the talk of ignorant men. The captain had evaded it. Shano smoked and coughed and stared at the steel bulkhead and waited. The ship's alarm clanged. Shano jerked from his bunk like a broken watch spring. He crouched, trembling, on arthritic joints, as a loud-speaker blared throughout the ship. " All hands! We
of futile sons? What can I do to save myself from dying eight days from now? Is there escape? His eyes widened, another image came to focus. Beyond this valley of cliffs, on a low mountain lay a perfect, unscarred metal seed. A metal ship, not rusted or touched by the avalanches. The ship was deserted, whole, intact. It was the only ship of all these that had crashed that was still a unit, still usable. But it was so far away. There was no one in it to help. This ship, then, on the far mountain, was the destiny
Strange indeed. It was mostly silence. Occasionally, as though from another world, came a brief, curt order. "Port guns alert." Then hush and tension. The deck lurched and the ship swung this way and that. Maybe dodging, maybe maneuvering—Shano didn't know. He felt the deck lurch, that was all. "Fire number seven." He heard the weird scream of a ray gun, and felt the constricting terror that seemed to belt the ship like an iron band. This was a battle in space, and out there were Uranian cruisers trying to blast the Stardust out of the sky. Trying and trying,
mission that huge and depressing in eight short, vanishing days? How had his people gotten into such a condition? As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown across space from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashing on this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women. When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffs from the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of the huge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upon a forge. Solar radiations drenched them.
the heavy steel rods, driving the ship. Keeping the jets screaming and hurtling the liner Stardust toward Venus. He wondered if they'd found Rourke yet. If he could keep going for twelve hours they would get to Venus. After that.... "Home," he coughed. "Hell! Who wants to go home?" He plucked at his agitated chest, thinking of a whole damn Uranian fleet swooping down on a spot in space, expecting to find a crippled ship there with a spy inside it. And finding nothing. Because of Shano. A useless old man. Coughing came out all mixed up with laughing.
|
What is the relationship between George Faircloth and Marge Faircloth?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Prime Difference by Alan Edward Nourse.
Relevant chunks:
his tired eyes expressively. "Tasted punk," he grinned at her. She sat down on the floor suddenly and buried her face. "Rat," she said presently, "I want to ask you something, rather personal? Your ... name. 'Rat'? Roberds told me something about your record. But ... please tell me, Rat. You didn't know the attack was coming, did you?" He grinned again and waggled his head at her. "No. Who tell Rat?" Suddenly he was deadly serious as he spoke to her. "Rat a.w.o.l., go out to help sick man alone in desert. Rat leave post. Not time send call
asked. "We call him Rat," Roberds said. She didn't ask why. She said: "Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean? What is his record?" Peterson opened his mouth. "Shut up, Peterson!" the Chief snapped. "We don't talk about his record around here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell." "Stow it, Chief," said Peterson. "Miss Gray is no pantywaist." He turned to the nurse. "Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?" Patti Gray paled. "Yes," she whispered. "Was Rat in that?" Roberds shook his head. "He didn't take part in it. But Rat was attached to a very
attack of space-appendicitis. The rest you know." "So you?" "So I'm a combination nurse, governess, guard and what have you. Or will be until we get back. After this, I'll probably be looking for work." She shivered. "Cold?" he inquired concernedly. "On the contrary, I'm too warm." She started to remove the blanket. Rat threw up a hand to stop her. "Leave on! Hot out here." "But I'm too hot now. I want to take it off!" "No. Leave on. Wool blanket. Keep in body heat, yes. Keep out cold, yes. Keep in, keep out, likewise. See?" Gray stared at
many days?" His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of those inhuman eyes. She fell face first to the floor. "I can't keep it up!" she cried. The sound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. "I cant! I cant!" A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. "Get up!" Rat stood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. "Get up!" She stared at him, dazed. He kicked her. "Get up!" The tepid water ran off her face and far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Rat was
she guiltily told herself, and it was his tremendous vitality.... It was like meeting a movie hero in the flesh, or a hero out of the pages of a book—Deer-slayer, John Clayton, Lord Greystoke. She waited in the doorway to the laboratory and made no move to join them, merely acknowledged the two with a nod and a smile and a casual lift of the hand. They nodded and smiled back. "Hello, June," said Pat and continued telling his tale, but as they passed he lightly touched her arm. "Oh, pioneer!" she said mockingly and softly to his passing profile,
Question:
What is the relationship between George Faircloth and Marge Faircloth?
Answer:
|
[
"George Faircloth and Marge Faircloth are husband and wife. They have married for 8 years. Their relationship is toxic and unsatisfying. George is fed up with Marge’s constant complaints, grievance, and crying. Marge is unsatisfied with George’s inattention to her and his possible affairs with women in his office, so she often spies on George’s office life, which irritates George more. They are constantly in fight. Their way of communicating with each other is to attack and fight, and they haven’t seen each other carefully and sweetly for a long time. Their relationship is to conquer and be conquered repeatedly, fighting all the time.",
"George and Marge Faircloth have been married for eight years. George claims that their life is full of scandals and distrust. They fight ninety percent of the time. Marge is often complaining, crying, or criticizing George. She is jealous, and once when a new secretary started working with George, she threw a tantrum and spoiled the evening. Marge doesn’t get enough attention from him and knows that he can be indecent. They both do not enjoy living together, and George finds it easy to buy the Prime android and spend his evenings with his female colleagues. At the end, Marge and George end up with the android duplicates of their spouse and feel much happier. ",
"The relationship between George and Marge is very tense. It seems as if in the past they had a great relationship, but now they just fight. George states that they fight almost every night, and that it is very hard for them to spend time together without there being something that Marge complains about. It is also clear that George doesn’t try to make Marge happy anymore. Both of them quit the relationship and instead bought prime androids so that they could have more freedom outside of the marriage. ",
"George Faircloth and Marge Faircloth are a couple that have been engaged for eight years. They are trapped in an unhappy marriage where George feels trapped by a wife, who although he finds stunning, does not stop complaining, crying and whining about the most unnecessary issues of their coupled life. The two have tried to make the marriage better but never yet succeeded. They were never able to consider divorce as an option because the Family Solidarity Amendment of 1968 charges incredibly high taxes on the process. Marge is also a jealous wife which makes George feel even more suffocated. Marge finds out that George has an affair with his secretary, Jeree. In the story, George finds a solution to this unhappy marriage by purchasing an Ego Prime, an android clone of himself that looks and behaves like him, so that he can go on about his life as the android deals with the coupled life for him. In the first stage, this android brings him lots of joy as he is able to meet with his secretary and other women as he pleases. Then, as he notices that his wife gets more tender and more caring, he starts appreciating and missing her more. By the end of the story, he finds out that Marge knew his trick all along and that she booked herself a trip to Bermuda with his money. Marge also had a Prime of herself, who is the real person George has in fact fallen for.\n"
] |
51321
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his tired eyes expressively. "Tasted punk," he grinned at her. She sat down on the floor suddenly and buried her face. "Rat," she said presently, "I want to ask you something, rather personal? Your ... name. 'Rat'? Roberds told me something about your record. But ... please tell me, Rat. You didn't know the attack was coming, did you?" He grinned again and waggled his head at her. "No. Who tell Rat?" Suddenly he was deadly serious as he spoke to her. "Rat a.w.o.l., go out to help sick man alone in desert. Rat leave post. Not time send call
asked. "We call him Rat," Roberds said. She didn't ask why. She said: "Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean? What is his record?" Peterson opened his mouth. "Shut up, Peterson!" the Chief snapped. "We don't talk about his record around here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell." "Stow it, Chief," said Peterson. "Miss Gray is no pantywaist." He turned to the nurse. "Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?" Patti Gray paled. "Yes," she whispered. "Was Rat in that?" Roberds shook his head. "He didn't take part in it. But Rat was attached to a very
attack of space-appendicitis. The rest you know." "So you?" "So I'm a combination nurse, governess, guard and what have you. Or will be until we get back. After this, I'll probably be looking for work." She shivered. "Cold?" he inquired concernedly. "On the contrary, I'm too warm." She started to remove the blanket. Rat threw up a hand to stop her. "Leave on! Hot out here." "But I'm too hot now. I want to take it off!" "No. Leave on. Wool blanket. Keep in body heat, yes. Keep out cold, yes. Keep in, keep out, likewise. See?" Gray stared at
many days?" His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of those inhuman eyes. She fell face first to the floor. "I can't keep it up!" she cried. The sound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. "I cant! I cant!" A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. "Get up!" Rat stood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. "Get up!" She stared at him, dazed. He kicked her. "Get up!" The tepid water ran off her face and far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Rat was
she guiltily told herself, and it was his tremendous vitality.... It was like meeting a movie hero in the flesh, or a hero out of the pages of a book—Deer-slayer, John Clayton, Lord Greystoke. She waited in the doorway to the laboratory and made no move to join them, merely acknowledged the two with a nod and a smile and a casual lift of the hand. They nodded and smiled back. "Hello, June," said Pat and continued telling his tale, but as they passed he lightly touched her arm. "Oh, pioneer!" she said mockingly and softly to his passing profile,
|
What is the relationship between Jon Karyl and his Steel-Blue (the one that he initially meets)?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Acid Bath by Bill Garson.
Relevant chunks:
to his boyhood home from Earth—too late for anything. He went outside into the square. A lizard was sunning itself and staring at him with lidless eyes. When he moved across the square, the lizard scurried away. "Earthman!" a quavering voice called. Steve ran toward the sound. In the scant shadow of the community center, a Kumaji was resting. He was a withered old man, all skin and bones and sweat-stiffened tunic, with enormous red-rimmed eyes. His purple skin, which had been blasted by the merciless sun, was almost black. Steve held the canteen to his lips and watched his
time lately? The ocean. He'd seen the ocean. Not a reservoir or lake made by flooding and by damming, but salt water and enormous. An ocean, where there could be no ocean. The Pangborns and Elvertons had been where that ocean was now. And after the Elvertons had come the Dobsons. And after them the new plastics plant. And after that the city of Crossville. And after that.... He was passing his own farm. He hadn't come through town, and yet here he was at his own farm. Could he have forgotten where town was? Could it be north of
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
A wayfarer's return from a far country to his wife and family may be a shining experience, a kind of second honeymoon. Or it may be so shadowed by Time's relentless tyranny that the changes which have occurred in his absence can lead only to tragedy and despair. This rarely discerning, warmly human story by a brilliant newcomer to the science fantasy field is told with no pulling of punches, and its adroit unfolding will astound you. the hoofer by ... Walter M. Miller, Jr. A space rover has no business with a family. But what can a man in
him. The skin between his fingers and toes spread, grew into membranous webs. The swellings in his neck became more pronounced and dark parallel lines appeared. But despite the doctor's pessimistic reports that the changes had not stopped, Barry continued to tell himself he was recovering. He had to believe and keep on believing to retain sanity in the face of the weird, unclassifiable feelings that surged through his body. Still he was subject to fits of almost suicidal depression, and Dorothy's failure to visit him did not help his mental condition. Then one day he woke from a nap
Question:
What is the relationship between Jon Karyl and his Steel-Blue (the one that he initially meets)?
Answer:
|
[
"Jon is initially curious about the Steel-Blue that he first meets in the space station. When he notices that it has eyes on the back of its head, it even says “Thank you” to him. It also tells him that its species can read his mind. The Steel-Blue also explains to him that the metal they use at the station is considered to be the softest one from where the Space Blue’s come from. It is not openly hostile towards him, but it does speak almost contemptuously when they go to the examination room. Although his Steel Blue initially did not show much hostility, it does warn him to not even think about contacting the SP ship or using his weapon. However, it does tease him and say that he gets absent-minded at times. When it tells him about the torture, his Blue Steel speaks in an almost-caressing way as well. When Jon breaks out of his tank to find food, his Steel-Blue tells him that it is the first of the creatures that he has met. It commands him to go back to the tank. Although it seems friendly at first, Jon and the Steel-Blue do not have any sort of positive relationship. The Steel-Blue wishes to see him suffer, while Jon wants to survive and get out of the torture room. ",
"The relationship between Karyl and his Steel-Blue is a tentative friendship, I would say. Both parties are curious about each other and seem more interested in learning about each other, rather than being vindictive like the No.1 Steel-Blue seems to be. For example, his Steel-Blue thanks Karyl when the latter comments on his innovative eyes on the back on his head. \n\nKaryl converses and interacts with his Steel-Blue the most, both in regards to the incoming SP ship as well as Karyl's apparent absent-mindedness. ",
"Jon Karyl, a starways’ Lone Watcher, is in a controlled relationship with the Steel-Blue, an extra-terrestrial robotic creature that he first meets. He is stricken down by the Steel-Blue and taken by it to its spaceship. Jon is the captive and the watched prisoner of the Steel-Blue. When Jon tries to escape from his prison or the torture because of the unbearable hunger, the Steel-Blue forces him to go back and stay in the newly-built smaller igloo. Jon breaks one tentacle of the Steel-Blue by using his stubray pistol when he tries to resist it. The Steel-Blue suppresses Jon by showing the power of its weapon and forces him back to the prison. The relationship between them is superior and inferior, in the sense of being captive. ",
"The relationship between Jon and the first steel-blue is that of capturer-victim. The steel-blue manages to break into Jon’s base and captures Jon. After this, Jon uses the steel-blue to understand what the robots are and how they work. They communicate with each other, and Jon doesn’t seem to be afraid of the steel-blue. Jon was very curious about the species, so he didn’t want the robot in order to learn more about them. When Jon escapes from the torture, the same steel-blue captures him again and takes him back. "
] |
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to his boyhood home from Earth—too late for anything. He went outside into the square. A lizard was sunning itself and staring at him with lidless eyes. When he moved across the square, the lizard scurried away. "Earthman!" a quavering voice called. Steve ran toward the sound. In the scant shadow of the community center, a Kumaji was resting. He was a withered old man, all skin and bones and sweat-stiffened tunic, with enormous red-rimmed eyes. His purple skin, which had been blasted by the merciless sun, was almost black. Steve held the canteen to his lips and watched his
time lately? The ocean. He'd seen the ocean. Not a reservoir or lake made by flooding and by damming, but salt water and enormous. An ocean, where there could be no ocean. The Pangborns and Elvertons had been where that ocean was now. And after the Elvertons had come the Dobsons. And after them the new plastics plant. And after that the city of Crossville. And after that.... He was passing his own farm. He hadn't come through town, and yet here he was at his own farm. Could he have forgotten where town was? Could it be north of
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
A wayfarer's return from a far country to his wife and family may be a shining experience, a kind of second honeymoon. Or it may be so shadowed by Time's relentless tyranny that the changes which have occurred in his absence can lead only to tragedy and despair. This rarely discerning, warmly human story by a brilliant newcomer to the science fantasy field is told with no pulling of punches, and its adroit unfolding will astound you. the hoofer by ... Walter M. Miller, Jr. A space rover has no business with a family. But what can a man in
him. The skin between his fingers and toes spread, grew into membranous webs. The swellings in his neck became more pronounced and dark parallel lines appeared. But despite the doctor's pessimistic reports that the changes had not stopped, Barry continued to tell himself he was recovering. He had to believe and keep on believing to retain sanity in the face of the weird, unclassifiable feelings that surged through his body. Still he was subject to fits of almost suicidal depression, and Dorothy's failure to visit him did not help his mental condition. Then one day he woke from a nap
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Describe John Smith and his instrument.
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Holes and John Smith by Edward W. Ludwig.
Relevant chunks:
each other up. My bones ache. My joints creak. I can't coordinate I'm so hungry." "That is the hemlock," Steel-Blue said. It was when he quaffed the new and stronger draught that Jon knew that his hope that it was citric acid was squelched. The acid taste was weaker which meant that the citric acid was the diluting liquid. It was the liquid he couldn't taste beneath the tang of the citric acid that was the corrosive acid. On the fourteenth day, Jon was so weak he didn't feel much like moving around. He let the cylinder feed him the
say, died." "No," Jon Karyl said. "I didn't die. I was just plain dead-beat so I went to sleep." The Steel-Blues apparently didn't understand. "Good it is that you live. The torture will continue," spoke No. 1 before loping away. The cylinder business began again. This time, Jon drank the bitter liquid slowly, trying to figure out what it was. It had a familiar, tantalizing taste but he couldn't quite put a taste-finger on it. His belly said he was hungry. He glanced at his chronometer. Only 20 days left before the SP ship arrived. Would this torture—he chuckled—last until
she guiltily told herself, and it was his tremendous vitality.... It was like meeting a movie hero in the flesh, or a hero out of the pages of a book—Deer-slayer, John Clayton, Lord Greystoke. She waited in the doorway to the laboratory and made no move to join them, merely acknowledged the two with a nod and a smile and a casual lift of the hand. They nodded and smiled back. "Hello, June," said Pat and continued telling his tale, but as they passed he lightly touched her arm. "Oh, pioneer!" she said mockingly and softly to his passing profile,
the adjustable eye-piece of a spacescope, was appearing in the center of the cylinder. A square, glass-like tumbler sat in the opening disclosed in the four-foot cylinder that had sprouted tentacles. It contained a yellowish liquid. One of the tentacles reached into the opening and clasped the glass. The opening closed and the cylinder, propelled by locomotor appendages, moved toward Jon. He didn't like the looks of the liquid in the tumbler. It looked like an acid of some sort. He raised to his feet. He unsheathed the stubray gun and prepared to blast the cylinder. The cylinder moved so
fur street. Two men held his arms, and twisted painfully. The crowd looked at him, coldly, calculatingly. One of them said, "Get the whips. If we whip him he will not come back." The city twinkled, and the music was so faint he could hardly hear it. There was only one weapon Eric could use. He had gathered from Garve's words that these people were superstitious. He laughed, a great chest-shattering laugh that gusted out into the thin Martian air. He laughed and cried in a great voice, "And can you so easily dispose of a Legend? If I am
Question:
Describe John Smith and his instrument.
Answer:
|
[
"John Smith is a human from Earth that is described as a very shot guy with a broad face and light blue eyes. He works with the Marsport union. When he enters the Space Room establishment, he is dressed in a tight black suit and is carrying his instrument, the Zloomph. John states that the Zloomph that he carries is an instrument that is over five thousand years old. He excitedly states that he found it in a pawn shop and that it’s the only one in existence. \n\nThe Zloomph itself is described as being incredibly large, and very black. The tones that emitted from it were jazz-like and received well by the band, the audience, and The Goon. \n",
"John’s instrument is large, black, and old. It is taller and wider than a normal bass fiddle. It’s shape is odd, looking like a black hour-glass. It has black, mirror-like wood. The music coming out of this instrument is beautiful. It is heavenly with depth, volume and richness. John calls it a Zloomph and mentions its uniqueness. John Smith is a little man, he is described as a matchstick. His face is flat and broad. He has sandcolored hair that is quite messy, long and dry. His blue eyes are watery. He wears a black color tightfitting suit. He is between twenty and forty. He speaks quickly. He does not like Venusian fizz and wine-syrup, but enjoys beer. He has a dreamy expression when playing music on his instrument. John is always noticing holes that seems common to everyone else. He does not care much about playing music, instead he likes to study ancient history and he needs to finish his plan, which is finding the correct hole. Because he needs to go back to his world to prove a theory. ",
"John Smith is a bass fiddle, he is huge and looks like a monster, he looks disgusting. His instrument is over five thousand years, it's a Zloomph with a matchstick as old. The man has pale blue eyes and his age is indeterminable. He is silent almost all the time, but he loves beer, and it makes him talk. He mostly talks about the holes, as he is desperately seeking for the trans-dimensional one to get back to his time dimension. All the time he makes plans about it, also he is interested in history and proving theories about it. He is a great player, who makes everyone around listen with admiration and full attention, but music isn't his main passion. ",
"John Smith is physically described as a little guy similar to an animated matchstick. He has a flat, broad face that seems to have been compressed in a vice. His mop of hair is sand-colored, and Jimmie is reminded of a field of dry grass with strands that form loops to the side of his face. He also has pale, watery blue eyes and wears a tight-fitting black suit. Jimmie says it is impossible to guess his age as he could be anywhere between twenty and forty. When John speaks, it is shrill and rapid. However, when he talks about the holes and his ancient history theories, he becomes much more enthusiastic and lights up. Other than those times, he is quite silent and has sad eyes. The others find him eccentric, but they want to keep him around because of his bass-playing abilities. His instrument is called a Zloomph. It is an enormous black monstrosity, and Jimmie thinks it came from a pawnbroker’s attic. It is a queerly-shaped bass fiddle. It is also too tall and too wide. John says the Zloomph is over five thousand years old and is the only one in existence. It can play any song, and the sound that comes out of it is the whole chord instead of just a single note. When Jimmie listens to it, he feels his blood tingling with each plucked note. "
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each other up. My bones ache. My joints creak. I can't coordinate I'm so hungry." "That is the hemlock," Steel-Blue said. It was when he quaffed the new and stronger draught that Jon knew that his hope that it was citric acid was squelched. The acid taste was weaker which meant that the citric acid was the diluting liquid. It was the liquid he couldn't taste beneath the tang of the citric acid that was the corrosive acid. On the fourteenth day, Jon was so weak he didn't feel much like moving around. He let the cylinder feed him the
say, died." "No," Jon Karyl said. "I didn't die. I was just plain dead-beat so I went to sleep." The Steel-Blues apparently didn't understand. "Good it is that you live. The torture will continue," spoke No. 1 before loping away. The cylinder business began again. This time, Jon drank the bitter liquid slowly, trying to figure out what it was. It had a familiar, tantalizing taste but he couldn't quite put a taste-finger on it. His belly said he was hungry. He glanced at his chronometer. Only 20 days left before the SP ship arrived. Would this torture—he chuckled—last until
she guiltily told herself, and it was his tremendous vitality.... It was like meeting a movie hero in the flesh, or a hero out of the pages of a book—Deer-slayer, John Clayton, Lord Greystoke. She waited in the doorway to the laboratory and made no move to join them, merely acknowledged the two with a nod and a smile and a casual lift of the hand. They nodded and smiled back. "Hello, June," said Pat and continued telling his tale, but as they passed he lightly touched her arm. "Oh, pioneer!" she said mockingly and softly to his passing profile,
the adjustable eye-piece of a spacescope, was appearing in the center of the cylinder. A square, glass-like tumbler sat in the opening disclosed in the four-foot cylinder that had sprouted tentacles. It contained a yellowish liquid. One of the tentacles reached into the opening and clasped the glass. The opening closed and the cylinder, propelled by locomotor appendages, moved toward Jon. He didn't like the looks of the liquid in the tumbler. It looked like an acid of some sort. He raised to his feet. He unsheathed the stubray gun and prepared to blast the cylinder. The cylinder moved so
fur street. Two men held his arms, and twisted painfully. The crowd looked at him, coldly, calculatingly. One of them said, "Get the whips. If we whip him he will not come back." The city twinkled, and the music was so faint he could hardly hear it. There was only one weapon Eric could use. He had gathered from Garve's words that these people were superstitious. He laughed, a great chest-shattering laugh that gusted out into the thin Martian air. He laughed and cried in a great voice, "And can you so easily dispose of a Legend? If I am
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What is the plot of the story?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Soldier Boy by Michael Shaara.
Relevant chunks:
explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
forty years ago or more. Resembled one? It was one! Unquestionably, though half-invisible and like a piece of glass immersed in water, it was a rocket ship. But the instruments on the control board could not lie. The presence of any material body within a hundred thousand miles would be revealed. But the needle on the gauge did not quiver. Nothing indicated the presence of a ship. But the evidence of his eyes was incontestable. Or was it? Doubt gripped him. Did the loneliness of all these years in space twist his mind till he was imagining the appearance of
"Get somebody—maybe even the President—on all radio and TV networks. Explain frankly about the four-centers and warn against licking any stamps. Then—" He broke off as his phone rang. Answering, he listened for a moment, then hung up and said, "But before the big announcement, get somebody checking on the security clearances at whatever plant it is where they print stamps. This's a big deal. Somebody may've been planted years ago for this operation. It shouldn't be too hard. "But there's no evidence it was a plot yet. Could be pure accident—some chemical in the stickum spoiled. Do they keep
deathly ill, but nobody dying. And doctors can't identify the poison until they have a fatality for an autopsy. People stricken in every part of the country, but the water systems are pure. How does it spread?" "In food?" "How? There must be hundreds of canneries and dairies and packing plants over the country. How could they all goof at the same time—even if it was sabotage?" "On the wind?" "But who could accurately predict every wind over the entire country—even Alaska and Hawaii—without hitting Canada or Mexico? And why wouldn't everybody get it in a given area?" Bettijean's smooth
Question:
What is the plot of the story?
Answer:
|
[
"An army ship lands near a settlement, and people look out their windows, grumbling about its presence because they want no contact with the army. A soldier disembarks and stands at attention facing the settlement, and the people assume he must be proud, ornery, or drunk. Eventually, a resident named Bob Rossel goes out to see what the soldier wants. The soldier identifies himself as Captain Dylan, explaining that he has a message from Fleet Headquarters for the person in charge. Rossel takes the envelope since they don’t have anyone in charge. A young man inside the ship tosses Dylan a bottle, asks if he can leave, and tells him he’ll be back that night. Rossel is appalled that the younger soldier appears drunk and throws Dylan a bottle of liquor. Dylan tells Rossel to read the message because they don’t have much time and starts walking toward the settlement as the ship takes off.\n\tMan’s first contact with aliens had occurred at the Lupus V Colony in 2360, which aliens destroyed. When the army came to investigate, it found 31 of the 70 colonists dead, with the rest, including women and children, missing. Buildings had burned, and all technical equipment was missing. The security bomb, one of which was planted in each colony to be detonated in such an emergency, had failed to go off—the detonating wire had been dug up where it was buried 12 inches deep and cut. Because there had been 500 years of peace and people were conditioned to be anti-war, the army was small and lacked respect. So the army couldn’t take the time to find out exactly what had happened but just spread the news to other colonies, most of which evacuated before they were attacked.\n\tThe message Dylan delivers is that the aliens are attacking again; this settlement needs to evacuate. A big gloomy man named Rush demands help from the army fleet, but Dylan informs him that the army is too weak to help. Dylan tells them that Lt. Bossio is warning Planet Three and returning that night to pick him up. Everyone must be gone by then. Dylan digs up the detonator wire and finds it has been cut. Rossel tells him their ship will only hold 60 of their 40 colonists and asks Dylan to take the rest on the army ship. Dylan offers to ask Bossio and then shows Rossel the cut wire. They discuss whether a colonist or an animal could have cut it. Dylan splices the wire as Rossel leaves.\n\tMeanwhile, an alien is hiding nearby, watching the humans prepare to leave. He presses a button that disables their ship. Rossel has been trying to reach Planet Three and can’t get an answer; Dylan realizes the colony there is dead, so Bossio is, too. People strip their clothes to reduce their weight and take on more people. Forty-six are able to board. When the ship tries to lift off, it can’t get off the ground.\n\t\n",
"Captain Dylan arrives on this newly pioneered planet--only 100 years at that point--to tell the colonists there that they were in grave danger. After hundreds of years of peace and a practically obsolete army, an alien life form was attacking. He emerges from his small ship, flown by his best friend Lieutenant Bossio, and waits in the cold. Finally, Bob Rossel meets him and hears his message. Fleet Headquarters sent Captain Dylan to hand off the letter informing them that Lupus V had been massacred. In 2360, 31 of the 70 colonists died, while the rest were captured. All of their belongings were taken too, and that which remained was burned. After the army arrived, one soldier discovered that the detonator wire was cut. On each planet, there is a bomb placed in the center. So if any aliens were to attack, the colonists could detonate to prevent human secrets from escaping. Only this time, they couldn’t, because the wire was cut. \nSince then, Captain Dylan had evacuated several cities and colonies. With his bottle of booze, Dylan informs the whole colony about the situation at hand and the need to evacuate. They protest at first and call him “soldier boy,” but after he tells them their sister colony, Planet Three, is also being evacuated, they run to pack their things. They are to leave by nightfall. Dylan digs into the ground in search of the detonator but finds the wire cleanly cut. Rossel returns to ask how many his ship can take, since their ship can only take 40, leaving 20 behind. Dylan knows that his ship can only take 10, so they decide to call Planet Three and ask if they have room. \nThey discuss the cut wire and who or what could have done it. Rossel leaves to ask if any of the colonists cut it and ask them to arm themselves in case of battle. After considering telepathy, Dylan leaves and walks out into the snowfall to try and contact Bossio who had yet to reply. A young woman asks him if he wants sentries posted on behalf of her father, and he follows her back to the group. Mr. Rush, her father, is a strong, wise man, and he tries to uncover who cut the wire. Although there is an animal on this planet, the viggle, it was already cleared. Eight sentries rushed out, and the Alien watched them from inside of the tree. Realizing that the humans knew they were in danger, the Alien changed his plans and disabled their ship. Planet Three was already under attack, so the Alien only had to wait till dusk to absorb.\nPlanet Three did not respond to Rossel’s calls, he knew something was off. Dylan realizes he’ll have to stay behind since Bossio was not coming back. The colonists strip and manage to squeeze an extra six people on the ship, thanks to the lessened weight. Rossel stays behind as well. However, the ship doesn’t take off. \n",
"On a distant planet from Earth, Bob Rossel gets out of his warm bed on a cold night to greet a soldier (Captain Dylan) standing in a nearby field after landing his spaceship there. Captain Dylan was there to deliver a message from Fleet Headquarters to the person in charge of the colony of about 60 people, of which Bob claimed there was no one in charge so it might as well be him. The general consensus of the colonists is that peace must be achieved at all costs, and the Fleet army was counterproductive to achieving peace. So, it was quite a stir that a Fleet soldier would show up unexpectedly to deliver a message. The spaceship left with Lieutenant Bossio at the helm, promising to pick the Captain up later.\nThe Captain’s message was that aliens had attacked another colony on Lupus V, killing about half of seventy colonists with the rest missing. All colonies were required to have bombs installed in a central building that would obliterate all the people there should aliens attack them to prevent aliens from gaining any knowledge of human technology or biology. At this colony, the wire from the detonator to the bomb was cut, inexplicably.\nThe Captain quickly hustles the colony on Bob’s planet to evacuate, and they ready a ship that is capable of holding 40 people. It is somber for the 60 people there because not everyone will escape. Only the children, women, and youngest men are going to be loaded. Others in the colony begin pitching in and asking the Captain how to help, like Mr. Rush, who inquires about organizing sentries to post at their perimeter. During all of this, the Captain digs up the underground wire from the detonator to the bomb of this colony and finds it has also been cut very recently and reburied.\nThere is speculation as to who cut this wire, with the Captain thinking it must have been an alien and Bob thinking it must have been a colonist. There is an aside in the story, describing the culprit which is an alien hiding underground amongst the roots of a nearby tree and commanding the alien attack remotely. The alien moves up the attack from nightfall to dusk after seeing how quickly the colonists are mobilizing to escape. \nThe Captain is unable to check in with Lieutenant Bossio, who had gone to planet Three to evacuate the colonists there. It is already nightfall on planet Three, and the alien attack has most likely already killed Bossio. At the close of the story, the colonists have a tear-filled departure loading their ship. The Captain feels kinship with Bob, who is saying goodbye to his wife for the last time as she boards. The people aboard the ship leave their clothes behind to reduce weight - fitting 46 people on a ship that should have only held 40. As the ship doors close and it goes to take off, it is unable to move off the ground.\n",
"Captain Jim Dylan arrives in an army ship at an unnamed colony in the midst of winter to warn the colonists of an impending attack by an alien species. Due to hundreds of years of anti-war conditioning, the army has had little to do and their resources have dwindled, so Dylan has spent the last thirty years of his life doing little else other than drinking, getting into trouble, and studying a little bit about military tactics. The colonists are not pleased with his arrival, and Dylan sends his fellow armyman Lieutenant Bossio to nearby Planet Three to begin the process of clearing their colony as well. A man named Rossel leads Dylan into town, where he relays the story of Lupus V and its decimation by alien attackers to a group of colonists. The aliens had killed half the population of Lupus V with a heat ray and the rest of the colonists had gone missing. Prior to the attack, a wire meant to detonate a bomb buried at the center of the colony in case of alien attack had been dug up and cut inexplicably. As a result, the army had been deployed to travel to each remaining colony to warn them. The colonists demand army protection, but Dylan informs them that the army fleet is too under-resourced and short-staffed to do anything other than warn of the attacks. As Dylan goes to investigate the state of the wire buried in this colony, he recalls joining the army back when people admired soldiers and how over time that admiration morphed into disgust because of anti-war conditioning. When he discovers the wire has also been cut, Dylan goes back to the radio shack. Rossel finds him there and they discuss how many people they can fit between the colonists' ship and the army ship. Because of insufficient space, they have to come up with a plan to fit the rest of the colonists. Meanwhile, Rossel asks about the cut wire, and he wonders if one of his people might have cut it out of spite for the government rules. Dylan wonders if it might be animals, or perhaps the aliens using telepathy. With Bossio still not answering his calls, Dylan meets with Rossel and a colonist named Rush, who provides Dylan with sentries and agrees with his theory that aliens are responsible for the cut wires. Meanwhile, an alien observes the action from a control center located underground; this is where he uses a box to schedule the attack on the village and disable the colonists' ship. When Planet Three doesn’t answer, Dylan realizes Bossio must be dead. He returns to the radio shack alone, but an old woman brings him coffee and a mackinaw to keep him warm. This encourages him to go outside to help with the evacuation. When Dylan sees Rossel saying goodbye to his wife, he feels human connection again. Then he sees that the colonists' ship cannot fly."
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explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
forty years ago or more. Resembled one? It was one! Unquestionably, though half-invisible and like a piece of glass immersed in water, it was a rocket ship. But the instruments on the control board could not lie. The presence of any material body within a hundred thousand miles would be revealed. But the needle on the gauge did not quiver. Nothing indicated the presence of a ship. But the evidence of his eyes was incontestable. Or was it? Doubt gripped him. Did the loneliness of all these years in space twist his mind till he was imagining the appearance of
"Get somebody—maybe even the President—on all radio and TV networks. Explain frankly about the four-centers and warn against licking any stamps. Then—" He broke off as his phone rang. Answering, he listened for a moment, then hung up and said, "But before the big announcement, get somebody checking on the security clearances at whatever plant it is where they print stamps. This's a big deal. Somebody may've been planted years ago for this operation. It shouldn't be too hard. "But there's no evidence it was a plot yet. Could be pure accident—some chemical in the stickum spoiled. Do they keep
deathly ill, but nobody dying. And doctors can't identify the poison until they have a fatality for an autopsy. People stricken in every part of the country, but the water systems are pure. How does it spread?" "In food?" "How? There must be hundreds of canneries and dairies and packing plants over the country. How could they all goof at the same time—even if it was sabotage?" "On the wind?" "But who could accurately predict every wind over the entire country—even Alaska and Hawaii—without hitting Canada or Mexico? And why wouldn't everybody get it in a given area?" Bettijean's smooth
|
What is the significance of the Misty Ones in the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Raiders of the Second Moon by Basil Wells.
Relevant chunks:
the trilogy. You don't get any thing for nothing. So add this: Cost. Or you might call it pain, sorrow, agony. Call it what you like. It's what you pay for great treasure.... These things were true when fabled Jason sailed the Argo beyond Colchis seeking the Fleece. They were true when men sailed the southern oceans in wooden ships. And the conquest of space hasn't changed us a bit. We're still a greedy lot.... I'm a queer one to be saying these things, but then, who has more right? Look at me. My hair is gray and my face
strands in the dark tide that bore it. Everything was pain-bright or dead black, and it wheeled around you, and you went nuts trying to figure which way was down. In fact, it took you months to teach your body that all ways were down and that the pit was bottomless. He became conscious of a plaintive sound in the wind, and froze to listen. It was a baby crying. It was nearly a minute before he got the significance of it. It hit him where he lived, and he began jerking frantically at his encased feet and sobbing low
stinging forehead on his arms, cursing softly and crying. Finally he rolled over, pulled his foot out of the mess, and took off his shoes. They were full of mud—sticky sandy mud. The dark world was reeling about him, and the wind was dragging at his breath. He fell back against the sand pile and let his feet sink in the mud hole and wriggled his toes. He was laughing soundlessly, and his face was wet in the wind. He couldn't think. He couldn't remember where he was and why, and he stopped caring, and after a while he felt
explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
time lately? The ocean. He'd seen the ocean. Not a reservoir or lake made by flooding and by damming, but salt water and enormous. An ocean, where there could be no ocean. The Pangborns and Elvertons had been where that ocean was now. And after the Elvertons had come the Dobsons. And after them the new plastics plant. And after that the city of Crossville. And after that.... He was passing his own farm. He hadn't come through town, and yet here he was at his own farm. Could he have forgotten where town was? Could it be north of
Question:
What is the significance of the Misty Ones in the story?
Answer:
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[
"The Misty Ones are a group of highly feared beings, thought to be supernatural in some way at the beginning of the story because of their ability to remain unseen. Noork, however, is able to catch a glimpse of the bottom of one of their feet from his vantage point high in a tree and begins to pelt the area where he believes they are with fruit. After this, he can see their outlines and that they are wearing robes with hoods, and he ceases to be afraid and attacks with arrows, killing one of the Misty Ones. He disrobes this man, who is described as heavily scarred on his face, having a low forehead, with more hair on his body and less golden skin than other men of Zuran. Once Noork is sure that the Misty Ones are not supernatural, he decides to pursue them in an attempt to rescue Sarna, sister of his friend Gurn, who has been kidnapped by them.\n\nNoork spreads the word to his friend Ud that the Misty Ones are not demons and can be trapped and skinned and lets Ud know of his rescue mission for Sarna. He also tells Rold, an enslaved man on the island of the Misty Ones and the priests of Uzdon (the god who demands sacrifice of young women). Rold decides he will help Noork with his rescue mission in exchange for Noork's promise to rescue him as well--realizing that he is imprisoned by men and not demons has allowed him to dream that he can kill his captors and be free.\n\nWhen Noork fights a priest of Uzdon in order to free Sarna, he learns that the priests not only have the robes of concealment the Misty Ones have, they also have transparent masks that allow them to see through that concealment. It allows him to anticipate their ambush at the end of the story, though not quite soon enough to stop it. Gurn, though, has received his message and acted on it. He has been capturing and \"skinning\" Misty Ones who have crossed the lake and he and his warriors ambush the Misty Ones and priests in return, freeing Noork and his friends. With the realization that the Misty Ones are men with special cloaks rather than demons with supernatural powers, their mystique evaporates and everyone they have terrorized is willing to attack them. Characters unwilling to battle demons are unafraid to attack men.",
"The Misty Ones are significant for several reasons. They are creatures that come from the island in the lake of Uzdon, and they look like mist and are therefore nearly invisible to most (other than the priests). They are thought to be demons and perhaps invincible, but Noork discovers otherwise when he gets close enough to see that they look like him. He passes a message along to Gurn that they can be trapped and skinned. Noork’s discovery of this allows him to rescue Sarna and allows Gurn and the other warriors to rescue them from Doctor Von Mark. \n",
"The Misty Ones are mysterious beings who are invisible and cause problems for others. With so little is known about them other than their devious acts, they are considered demons. They live on an island in the Lake of Uzdon and have a giant skull known as the Temple of the Skull that represents their god, Uzdon, to whom they over living female sacrifices. The Misty Ones wear cloaks that make them invisible, and until Noork shoots and kills one with an arrow, no one knows that they are flesh and bone beings underneath their robes. Noork discovers they look very much like he does but with a low, sloping forehead and more body hair. When the Misty Ones kidnap Tholon, Noork notices he can see a foot of one of them because it was covered with mud. He throws overripe fruit at the group, and the fruit stains their cloaks, enabling Noork to see them. The Misty Ones capture girls to be slave sacrifices to their god, but they also capture men who work for them in their fields and gardens and others who move through the skull all chained together. They are led by priests who also wear cloaks that make them invisible and colorful feathers along with a face shield that enables them to see the other Misty Ones in their cloaks. Once Noork discovers that the Misty Ones are like everyone else, the Misty Ones lose the advantage of the fear they engender in others and risk death at their hands.\n",
"The Misty Ones are a group of people who mostly dwell on the island of Manak. They control a group of slaves on the island and manage the sacrificial rituals for the gods they worship, Uzdon and Lornu. To complete these sacrifices, they habitually capture and imprison young women from around the land of Zura, and they choose the youngest and most beautiful to sacrifice. The Misty Ones inspire fear in the hearts of the Vasads and other peoples of Zura due to their mysterious nature and their ability to move about invisibly. However, their weakness is revealed when Noork discovers they are not completely invisible after all, and their “skin” (an invisibility robe) can be easily removed. Noork has his friend Ud pass this message along to Gurn and his Vasads to encourage them to no longer fear the Misty Ones. This tactic works, and the Vasads show up just in time to save the day."
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the trilogy. You don't get any thing for nothing. So add this: Cost. Or you might call it pain, sorrow, agony. Call it what you like. It's what you pay for great treasure.... These things were true when fabled Jason sailed the Argo beyond Colchis seeking the Fleece. They were true when men sailed the southern oceans in wooden ships. And the conquest of space hasn't changed us a bit. We're still a greedy lot.... I'm a queer one to be saying these things, but then, who has more right? Look at me. My hair is gray and my face
strands in the dark tide that bore it. Everything was pain-bright or dead black, and it wheeled around you, and you went nuts trying to figure which way was down. In fact, it took you months to teach your body that all ways were down and that the pit was bottomless. He became conscious of a plaintive sound in the wind, and froze to listen. It was a baby crying. It was nearly a minute before he got the significance of it. It hit him where he lived, and he began jerking frantically at his encased feet and sobbing low
stinging forehead on his arms, cursing softly and crying. Finally he rolled over, pulled his foot out of the mess, and took off his shoes. They were full of mud—sticky sandy mud. The dark world was reeling about him, and the wind was dragging at his breath. He fell back against the sand pile and let his feet sink in the mud hole and wriggled his toes. He was laughing soundlessly, and his face was wet in the wind. He couldn't think. He couldn't remember where he was and why, and he stopped caring, and after a while he felt
explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
time lately? The ocean. He'd seen the ocean. Not a reservoir or lake made by flooding and by damming, but salt water and enormous. An ocean, where there could be no ocean. The Pangborns and Elvertons had been where that ocean was now. And after the Elvertons had come the Dobsons. And after them the new plastics plant. And after that the city of Crossville. And after that.... He was passing his own farm. He hadn't come through town, and yet here he was at his own farm. Could he have forgotten where town was? Could it be north of
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What is the relationship between Malcolm and Breadon?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Wanderers of the Wolf Moon by NELSON S. BOND.
Relevant chunks:
HOME IS WHERE YOU LEFT IT By ADAM CHASE [Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Amazing Stories February 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] The chance of mass slaughter was their eternal nightmare. How black is the blackest treachery? Is the most callous traitor entitled to mercy? Steve pondered these questions. His decision? That at times the villain should possibly be spoken of as a hero. Only the shells of deserted mud-brick houses greeted Steve Cantwell when he reached the village. He poked around in them for a
He was something out of a nightmare but his music was straight from heaven. He was a ragged little man out of a hole but he was money in the bank to Stanley's four-piece combo. He was —whoops!... The Holes and John Smith By Edward W. Ludwig Illustration by Kelly Freas It all began on a Saturday night at The Space Room . If you've seen any recent Martian travel folders, you know the place: "A picturesque oasis of old Martian charm, situated on the beauteous Grand Canal in the heart of Marsport. Only half a mile from historic Chandler
time lately? The ocean. He'd seen the ocean. Not a reservoir or lake made by flooding and by damming, but salt water and enormous. An ocean, where there could be no ocean. The Pangborns and Elvertons had been where that ocean was now. And after the Elvertons had come the Dobsons. And after them the new plastics plant. And after that the city of Crossville. And after that.... He was passing his own farm. He hadn't come through town, and yet here he was at his own farm. Could he have forgotten where town was? Could it be north of
Campbell. Take my word for it, he's a friend." "I didn't say anything, sir." "Good. Don't. Just get ready." "We're going to go out —?" "Yes," I said. "Orders." "And meet both of them?" Split was at the telescope. "Both?" I took the instrument from him. Both! "Well!" "They seem to be coming out of the ground," Split said. "I see no signs of habitation, but apparently we've landed on top of an underground city—though I hasten to add that this is only an hypothesis." "One's a male and the other's a female," I said. "Another hypothesis," said Split. The
ago? I sensed that my own stream of life had somehow crossed with his in ages gone by. How? Who can ever know? By what faded charts of the movements through the sky will man ever be able to retrace relationships of forms of life among planets? "Get ready to go out and meet him, Campbell," I said. "He's a friend." Split Campbell gave me a look as if to say, Sir, you don't even know what sort of animal he is, actually, much less whether he's friendly or murderous. "There are some things I can sense on first sight,
Question:
What is the relationship between Malcolm and Breadon?
Answer:
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[
"Gregory Malcolm is a secretary to J. Foster Andrews, father of Crystal Andrews, who is promised to Ralph Breadon. Malcolm is attracted to Crystal, and dislikes Breadon’s appearance, though he admires it as well. In the life skiff, Breadon behaves in a domineering manner towards Malcolm, suggesting that he hand over the controls of the skiff. During the transfer of controls, however, Breadon’s sleeve is caught on a switch and causes the skiff to crash towards Titan. During their descent, Malcolm attempts to control their trajectory but is dismissed by Breadon, who successfully lands the skiff on the moon of Saturn. Malcolm quickly congratulates Breadon, but is berated for interfering. Despite this, however, Malcolm later rationalizes Breadon’s arrogant behaviour and maintains to Sparks, the radio engineer, that he holds no grudge against him, seemingly hiding his anger behind his job as a secretary. \n\n",
"Malcolm and Breadon have a tense relationship. Malcolm is enamored of Crystal, and admires her beauty and loveliness. However, Ralph Breadon is Crystal's lover, which sets a competitive tone between the two. Malcolm is jealous of Breadon, not only because of his relationship to Crystal but is also threatened by him and his appearance. Their competitive nature is seen in the story, particularly when Breadon overtakes Malcolm's control of the life skiff; the two bicker and fumble over the control of the aircraft, and the life skiff ends up crashing onto Titan. Malcolm commends Breadon for keeping the members alive, but Breadon blames him for the crash, though it was his own sleeve being caught on the control that caused it. Though Malcolm and Breadon have problems with each other, Malcolm is more obedient and tries to avoid additional conflict. ",
"We learn from the beginning of the story, Crystal, J. Foster Andrews’ daughter, is engaged to Breadon. However, Malcolm seems to like her as well, but there’s nothing he can do. Later when Malcolm is talking about the phenomenon of the vortex, Breadon is the first that realizes what Malcolm is implying with the ionized filed. Then, when Hannigan tells them to board the life-skiff, both of them are able to get on it. Malcolm has the control of the life-skiff at first, but then Breadon asks to take over. Just as he is doing that, his sleeve catches the control key and turns the engine off. The ship begins to lose control, and Breadon grabs everyone’s hand off the control except for his. With his skills and training, finally, he is able to land without injuring anyone. Greg is surprised, since he did not believe they could actually be saved. He complements Breadon “nice work,” but Breadon blames him for crashing the ship. So then Hannigan decides to stand up for Malcolm where he asks Breadon if he know which part of what planet they are on. Breadon stuttered, and then Malcolm simply stated that they are on the northern hemisphere of Titan, one of Saturn’s satellite.",
"Gregory Malcolm is described as tall and neat, wearing a business suit. He is the secretary of J. Foster Andrews. Ralph Breadon is a socialite and sportsman with previous training as a pilot. He is described as a sturdy man with eyes, hair, and skin the color of chestnuts. Crystal, Andrew’s daughter is pledged to Ralph Breadon. Malcolm is attracted and has feelings towards Crystal, the girl that is meant to be with Breadon. Breadon belittles Malcolm throughout the story. Malcolm does not respond with disdain or anger towards Breadon, instead, he remains calm and obedient. He acknowledges that Breadon has some competencies and skills related to piloting. Malcolm eventually proves to the group that he has more knowledge than Breadon when he is able to approximate their location on Titan. "
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63048
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HOME IS WHERE YOU LEFT IT By ADAM CHASE [Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Amazing Stories February 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] The chance of mass slaughter was their eternal nightmare. How black is the blackest treachery? Is the most callous traitor entitled to mercy? Steve pondered these questions. His decision? That at times the villain should possibly be spoken of as a hero. Only the shells of deserted mud-brick houses greeted Steve Cantwell when he reached the village. He poked around in them for a
He was something out of a nightmare but his music was straight from heaven. He was a ragged little man out of a hole but he was money in the bank to Stanley's four-piece combo. He was —whoops!... The Holes and John Smith By Edward W. Ludwig Illustration by Kelly Freas It all began on a Saturday night at The Space Room . If you've seen any recent Martian travel folders, you know the place: "A picturesque oasis of old Martian charm, situated on the beauteous Grand Canal in the heart of Marsport. Only half a mile from historic Chandler
time lately? The ocean. He'd seen the ocean. Not a reservoir or lake made by flooding and by damming, but salt water and enormous. An ocean, where there could be no ocean. The Pangborns and Elvertons had been where that ocean was now. And after the Elvertons had come the Dobsons. And after them the new plastics plant. And after that the city of Crossville. And after that.... He was passing his own farm. He hadn't come through town, and yet here he was at his own farm. Could he have forgotten where town was? Could it be north of
Campbell. Take my word for it, he's a friend." "I didn't say anything, sir." "Good. Don't. Just get ready." "We're going to go out —?" "Yes," I said. "Orders." "And meet both of them?" Split was at the telescope. "Both?" I took the instrument from him. Both! "Well!" "They seem to be coming out of the ground," Split said. "I see no signs of habitation, but apparently we've landed on top of an underground city—though I hasten to add that this is only an hypothesis." "One's a male and the other's a female," I said. "Another hypothesis," said Split. The
ago? I sensed that my own stream of life had somehow crossed with his in ages gone by. How? Who can ever know? By what faded charts of the movements through the sky will man ever be able to retrace relationships of forms of life among planets? "Get ready to go out and meet him, Campbell," I said. "He's a friend." Split Campbell gave me a look as if to say, Sir, you don't even know what sort of animal he is, actually, much less whether he's friendly or murderous. "There are some things I can sense on first sight,
|
What did Garrett do to make the girl believe that he is Star and Star is Garrett?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about DEATH STAR by TOM PACE.
Relevant chunks:
Taine to the shelf. After learning from the librarian that the girl's name was Kay Smith, he went out and got in his hardtop. The name rang a bell. Halfway home he realized why. The typing exercise had contained the word "Cai", and if you pronounced it with hard c, you got "Kai"—or "Kay". Obviously, then, the exercise had been a message, and had been deliberately inserted in a book no average person would dream of borrowing. By whom—her boy friend? Quidley winced. He was allergic to the term. Not that he ever let the presence of a boy friend
library aisle and staring at the indecipherable words, was a normal girl like Kay doing in such a childish secret society? From the way she and her correspondents carried on you'd almost think they were Martian girl scouts on an interplanetary camping trip, trying for their merit badges in communications! You could hardly call Kay a girl scout, though. Nevertheless, she was the key figure in the snoll-doper enigma. The fact annoyed him, especially when he considered that a snoll doper , for all he knew, could be anything from a Chinese fortune cooky to an H-bomb. He remembered Kay's
at Crystal Andrews. There was no fear in her eyes. Just a hotness and an inexplicable anger. Beside her was the other girl, the maid, 'Tina; she was frankly afraid. Her teeth were clenched in her nether lip, and her eyes were wide and anxious, but she did not cry out. Only a miracle could save them now. But Breadon's hands performed that miracle; his quick, nerveless, trained hands. A stud here ... a lever there ... a swift wrenching toss of the shoulders. His face twisted back over his shoulder, and his straining lips pulled taut and bloodless away
at his arm, panting, "The officers?" and his own unfelt assurance. "They can take care of themselves. It's a general 'bandon ship." Enid Andrews stumbling over the hem of a filmy peignoir ... himself bending to lift her boldly and bodily, sweating palms feeling the warm animal heat of her excited body hot beneath them ... Crystal Andrews stopping suddenly, crying, "'Tina!" ... and Hannigan's reply, "Your maid? I woke her. She's in the life-skiff." Bert Andrews stopping suddenly, being sick in the middle of the corridor, his drunkenness losing itself in the thick, sure nausea of the ever-increasing unsteadiness
the librarian's desk. She waited statuesquely while the librarian processed it, then tucked it under her arm and whisked out the door into the misty April night. As soon as she disappeared, Quidley stepped over to the T's and took Taine down once more. Just as he had suspected. The makeshift bookmark was gone. He remembered how the asdf-;lkj exercise had given way to several lines of gibberish and then reappeared again. A camouflaged message? Or was it merely what it appeared to be on the surface—the efforts of an impatient typing student to type before his time? He returned
Question:
What did Garrett do to make the girl believe that he is Star and Star is Garrett?
Answer:
|
[
"Firstly, a month ago, Garrett pretends to be Star and successfully deceived the girl’s father and was communicating with him about his development on some power processes. And according to the girl, she was captured by Garrett and brought to the craft around a month ago. Note that no one knows what he is really hoping to accomplish by pretending to be Star. Secondly, for the past month, he has been using 3-dimensional images and detailed description of Star as Garrett to make the girl believe his made-up identity. This also finishes successfully and the girl was sure that Star was Garrett, Garret as Star. Thirdly, during the execution, Garrett uses the delay in voice from the visual images to make sure that the girl will not be able to hear anything that the Section Void Headquarters would say when they see Garrett murdering Star. But he lets her see the images so that when their faces are filled with surprises to see Star being captured, the visual images will lead the girl to believe that they are shocked because they see Garret. However, this part of the plan failed. The girl is able to read lips, thus from the visuals, she knows exactly what the headquarters are saying. Hence she learns the truth of Garrett and Star’s identity. She also learns that he has been lying to him and her father. ",
"Prior to meeting the girl, Anne Hinton, Devil Garrett, the top space pirate, had contacted Anne’s father Old John Hinton while posing as Starrett Blade. Garrett’s deception of Anne is furthered by his forgery of certain documents, including papers describing Garrett as having Star’s description, and a three-dimensional picture. \nHis deception, however, is foiled during a transmission between the pirate and Police Commander Weddel which was meant to broadcast Star’s execution. During the silent broadcast, Weddel’s mouth moves and Anne is able to read his lips, coming to believe that Star is who he claims to be. \n",
"To make Anne believe that Garrett is Star and Star is Garrett, Garrett communicated with her father, posing as Star and claiming that he was interested in working with him to develop power plants. John Hinton, who supplies Star with much of his equipment, agreed to work with Garrett. Anne has been staying with Garrett for a month, during which he showed her fake papers and photos that supported his lie. Once Anne met Star for the first time, she was under the belief that Garrett was actually Star. Because of this, she immediately thought that Star was lying when he shared his name, and was able to help bring him to Garrett. ",
"Garrett made the girl believe that he was Star and that Star was Garrett because he provided her with papers that he claimed showed a picture of Garrett with a description. The picture was in fact one of Star Blade. In addition, he had his guards pretend that he was Star Blade too. However, unlike the girl, the guards knew that he was actually Garrett. He made the girl fear Star Blade (pretending Star was actually Garrett) by telling the girl that Star was a horrible pirate that killed many people and had to be executed. In addition, the girl’s father communicated with Garrett while he was pretending to be Star. This is another reason she thought she could trust him. "
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Taine to the shelf. After learning from the librarian that the girl's name was Kay Smith, he went out and got in his hardtop. The name rang a bell. Halfway home he realized why. The typing exercise had contained the word "Cai", and if you pronounced it with hard c, you got "Kai"—or "Kay". Obviously, then, the exercise had been a message, and had been deliberately inserted in a book no average person would dream of borrowing. By whom—her boy friend? Quidley winced. He was allergic to the term. Not that he ever let the presence of a boy friend
library aisle and staring at the indecipherable words, was a normal girl like Kay doing in such a childish secret society? From the way she and her correspondents carried on you'd almost think they were Martian girl scouts on an interplanetary camping trip, trying for their merit badges in communications! You could hardly call Kay a girl scout, though. Nevertheless, she was the key figure in the snoll-doper enigma. The fact annoyed him, especially when he considered that a snoll doper , for all he knew, could be anything from a Chinese fortune cooky to an H-bomb. He remembered Kay's
at Crystal Andrews. There was no fear in her eyes. Just a hotness and an inexplicable anger. Beside her was the other girl, the maid, 'Tina; she was frankly afraid. Her teeth were clenched in her nether lip, and her eyes were wide and anxious, but she did not cry out. Only a miracle could save them now. But Breadon's hands performed that miracle; his quick, nerveless, trained hands. A stud here ... a lever there ... a swift wrenching toss of the shoulders. His face twisted back over his shoulder, and his straining lips pulled taut and bloodless away
at his arm, panting, "The officers?" and his own unfelt assurance. "They can take care of themselves. It's a general 'bandon ship." Enid Andrews stumbling over the hem of a filmy peignoir ... himself bending to lift her boldly and bodily, sweating palms feeling the warm animal heat of her excited body hot beneath them ... Crystal Andrews stopping suddenly, crying, "'Tina!" ... and Hannigan's reply, "Your maid? I woke her. She's in the life-skiff." Bert Andrews stopping suddenly, being sick in the middle of the corridor, his drunkenness losing itself in the thick, sure nausea of the ever-increasing unsteadiness
the librarian's desk. She waited statuesquely while the librarian processed it, then tucked it under her arm and whisked out the door into the misty April night. As soon as she disappeared, Quidley stepped over to the T's and took Taine down once more. Just as he had suspected. The makeshift bookmark was gone. He remembered how the asdf-;lkj exercise had given way to several lines of gibberish and then reappeared again. A camouflaged message? Or was it merely what it appeared to be on the surface—the efforts of an impatient typing student to type before his time? He returned
|
What is the plot of the story?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about His Master's Voice by Randall Garrett.
Relevant chunks:
and didn't look at her. "You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock." "I can take it." Suddenly she smiled, wanly. "I was with the Fleet. How long will it take?" "Eight days, in that ship." Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Peterson was harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small ship meant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days in that untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl and Gladney. "Who was that ... man? The one you put out?" Gray
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
asked. "We call him Rat," Roberds said. She didn't ask why. She said: "Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean? What is his record?" Peterson opened his mouth. "Shut up, Peterson!" the Chief snapped. "We don't talk about his record around here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell." "Stow it, Chief," said Peterson. "Miss Gray is no pantywaist." He turned to the nurse. "Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?" Patti Gray paled. "Yes," she whispered. "Was Rat in that?" Roberds shook his head. "He didn't take part in it. But Rat was attached to a very
many days?" His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of those inhuman eyes. She fell face first to the floor. "I can't keep it up!" she cried. The sound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. "I cant! I cant!" A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. "Get up!" Rat stood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. "Get up!" She stared at him, dazed. He kicked her. "Get up!" The tepid water ran off her face and far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Rat was
moving things had unnerved him. He had already sounded the alert, flicked out the defense screens. Now he had nothing to do. He tried to concentrate on what the League Law would have him do. The Law was no help. Contact with planet-bound races was forbidden under any circumstances. But could a bunch of robots be called a race? The Law said nothing about robots because Earthmen had none. The building of imaginative robots was expressly forbidden. But at any rate, Steffens thought, he had made contact already. While Steffens stood by the screen, completely bewildered for the first time
Question:
What is the plot of the story?
Answer:
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[
"The story begins with Daniel Oak going into Ravenhurst’s office to talk with him about another job. Ravenhurst tells Daniel that there is an issue with the robot McGuire because the robot will only listen to Daniel’s commands. This happened because of the way the robot was programmed and Daniel happened to trigger the programming that attaches the robot to whoever the first person was to speak to it. \n\nRavenhurst does not like Daniel’s methods but hires him anyways to fix the situation. Daniel believes that he is hired because Ravenhurst is afraid of losing his manager position. Ravenhurst hires and sends Daniel to the planet Ceres to work with the roboticists at Viking. Daniel puts on his vacuum suit and boards a flitterboat to Ceres. The reader learns that Daniel is a double agent as he actually works for the UN government’s Secret Service agency, also known as the Political Survey Division.\n\nDaniel is sent to Ceres to help with the robot McGuire. When he arrives at Ceres he is met by Colonel Harrington Brock. He goes to have a drink with Colonel Brock and they create a separate plan from Ravenhurst and team up to implement their own solution to the McGuire problem. \n",
"Daniel Oak enters the office of Shalimar Ravenhurst, the manager of the Viking Spacecraft company whom he describes as an intelligent but unlikeable man, on the planetoid Raven’s Rest. Ravenhurst offers Daniel a glass of wine, and reminds him that he has caused him trouble in the past. He reminds Daniel that the MGYR-7, an advanced robot spaceship operating system capable of understanding and speaking English nicknamed the McGuire, considers only Daniel as its master, rendering it uncooperative. Because of the McGuire self-preservation directive, it doesn’t allow this obedience to be erased. The most efficient path forward, Ravenhurt concludes, is to build the eighth iteration of MGYR, and he hires Daniel to expedite the process. \nDaniel leaves Raven’s Rest and travels in his flitterboat to the planetoid Ceres, a large asteroid with weak a gravitational force conducive to manufacturing mainly owned by Viking, and from which it operates. Daniel is an expediter, a job which involves speeding up projects for companies who hire him. We also learn that Daniel is a member of the Political Survey Division of the UN Government, which is interested in the McGuire project. However, it is not because of its sophistication and complexity, which is similar to that of a traffic pattern control robot, that Daniel has been tasked with gathering information about the McGuire, but rather its language-processing abilities.\nDaniel describes Asimov’s three laws of the robotic brain, which in summary direct the machine to obey human beings. However, because of the difficulty in defining a human being, the first six iterations of the McGuire have failed when conflicting directions are given. Only in the seventh iteration, when the McGuire is directed to regard only the person to first give it instructions as its commander, does the machine achieve any success. \nLanding on Ceres, Daniel is greeted by Colonel Harrington Brock, the head of Ravenhurst’s Security Guard who is dressed in a black-and-gold skin tight suit. Brock invites Daniel for a drink, which he accepts. Brock tells Daniel, who feigns ignorance about the subject, about two competing companies, Thurston and Baedecker Metals & Mining, who aim to sabotage Viking in order to assume control of Ceres. Despite having been asked by Ravenhurst, who disapproves of Daniel’s methods, not to involve Daniel on the project, Brock asks for Daniel’s help on this matter of corporate espionage. Though he refuses being employed by Brock, citing conflicts of interest, he agrees to enter into a cooperative relationship and to help out. \n",
"Daniel Oak, a \"Confidential Expediter\" and agent of the Political Survey Division, is called into the office of Shalimar Ravenhurst, owner of Viking Spacecraft. Work is being done to create a new version of a complex robot, called McGuire, who has been sabotaged in its past six attempts. Daniel has been hired to get down to the issue and prevent further sabotage to the seventh model. Upon entering Ravenhurst's office, Daniel is reprimanded as he is told he caused the sabotage of McGuire. McGuire operates to avoid issues by only following the orders of one individual, that person being the first to speak to him; this person ended up being Daniel. Because of this, Ravenhurst tells Daniel that he must go to Ceres, where McGuire is being built, and aid Viking in building a new model. Daniel heads to Ceres in his flitterboat, where he meets Colonel Brock. Brock tells Daniel that a competing business, Baedecker Metals & Mining Corporation, is trying to drive Viking out of business and overtake Ceres and its resources by causing issues and potential sabotages. However, Brock and Daniel are both aware that it was Ravenhurst's daughter, Jack, that has been causing sabotage, which is kept under wraps. Brock then attempts to hire Daniel to help him with the situation, to which Daniel denies, saying that he cannot conflict with Ravenhurst's contract. Daniel then proposes that they instead work alongside each other, and help each other through services and tasks rather than money, and Brock agrees.",
"The story starts with Daniel Oak, a double agent, in Shalimar Raverhurst’s office, and it was the third time that he is on this mountain-sized planetoid. Raverhurst first poured Oak a glass of Madeira. Then he told Oak that he has caused quite a lot of trouble for him. We learn that there is a robot, called McGuire, that has been sabotaged by Oak while he is hired to prevent those kind of things. Because it is kind of difficult to define human being for the robots, thus McGuire is implemented to follow the order of the first person that it speaks to after activation; and apparently, that person is Oak. Then we learn that Oak is a double agent, and he pretends to not know much about this issue at all. So Raverhurst goes on telling Oak why they cannot undo this sabotage: it’s costly thus not worthwhile, and McGuire does not allow others to change his processes. \n\nThen Raverhurst tells Oak that he will be going to Ceres to help build MGYR-8. So then Oak goes into his flitterboat and is going to Ceres. Then we learn from Oak that McGuire is different from other robots such as a traffic robot. Firstly McGuire is mobile in the sense that he is the spacecraft. His spaceship travels very quickly and there is no set paths for the robot to choose from, there is the whole universe. Moreover, he has to deal with unforeseen emergencies as well as with humans. Thus McGuire needs to be able to understand English and can communicate with humans. The most difficult part is defining “human being,” thus McGuire is set to takes order from one individual. \n\nAfter Oak arrives in Ceres, Colonel Harrington Brock, who is the security guard of Ravenhurst, was waiting for him. Instead of going back for a bath and sleep, Brock asks him to have a drink together. At O’Banion’s Bar Brock asks for Oak’s help, while Oak refuses to help, he suggests that they work together in co-operation."
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48513
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and didn't look at her. "You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock." "I can take it." Suddenly she smiled, wanly. "I was with the Fleet. How long will it take?" "Eight days, in that ship." Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Peterson was harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small ship meant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days in that untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl and Gladney. "Who was that ... man? The one you put out?" Gray
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
asked. "We call him Rat," Roberds said. She didn't ask why. She said: "Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean? What is his record?" Peterson opened his mouth. "Shut up, Peterson!" the Chief snapped. "We don't talk about his record around here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell." "Stow it, Chief," said Peterson. "Miss Gray is no pantywaist." He turned to the nurse. "Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?" Patti Gray paled. "Yes," she whispered. "Was Rat in that?" Roberds shook his head. "He didn't take part in it. But Rat was attached to a very
many days?" His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of those inhuman eyes. She fell face first to the floor. "I can't keep it up!" she cried. The sound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. "I cant! I cant!" A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. "Get up!" Rat stood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. "Get up!" She stared at him, dazed. He kicked her. "Get up!" The tepid water ran off her face and far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Rat was
moving things had unnerved him. He had already sounded the alert, flicked out the defense screens. Now he had nothing to do. He tried to concentrate on what the League Law would have him do. The Law was no help. Contact with planet-bound races was forbidden under any circumstances. But could a bunch of robots be called a race? The Law said nothing about robots because Earthmen had none. The building of imaginative robots was expressly forbidden. But at any rate, Steffens thought, he had made contact already. While Steffens stood by the screen, completely bewildered for the first time
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What is the plot of the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Aide Memoire by Keith Laumer.
Relevant chunks:
of futile sons? What can I do to save myself from dying eight days from now? Is there escape? His eyes widened, another image came to focus. Beyond this valley of cliffs, on a low mountain lay a perfect, unscarred metal seed. A metal ship, not rusted or touched by the avalanches. The ship was deserted, whole, intact. It was the only ship of all these that had crashed that was still a unit, still usable. But it was so far away. There was no one in it to help. This ship, then, on the far mountain, was the destiny
What is POSAT? By PHYLLIS STERLING SMITH Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Of course coming events cast their shadows before, but this shadow was 400 years long! The following advertisement appeared in the July 1953 issue of several magazines: MASTERY OF ALL KNOWLEDGE CAN BE YOURS! What is the secret source of those profound principles that can solve the problems of life? Send for our FREE booklet of explanation. Do not be a
mission that huge and depressing in eight short, vanishing days? How had his people gotten into such a condition? As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown across space from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashing on this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women. When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffs from the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of the huge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upon a forge. Solar radiations drenched them.
10:30." The following evening found Quidley on tenter-hooks. The snoll-doper mystery had acquired a new tang. He could hardly wait till the next message transfer took place. He decided to spend the evening plotting the epic novel which he intended to write someday. He set to work immediately. He plotted mentally, of course—notes were for the hacks and the other commercial non-geniuses who infested the modern literary world. Closing his eyes, he saw the whole vivid panorama of epic action and grand adventure flowing like a mighty and majestic river before his literary vision: the authentic and awe-inspiring background; the
the corner he halted. The street lights had not yet come on. The street was dim. Everything was vague. He looked around—and froze. From the telephone pole in front of the police station, something large and shapeless hung. It moved a little with the wind. What the hell was it? Mason approached it warily. He wanted to get home. He was tired and hungry. He thought of his wife, his kids, a hot meal on the dinner table. But there was something about the dark bundle, something ominous and ugly. The light was bad; he couldn't tell what it was.
Question:
What is the plot of the story?
Answer:
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[
"As the story opens, Ambassador Magnan briefs Councillor Retief on the Terrestrial Embassy’s request for sponsorship of youth groups on the planet Fust. Councillor Retief is not interested. Magnan specifically suggests that Retief sponsor the group SCARS (Sexual, Cultural and Athletic Recreational Society), and warns Retief that the rival Groaci may fill any void. Retief suggests researching the youth groups before giving them money. Magnan is dismissive. Retief is still not interested, and leaves to go look at plans for a new passenger liner being built by the Fustians. \nRetief takes a flat-car to the ship yard and meets Whonk, who is a shipyard clerk. He asks to see the blueprints, which he photographs. He and Whonk chat about the attitude of the youth, and Whonk blames it on their new leader, Slock, who hangs around with Yith, a member of the Groaci embassy.\nLater, while Retief is on his way home to dress for a dinner and press event organized by Magnan, two Fustian youths threaten him on the bus. Retief realizes that they were after his photos, which showed that the ship under construction was a battle cruiser, not a passenger liner. He also realizes that Whonk may be in danger. Retief escapes the youths and races back to the shipyard to find that Whonk has been dragged off and tied up in a warehouse. From the Fustian’s wounds, Retief realized that they had tried to kill him.\nRetief figures out that the Fustian youths have taken some titanite, an explosive, over to a ship called the Moss Rock, which would be full of dignitaries later. He and Whonk race over there and encounter more Fustians, and win a fight with them, effectively breaking up the Groaci-backed plot to blow up the ship. \nRetief arrives at the banquet a little late, and exchanges a few words with Magnan, who proceeds to make the Fustians miserable with his cultural insensitivity. A few minutes later, the SCARS leader, Slock, arrives. Retief reveals Slock’s plan: Slock, backed by the Groaci, was planning to take over Fust. The Groaci tried to frame the Terrestrial Embassy for the plot.\nSlock escaped. Retief went back toward the Moss Rock, where Whonk tackled Slock, and Retief accosted Yith. Whonk wanted to take revenge on Yith for attacking him earlier, but Retief instead negotiated a deal in which Yith, who had mastered removing the Fustian carapace surgically, which would be a great relief to Whonk and other elders, would agree to do so in return for not being ritually dismembered. Just as this agreement was completed, Slock tried to escape again, but Whonk dumped him on the Moss Rock, and set the autopilot for Groaci, still full of titanite. It blew up on the way there.\nMagnan wrested what he could, diplomatically speaking, from the wreckage of the youth sponsorship program and moved on to plans to sponsor Senior Citizens Groups.\n",
"This story follows Retief, a Terrestrial diplomat working on the surface of the Fustian planet, where these two species co-exist with the Groaci. At the start of the story, Retief is talking to the Terrestrial Ambassador about a new program that the Fustians are looking for sponsorship for, that the Ambassador wants Retief to take care of. Retief, the Councillor, does not seem interested, and heads out to the shipyards to ask the people there some questions about a new ship being built. An older Fustian named Whonk allows him to see the plans for the ship and tells Retief about Slock, one of the local leaders of the Youths that seems to be a bad influence. These troublesome characters showed up to talk to Whonk and scare Retief off of the docks as Retief slips out unnoticed. He finds plans in the Embassy's library for an old battle cruiser that match the plans for the new ship, pointing him towards a plot to re-introduce weapons into the society. He finds Whonk, injured from the others' attempt to extract information from him, and the two of them piece together the clues: there was titanite, a dangerous explosive, that is going to be placed on the fanciest boat at the docks, the Moss Rock. When they get to that ship to take a look, they find a variety of items emblazoned with the logo of SCARS, the Youth Group that Ambassador Magnan wanted Retief to sponsor at the beginning. Retief figures that these items are here as planted false evidence, so that the explosion would be pinned on the Youth Group, and thus the Terrestrials by extension. Retief's goal is to destroy this plot--Whonk captures a Fustian who they realize has had his shell surgically removed, something that they thought impossible. Retief takes this to mean that the Groaci have more medical knowledge than they realized, and that they are responsible for this plot. In order to expose this plan, he heads to the banquet where the sponsorship of the Youth Group is being announced. He interrupts the Ambassador's grand announcement, exposing the plot to the press that was already gathered there. He knew Slock to be a gang leader, told everyone of the plan to blow up the Moss Rock and his deal with the Groaci, and then runs toward the boat with Whonk and the Ambassador. Whonk wanted to follow through with his society's classic ceremonial revenge against Yith, the Groaci at the ship, but Retief convinces them to have a sort of trade: Yith would share the medical knowledge to remove Whonk's heavy outer shell so that it would no longer be a nuisance and a heavyweight, and Slock is thrown onto the Moss Rock as it leaves the docks and explodes. With the plot exposed, the Ambassador wants to move on to more social projects, but Retief heads out for a fishing vacation with his new friend Whonk.",
"The story begins with a meeting between Ambassador Magnan and Councillor Retief, who represents the Terrestrial Embassy on the planet Fust. The planet is populated with turtle-like creatures called Fustians (the younger Fustians lack the hard shell of the mature ones). Magnan assigns Retief the mission of sponsoring a new youth movement there called the Sexual, Cultural, Athletic Recreational Society (SCARS). Instead, Retief prefers to investigate a new passenger ship being built by the Fustians. Upon his arrival at the shipyard, Retief meets Whonk, an elderly Fustian who maintains documents, and he shows Retief the blueprints for the new ship. A young Fustian named Slock enters and arouses Retief’s suspicions by inquiring what he wants with the plans. After he leaves the shipyard, Retief is attacked by two young Fustians, and he returns to find Whonk has been attacked as well. Retief notices a stain on the ground that Whonk tells him is a remnant of four drums belonging to the Groaci—an alien species that operated a competing embassy. Retief had seen interacting a Groaci attache interacting with the youth that had attacked him earlier. The drums had been loaded onto a boat called \"Moss Rock.\" After identifying the smelly stain as an explosive called titanite, Retief and Whonk go to \"Moss Rock\" and discover a box containing a SCARS uniform. While there, they are attacked by an older-looking youth Fustian and discover that he is not a youth at all; rather, his shell has been removed by some mysterious method. They ward off another attack by his friends, and Retief decides to head to the sponsorship ceremony, realizing that the Groaci are likely taking advantage of the SCARS group's distaste for Fustian leadership to advance their plot to bomb \"Moss Rock\". At the sponsorship ceremony, Ambassador Magnan introduces Slock as guest of honor, and Retief and Whonk seize the opportunity to apprehend him and explain his deal with the Groaci to the press: The Groaci would supply weapons, and Slock would make sure they were installed on the ship. The SCARS uniforms found at the scene of the exploded ship would implicate them along with the Terrestrial Embassy, because of its sponsorship of SCARS. Magnan notes that Slock was scheduled to be on the ship, and Retief rebuts that this reveals the Groaci's intention to get rid of Slock after he'd done their bidding. Thus, the disaster at \"Moss Rock\" would cement the Groaci's control of Fust. Retief returns to the \"Moss Rock\" and captures the Groaci diplomat Yith, and Whonk captures Slock, whom they both discover has also had his shell surgically removed to appear younger. Retief makes a deal with Whonk to spare Yith's life in exchange for the same shell-removal surgery. Whonk takes his revenge on Slock by placing him back on the \"Moss Rock\" and exploding the ship with the titanite barrels on its course to Groaci. Retief informs Magnan that this display will prevent the Groaci from pursuing any further action against Fust.",
"Ambassador Magnan wants Retief, the Councillor working with him at the Terrestrial Embassy, to sponsor the Fustian youth group the Sexual, Cultural, and Athletic Recreational Society (SCARS), but Retief isn’t interested. Instead, he wants to check out the new passenger liner that the Fustians are building, but he does express concern about the Groaci’s interest in Fust, which has a steel-age manufacturing economy while Groaci is into crude atomics. At the shipyards, an old Fustian named Whonk shows him the blueprints for the new passenger liner. Retief takes photographs of the blueprints to study them later. Slock, a young Fustian, comes with a Groaci Embassy military attache and beats up on Whonk while Retief sneaks out the back.\n\nLater in the day, Retief has to attend a dinner where the sponsor for the SCARS youth group will be announced. On the way, he is accosted by two Fustain youth who tell him they want the films for the pictures he took of the blueprints. Retief manages to elude them. He has looked at pictures and realized they are plans for a replica of a battlecruiser used two hundred years ago and has gun placements. Retief realizes that Whonk must have told them about his pictures and knows that he wouldn’t tell them willingly, so he goes to Whonk’s office to look for him. He sees signs of a struggle and finds Whonk tied up behind some bales where he is out of sight. Whonk reveals he was attacked by a Groaci, Slock, and his cohorts, and they tried to kill him. Retief recognizes the smell of an explosive, and Whonk tells him drums of it have been placed on a barge called Moss Rock. \n\nRetief and Whonk decide to go back to the Embassy but are attacked by one of the young Fustians who attacked Whonk earlier that day. As they wrestle with him, they pull off his cloak to discover that his carapace has been removed, so he isn’t really a youth. Whonk is stunned because he believed it wasn’t possible to remove a carapace without killing the Fustian. \n\nAt the dinner, Magnan announces that Retief has won the “bidding” to sponsor the SCARS. Retief sneaks up on Slock and tells Magnan that he has figured out that the Groaci are planning to take over a local world and then branch out to more worlds. They have been using the young Fustians to help them set up their attack but planned to kill them after everything was ready. Retief catches a Groaci, and Whonk wants to kill him, but Retief gets him to promise to have the Groaci surgeon remove the carapaces from the older Fustians like Whonk. When Retief reports the scheme to Magnan, he tells his superior that the Moss Rock is headed for Groaci and will explode there, ending their problems with the Groaci.\n"
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of futile sons? What can I do to save myself from dying eight days from now? Is there escape? His eyes widened, another image came to focus. Beyond this valley of cliffs, on a low mountain lay a perfect, unscarred metal seed. A metal ship, not rusted or touched by the avalanches. The ship was deserted, whole, intact. It was the only ship of all these that had crashed that was still a unit, still usable. But it was so far away. There was no one in it to help. This ship, then, on the far mountain, was the destiny
What is POSAT? By PHYLLIS STERLING SMITH Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Of course coming events cast their shadows before, but this shadow was 400 years long! The following advertisement appeared in the July 1953 issue of several magazines: MASTERY OF ALL KNOWLEDGE CAN BE YOURS! What is the secret source of those profound principles that can solve the problems of life? Send for our FREE booklet of explanation. Do not be a
mission that huge and depressing in eight short, vanishing days? How had his people gotten into such a condition? As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown across space from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashing on this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women. When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffs from the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of the huge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upon a forge. Solar radiations drenched them.
10:30." The following evening found Quidley on tenter-hooks. The snoll-doper mystery had acquired a new tang. He could hardly wait till the next message transfer took place. He decided to spend the evening plotting the epic novel which he intended to write someday. He set to work immediately. He plotted mentally, of course—notes were for the hacks and the other commercial non-geniuses who infested the modern literary world. Closing his eyes, he saw the whole vivid panorama of epic action and grand adventure flowing like a mighty and majestic river before his literary vision: the authentic and awe-inspiring background; the
the corner he halted. The street lights had not yet come on. The street was dim. Everything was vague. He looked around—and froze. From the telephone pole in front of the police station, something large and shapeless hung. It moved a little with the wind. What the hell was it? Mason approached it warily. He wanted to get home. He was tired and hungry. He thought of his wife, his kids, a hot meal on the dinner table. But there was something about the dark bundle, something ominous and ugly. The light was bad; he couldn't tell what it was.
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What is the significance of Garve leaving the ship and following the call of the city?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Beast-Jewel of Mars by V. E. Thiessen.
Relevant chunks:
with searchlights. The shuttered glow of Burshis' Stumble Inn was only a few yards off to his right, but even that lodestone failed before the novel interest of a ship about to ground in the one-time Port of Ten Thousand Ships. Now he made out the flicker of the braking drive a mile or so overhead, and presently soft motor thunder came down to blanket the almost lightless city with sound. A beam swayed through the throbbing darkness, caught the descending ship and held it, a small gleaming minnow slipping through the dark heavens. A faint glow rose from Pi
of futile sons? What can I do to save myself from dying eight days from now? Is there escape? His eyes widened, another image came to focus. Beyond this valley of cliffs, on a low mountain lay a perfect, unscarred metal seed. A metal ship, not rusted or touched by the avalanches. The ship was deserted, whole, intact. It was the only ship of all these that had crashed that was still a unit, still usable. But it was so far away. There was no one in it to help. This ship, then, on the far mountain, was the destiny
a month ago. He thought once more of the girl who might be waiting for him, smiled, and pressed the switch. The dank air of the cabin was chill to Herbert Hyrel's naked flesh. He fumbled through the darkness for the clothing he kept there, found his shorts and trousers, got hurriedly into them, then flicked on a pocket lighter and ignited a stub of candle upon the table. By the wavering light, he finished dressing in the black satin clothing, the white shirt, the flowing necktie and tam. He invoiced the contents of his billfold. Not much. And his
low buildings, and which would be closely guarded. But the towship would also be guarded ... he shivered in the cold, dry night air. Mury had melted into the shadow a few yards away. There was a light scraping, then a green flame sputtered, briefly lighting up his hands and face, and narrowing at once to a thin, singing needle of light. He had turned a pocket electron torch against the lock-mechanism of a small, disused metal door. Ryd watched in painful suspense. There was no sound in his ears save for the hard, dry shrilling of the ray as
surrounding night. A prism of black that spread out and was lost into the sky. He listened. Good God, he could hear something. Something that made him struggle frantically to close his ears, his mind, to shut out the sound. A buzzing. A distant, muted hum like a great swarm of bees. Loyce gazed up, rigid with horror. The splotch of darkness, hanging over the City Hall. Darkness so thick it seemed almost solid. In the vortex something moved. Flickering shapes. Things, descending from the sky, pausing momentarily above the City Hall, fluttering over it in a dense swarm and
Question:
What is the significance of Garve leaving the ship and following the call of the city?
Answer:
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[
"Eric is determined to destroy the city without exploring it, no matter how tempting it is. But Garve's note forces the eldest brother to follow and help his brother out. The whole course of events changes and Eric has to return to the city, which he left with such an effort. This leads to Eric being endangered, captured and almost killed. From another point, it leads to Eric learning more about the city and they legend. If he destroyed the city as he wanted to, he would fulfill the prophecy without knowing. He would have considered the whole city an illusion without knowing it was a machine initially created for a good purpose. His return to the city also leads to his encounter with the beautiful girl, whose presence makes Eric happy. ",
"Garve leaving the ship and following the call of the city is very significant to the plot. Before Eric realised that Garve had gone to the city, he was planning on destroying the place, with all of its inhabitants at once. Because Grave is missing, Eric must return to the city, where Garve has learned from the Elders about the legend of Eric the Bronze. Garve tries to take Eric to see the Elders, but Eric is captured by two civilians on the way. It is during this capture that Eric meets Nolette, who takes him to see the Elders. Because of Garve leaving the ship, the Elders are able to explain the history behind this mysterious city of Mars, and that he must be the one to destroy it. \n",
"Garve’s leaving serves as a reason and motive for Eric North to go back to the city. Knowing that Garve does not have a metal helmet nor does he has any weapons, Eric needs to go back to the city to bring Garve back. And because Eric goes back to the city, he is captured again, which leads to the next part of the story inside the Elder’s building. If Garve did not leave for the city, Eric might not be captured, encounter Nolette, and learn about the city from the Elders. ",
"Garve leaving the ship and following the city's call sets up the second return to the city. Since Eric had initially planned to destroy the city, Garve's insistence on going back again prevents him from doing so. Furthermore, this second trip allows Eric to meet the Elders and not get killed by the citizens. Once he meets the Elders, he is more knowledgeable about the city's prophesy and story. It also sets up the purpose of Eric the Bronze and whether Eric North will fulfill it or not. However, this is also significant to Garve because he shows that he loves the city and wants to stay in it, directly contradicting what Eric is supposed to do to the city. \n\n"
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with searchlights. The shuttered glow of Burshis' Stumble Inn was only a few yards off to his right, but even that lodestone failed before the novel interest of a ship about to ground in the one-time Port of Ten Thousand Ships. Now he made out the flicker of the braking drive a mile or so overhead, and presently soft motor thunder came down to blanket the almost lightless city with sound. A beam swayed through the throbbing darkness, caught the descending ship and held it, a small gleaming minnow slipping through the dark heavens. A faint glow rose from Pi
of futile sons? What can I do to save myself from dying eight days from now? Is there escape? His eyes widened, another image came to focus. Beyond this valley of cliffs, on a low mountain lay a perfect, unscarred metal seed. A metal ship, not rusted or touched by the avalanches. The ship was deserted, whole, intact. It was the only ship of all these that had crashed that was still a unit, still usable. But it was so far away. There was no one in it to help. This ship, then, on the far mountain, was the destiny
a month ago. He thought once more of the girl who might be waiting for him, smiled, and pressed the switch. The dank air of the cabin was chill to Herbert Hyrel's naked flesh. He fumbled through the darkness for the clothing he kept there, found his shorts and trousers, got hurriedly into them, then flicked on a pocket lighter and ignited a stub of candle upon the table. By the wavering light, he finished dressing in the black satin clothing, the white shirt, the flowing necktie and tam. He invoiced the contents of his billfold. Not much. And his
low buildings, and which would be closely guarded. But the towship would also be guarded ... he shivered in the cold, dry night air. Mury had melted into the shadow a few yards away. There was a light scraping, then a green flame sputtered, briefly lighting up his hands and face, and narrowing at once to a thin, singing needle of light. He had turned a pocket electron torch against the lock-mechanism of a small, disused metal door. Ryd watched in painful suspense. There was no sound in his ears save for the hard, dry shrilling of the ray as
surrounding night. A prism of black that spread out and was lost into the sky. He listened. Good God, he could hear something. Something that made him struggle frantically to close his ears, his mind, to shut out the sound. A buzzing. A distant, muted hum like a great swarm of bees. Loyce gazed up, rigid with horror. The splotch of darkness, hanging over the City Hall. Darkness so thick it seemed almost solid. In the vortex something moved. Flickering shapes. Things, descending from the sky, pausing momentarily above the City Hall, fluttering over it in a dense swarm and
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What’s the significance of Dotty’s dreams?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Dr. Kometevsky's Day by Fritz Leiber.
Relevant chunks:
CAPTAIN MIDAS By ALFRED COPPEL, JR. The captain of the Martian Maid stared avidly at the torn derelict floating against the velvet void. Here was treasure beyond his wildest dreams! How could he know his dreams should have been nightmares? [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Fall 1949. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Gold! A magic word, even today, isn't it? Lust and gold ... they go hand in hand. Like the horsemen of the Apocalypse. And, of course, there's another word needed to make up
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
railing. It was wet. He raised damp fingers to his mouth. Salt. He stepped back, back, and turned and ran. He ran wildly, blindly, until he could run no more. Then he fell, feeling the sand beneath him, and shut his eyes and mind to everything. Much later, he got up and went to the fence and climbed it. He came down on the other side and looked around and saw Plum. He walked to her, mounted her, sat still. The thoughts, or dreams, or whatever they were which had been torturing him these past few weeks began torturing him
A wayfarer's return from a far country to his wife and family may be a shining experience, a kind of second honeymoon. Or it may be so shadowed by Time's relentless tyranny that the changes which have occurred in his absence can lead only to tragedy and despair. This rarely discerning, warmly human story by a brilliant newcomer to the science fantasy field is told with no pulling of punches, and its adroit unfolding will astound you. the hoofer by ... Walter M. Miller, Jr. A space rover has no business with a family. But what can a man in
was almost liquid. Coalescing drops dripped from the walls and curving ceiling and furniture, from the half clad body of the sleeping man, and the scavenger pump made greedy gulping sounds as it removed excess water from the floor. The doctor shook his head as he backed out, his clothes clinging wet from the short exposure. It was abnormal. But so was Barry Barr. With breathing no longer a continuous agony Barry began to recover some of his strength. But for several days much of his time was spent in sleep and Dorothy Voorhees haunted his dreams. Whenever he closed
Question:
What’s the significance of Dotty’s dreams?
Answer:
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[
"Throughout the entire story, the narrative gets interrupted by small parts of Dotty's dreams. She has extrasensory abilities, and the semi-god creatures use her and other ESPs to communicate with people. In her dreams, she tells the story of these creatures' life. She speaks about their belief in mental privacy and says that other gods do not want them to have private thoughts and decide to hunt them down. The creatures that value privacy of thoughts create inhabited planets and manage to hide for millions of years from the others. But now they have been found and need to flee again. Dotty’s dreams conceptually explain the origin of the planets of the Solar System and why those need to be destroyed now. Through her dreams, the creatures tell the Earth is their camouflaged spaceship, and they will soon need to live. \n",
"Dotty is one of the humans with Extra-Sensory Perception, which allows her to be a gateway of communication between the species that live within Earth and humans. A side effect of this is that she dreams a lot from the perspective of the other species. Her dreams are a reflection of what the species is feeling and what they are thinking with respect to their hunters. Dotty could understand that the species was being hunted, and could understand what they were thinking. At the end, Dotty wakes up and tells the family that she was dreaming.",
"Dotty is Frieda’s daughter who has extra-sensory perception. Dotty’s dream shows how the godlike creatures who live on Earth, their boat, escape from their pursuers and use life as camouflage to escape from the search. Her dream also shows what the godlike creatures think. In her dream, the godlike creatures express their desire for mental privacy that is not allowed by their other fellows. The godlike creatures leave their fellows, who are scared by them because of the unknown of their secret thoughts. When they used all their ways to get out of the universe, they had no choice but to hide under the camouflage disguised with life, and they succeeded. Dotty’s dream is significant because it shows how and why the godlike creatures fled from their point of view. It also indicates Dotty’s compatibility with the godlike creatures to allow them to talk with her family through her body.",
"Dotty’s dreams are significant because they tell the life of the god-like beings who have separated themselves from the rest of the group. Dotty’s dreams give insight to how the god-like beings came about, and how the start of the conflict between them and the rest of their race started. The dreams also reveal how the group managed to escape, creating great ships and camouflaging themselves so that their pursuers will not be able to catch up to them. Later, Dotty’s dreams also allow her to be controlled by one of the voices so that she is able to tell the rest of the Wolvers what will happen to the world and them because the pursuers have discovered where the rogue god-like group has been hiding. Dotty’s dreams also allow her to serve as a messenger between the two parties and inform them of what is happening in regards to the current situation. "
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CAPTAIN MIDAS By ALFRED COPPEL, JR. The captain of the Martian Maid stared avidly at the torn derelict floating against the velvet void. Here was treasure beyond his wildest dreams! How could he know his dreams should have been nightmares? [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Fall 1949. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Gold! A magic word, even today, isn't it? Lust and gold ... they go hand in hand. Like the horsemen of the Apocalypse. And, of course, there's another word needed to make up
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
railing. It was wet. He raised damp fingers to his mouth. Salt. He stepped back, back, and turned and ran. He ran wildly, blindly, until he could run no more. Then he fell, feeling the sand beneath him, and shut his eyes and mind to everything. Much later, he got up and went to the fence and climbed it. He came down on the other side and looked around and saw Plum. He walked to her, mounted her, sat still. The thoughts, or dreams, or whatever they were which had been torturing him these past few weeks began torturing him
A wayfarer's return from a far country to his wife and family may be a shining experience, a kind of second honeymoon. Or it may be so shadowed by Time's relentless tyranny that the changes which have occurred in his absence can lead only to tragedy and despair. This rarely discerning, warmly human story by a brilliant newcomer to the science fantasy field is told with no pulling of punches, and its adroit unfolding will astound you. the hoofer by ... Walter M. Miller, Jr. A space rover has no business with a family. But what can a man in
was almost liquid. Coalescing drops dripped from the walls and curving ceiling and furniture, from the half clad body of the sleeping man, and the scavenger pump made greedy gulping sounds as it removed excess water from the floor. The doctor shook his head as he backed out, his clothes clinging wet from the short exposure. It was abnormal. But so was Barry Barr. With breathing no longer a continuous agony Barry began to recover some of his strength. But for several days much of his time was spent in sleep and Dorothy Voorhees haunted his dreams. Whenever he closed
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What is the plot of the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Saboteur of Space by Robert Abernathy.
Relevant chunks:
"Well," he said, "before you kill me, tell me about the book." He held it up for Maota to see. "What about the book?" "What kind of book is it?" "What does Mr. Earthgod mean, what kind of book? You have seen it. It is like any other book, except for the material and the fact that it talks." "No, no. I mean, what's in it?" "Poetry." "Poetry? For God's sake, why poetry? Why not mathematics or history? Why not tell how to make the metal of the book itself? Now there is a subject worthy of a book." Maota
events of the day before dropping off to sleep. The troublesome Sally. The strange dream world of Armagon. The visit to the barber shop. The removal of Brundage's body. The conversations with the townspeople. Dawes' suspicious attitude ... Then sleep came. He was flanked by marble pillars, thrusting towards a high-domed ceiling. The room stretched long and wide before him, the walls bedecked in stunning purple draperies. He whirled at the sound of footsteps, echoing stridently on the stone floor. Someone was running towards him. It was Sally, pigtails streaming out behind her, the small body wearing a flowing white
enemy city of Grath was beautiful. Perhaps she would love him for helping to rescue her and come willingly with him to Konto. "I will help you, stranger," he agreed. "Then tell me of the Skull, and of the priests, and of the prison where Tholon Sarna is held." The slave's fingers flew. "All the young female slaves are caged together in the pit beneath the Skull. When the sun is directly overhead the High Priest will choose one of them for sacrifice to mighty Uzdon, most potent of all gods. And with the dawning of the next day the
aunts tell me I was born there in the middle of the war." "What war?" he asked startledly, spilling some lemonade. "The World War, of course. What's the matter?" Jack Barr was staring down at the spilled lemonade and feeling a kind of terror he'd never experienced in his waking life. Nothing around him had changed. He could still feel the same hot sun on his shoulders, the same icy glass in his hand, scent the same lemon-acid odor in his nostrils. He could still hear the faint chop-chop of the waves. And yet everything had changed, gone dark and
tightening of the man's shoulder muscles that his presence was known. He looked down and saw that his feet made clear-cut depressions in the soft rich soil of the field. "Continue to work," he said to the young man. "Do not be too surprised at what I am about to tell you, Rold." He paused and watched the golden man's rather stupid face intently. "I am not a Misty One," Noork said. "I killed the owner of this strange garment I wear yesterday on the mainland. I have come to rescue the girl, Tholon Sarna, of whom you spoke." Rold's
Question:
What is the plot of the story?
Answer:
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[
"It’s the year 819, and a man named Ryd Randl who lives in Dynamopolis, a city in North America, goes to a dive bar. The place is crowded with many men because Dynamopolis is experiencing a power shortage, and they would freeze outside. Burshis, the owner of the bar, gives Ryd a free drink and explains that a ship from Mars just brought power back. He is expecting there to be a big boom in the economy soon, which will lead to jobs for people like Ryd. Ryd is not easily convinced of this good news. \nThe ugly and tall man sitting next to Ryd recognizes him. Once outside, Mury introduces himself and asks Ryd if he wants to make some money. He explains that he can offer Ryd a comeback. Ryd has been jobless for ten years, but before that he was a helio operator. Since then, Mars has become fully independent, and all the work moved there. Mury says that he is working for the hundreds of men who have been put out by the corrupt government on Mars. Although Ryd and all the other Earthmen have been told that the new power cylinder being installed will create jobs and bring back the power, Mury argues that isn’t truly the case. He insists that Earthmen are essentially slaves to Mars’s landowners, and in order to stop that from happening, they must stop the power cylinder from landing on Earth. \nThe two men arrive at Pi Mesa, and Mury kills a guard. Ryd steals his clothing and his flame pistol so that they can get on the ship unnoticed. Ryd must pretend to be a guard escorting Mury, the Poligerent of Dynamopolis aboard the Shahrazad. The two men sneak into the controlled area through a metal door, make it to the Communications Tower, and speak with a guard. Mury offers to show his credentials as Poligerent, and surprises the guard with a punch to the gut. Mury takes the officer’s gun, points it at him, and demands he accompany them. \n\nRyd nervously points his flame pistol at the guard and drops his weapon. The weapon goes off and its flame hits some machinery. This gives the pilot pause, and Mury hurries to the control room and takes over the situation. There are three workers there who become his hostages. He explains to the men that he’s taking Shahrazad into space to meet the power shell. \n\nWhen the ship takes off, Ryd passes out from the pressure of the acceleration. When he wakes, Mury assures him that they are on the right path, somewhere near the orbit of the Moon. However, Mury quickly finds out that his masterful plan has been foiled when one of his prisoners, the astrogator, informs him that a ship named the Alboroak is approaching, and it’s about to intercept them. \n",
"The story begins with the landing of a Martian ship on Earth, where electrical power has reached a critical shortage. The Martian ship reportedly carries a power cylinder that will restore power on Earth, enabling businesses to reopen and people to regain their jobs. Ryd Randl sees the ship landing just before he enters the Burshis’ Stumble Inn which has power and where many men are staying to keep from freezing to death outside. Ryd lost his job ten years ago, and apparently, he has asked for loans from many people in the bar because they will not look him in the eye. The bar owner gives him a free drink but refuses to offer him a loan if Ryd asks him for one. A stranger approaches Ryd and seems to know, although Ryd does not know the stranger. The stranger asks Ryd to step outside with him and offers Ryd a way to make money. The stranger’s name is Mury, and he is a Poligerent. Mury claims to be working for all the Earthmen who lost their jobs when the government made a deal with Mars. The Martians have sent a power cylinder to Earth that is supposed to restore power to Earth; however, Mury explains that the people who rule Earth’s nations have sold the planet in exchange for the device because Earth will become a colony of Mars. He claims that the Martians view Earth as a ready labor pool of slaves. Mury wants Ryd to help him prevent the power shell from reaching Earth. Ryd doesn’t want to agree to help but knows that if he doesn’t, Mury will kill him.\n\tMury and Ryd go to the airstrip where the Martian ship and its township have landed. Mury kills a guard and orders Ryd to don the uniform; he plans for Ryd to act as his escort to the towship so that he can go aboard. In their guises, Ryd and Mury make their way to the township unaccosted until one guard becomes suspicious and confronts them. When Mury offers to show him his credentials, Mury hits him in the stomach and brings him aboard the towship. The pilots and an astrogator are in the cockpit when Mury enters and sends the pilots out. The ship takes off, and when it nears the orbit of the Moon, Ryd comes to and asks where they are. Mury and the astrogator notice a bright light on the radar screen which indicates a ship. The astrogator claims it is a ship on a diplomatic mission for Mars, but Mury claims it is a warship because of its speed. He says the ship is looking for them and will intercept them in twenty minutes.\n",
"Some time in the future, Earth has sold the planet to Mars and become a colony of the Red Planet. This causes unrest for laborers who feel Mars is allowing Earth to degrade so that they can export human labor to Mars at very low cost. In the city of Dynamopolis, their main industry is distributing power, which once made them the power center of North America. \n\nThere is a spaceport, Pi Mesa, that receives essential supplies for Earth to continue existing, such as the power cylinder send from Mars as aid to Earth that is rumored to have landed there. The power shell means an end to an electrical blackout the people of Earth are currently suffering from and the creation of jobs for the people of Dynamopolis.\n\nA scary figure named Mury meets Ryd Randl, a helio operator currently out of work, at the Stumble Inn bar in Dynamopolis. Mury forces Ryd into a grand plan to board a Martian spaceship on Pi Mesa to intercept a power shell in outer space and stop it from being delivered to Earth. Mury wishes to start a sort of revolution on Earth for it to become independent from Mars again, and describes that there is an “inescapable conflict” coming between Earth and Mars.\n\nMury and Ryd invade the Pi Mesa spaceport by killing a guard, and taking his clothes to disguise Ryd as a guard escorting Mury. This disguise works for a time until one of the Martian guards senses something is wrong and tries to stop them. They narrowly make it aboard a towship called Shahrazad which they believe is going into space to retrieve a power shell to bring down to Earth. They force the captain and crew into an airlock, except for the astronavigator named Arliess, who Mury forces to continue working by holding their planned course. \n\nWhen they blast off into outer space, Mury spots a Martian warship which may confirm his suspicion that Mars was about to begin a war with Earth. This is where the story ends.\n\n",
"Set in the 800s 14,000 feet in the sky, Ryd Randl gets his first free drink of the month. He walks into Burshis’ Stumble Inn where the bartender, Burshis, hands him a drink. There’s buzz about the arrival of power from Mars. Dynamopolis has been desolate for at least a decade. This center lacked power and many lost their jobs over it. So, this new deal struck with Mars is giving people hope again. Randl laughs it off, however. He was laid off 10 years ago and gave up on finding another job. \nThe beak-nosed, scary man next to him drags Randl outside, after paying for his drink and offering him money. He introduces himself as Mury and proposes a deal. A revolutionary, Mury wants to stop the shipment to protect Earthmen from becoming Martian slaves. He needs Randl’s help, and he’ll pay 50,000 credits. Ryd agrees, and they make the trek to Pi Mesa. Mury kills a guard on the way up, and Ryd changes into his clothes, flame pistol included. Now Mury will pretend to be a Poligerent of Dynamopolis so they can board the Shahrazad. \nThey break into the spaceport successfully and continue on. Their disguises work for the most part, though Ryd’s nervous behavior makes them suspicious. Making their way down the runways, they finally arrive at the Communications Tower. On the tarmac lay Shahrazad, but guards both human and robot were everywhere. They made it onto the airlock before another guard took notice. He rushes after them and asks them who they are. Mury turns and tells him his credentials, then offers to show him ID. He then punches him and disarms him. The guard comes onboard as their captive. At first, the switches don’t work, but Mury calms Ryd down. When the central control panel is cut, then the ship will take off. \nRyd is supposed to be covering the guard when he slips and drops his weapon. The guard picks it up but is soon defeated. Mury forces the young pilot, Yet Arliess, to take off, while he sends the other two men to the airlock. The pilot does as he says, and all is well until Mury notices something on the map. There’s a bright light, one that wasn’t there before. A warship was coming for them, and although Arliess tried to lie, Mury saw straight through it. \n"
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"Well," he said, "before you kill me, tell me about the book." He held it up for Maota to see. "What about the book?" "What kind of book is it?" "What does Mr. Earthgod mean, what kind of book? You have seen it. It is like any other book, except for the material and the fact that it talks." "No, no. I mean, what's in it?" "Poetry." "Poetry? For God's sake, why poetry? Why not mathematics or history? Why not tell how to make the metal of the book itself? Now there is a subject worthy of a book." Maota
events of the day before dropping off to sleep. The troublesome Sally. The strange dream world of Armagon. The visit to the barber shop. The removal of Brundage's body. The conversations with the townspeople. Dawes' suspicious attitude ... Then sleep came. He was flanked by marble pillars, thrusting towards a high-domed ceiling. The room stretched long and wide before him, the walls bedecked in stunning purple draperies. He whirled at the sound of footsteps, echoing stridently on the stone floor. Someone was running towards him. It was Sally, pigtails streaming out behind her, the small body wearing a flowing white
enemy city of Grath was beautiful. Perhaps she would love him for helping to rescue her and come willingly with him to Konto. "I will help you, stranger," he agreed. "Then tell me of the Skull, and of the priests, and of the prison where Tholon Sarna is held." The slave's fingers flew. "All the young female slaves are caged together in the pit beneath the Skull. When the sun is directly overhead the High Priest will choose one of them for sacrifice to mighty Uzdon, most potent of all gods. And with the dawning of the next day the
aunts tell me I was born there in the middle of the war." "What war?" he asked startledly, spilling some lemonade. "The World War, of course. What's the matter?" Jack Barr was staring down at the spilled lemonade and feeling a kind of terror he'd never experienced in his waking life. Nothing around him had changed. He could still feel the same hot sun on his shoulders, the same icy glass in his hand, scent the same lemon-acid odor in his nostrils. He could still hear the faint chop-chop of the waves. And yet everything had changed, gone dark and
tightening of the man's shoulder muscles that his presence was known. He looked down and saw that his feet made clear-cut depressions in the soft rich soil of the field. "Continue to work," he said to the young man. "Do not be too surprised at what I am about to tell you, Rold." He paused and watched the golden man's rather stupid face intently. "I am not a Misty One," Noork said. "I killed the owner of this strange garment I wear yesterday on the mainland. I have come to rescue the girl, Tholon Sarna, of whom you spoke." Rold's
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What is the plot of the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Acid Bath by Bill Garson.
Relevant chunks:
of futile sons? What can I do to save myself from dying eight days from now? Is there escape? His eyes widened, another image came to focus. Beyond this valley of cliffs, on a low mountain lay a perfect, unscarred metal seed. A metal ship, not rusted or touched by the avalanches. The ship was deserted, whole, intact. It was the only ship of all these that had crashed that was still a unit, still usable. But it was so far away. There was no one in it to help. This ship, then, on the far mountain, was the destiny
What is POSAT? By PHYLLIS STERLING SMITH Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Of course coming events cast their shadows before, but this shadow was 400 years long! The following advertisement appeared in the July 1953 issue of several magazines: MASTERY OF ALL KNOWLEDGE CAN BE YOURS! What is the secret source of those profound principles that can solve the problems of life? Send for our FREE booklet of explanation. Do not be a
mission that huge and depressing in eight short, vanishing days? How had his people gotten into such a condition? As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown across space from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashing on this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women. When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffs from the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of the huge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upon a forge. Solar radiations drenched them.
10:30." The following evening found Quidley on tenter-hooks. The snoll-doper mystery had acquired a new tang. He could hardly wait till the next message transfer took place. He decided to spend the evening plotting the epic novel which he intended to write someday. He set to work immediately. He plotted mentally, of course—notes were for the hacks and the other commercial non-geniuses who infested the modern literary world. Closing his eyes, he saw the whole vivid panorama of epic action and grand adventure flowing like a mighty and majestic river before his literary vision: the authentic and awe-inspiring background; the
the corner he halted. The street lights had not yet come on. The street was dim. Everything was vague. He looked around—and froze. From the telephone pole in front of the police station, something large and shapeless hung. It moved a little with the wind. What the hell was it? Mason approached it warily. He wanted to get home. He was tired and hungry. He thought of his wife, his kids, a hot meal on the dinner table. But there was something about the dark bundle, something ominous and ugly. The light was bad; he couldn't tell what it was.
Question:
What is the plot of the story?
Answer:
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[
"Jon Karyl is bolting a new baffle plate on the stationary rocket engine and ignores what happens around other parts of the little asteroid. A peculiar spaceship lands a few hundred yards away from his plastic igloo, and a half-dozen steel-blue creatures slide out of the airlock. When he climbs up again and sees the creatures, Jon runs for the rocky slopes. Jon brings out his stubray pistol and turns up the oxygen dial for greater exertion as two of the creatures continue to chase him. He manages to elude them by going down a dim trail temporarily. Once Jon finds the stubby bush shaped like a Maltese cross, he keeps going until he reaches the hollowed-out space. He observes the steel-blue creatures from the televisor, noting how they head towards the station to try and destroy it. Although the station is not supposed to break because it is made out of stelrylite, the creatures pound holes into the station with round-headed metal clubs. He presses the atomic cannon’s firing buttons and finds that it is impossible to damage the ship. Suddenly, a Steel-Blue paralyzes him from the waist down and tells him to come with them. Once outside, the Steel-Blue explains to Jon that the most protective metal they use is the softest one in their world. He follows the Steel-Blue into the ship, where a more massive one tells Jon’s Steel-Blue to examine him and give him death. The Steel-Blue brings him to the examination room, where Jon is curious about this whole interaction. He thinks about warning the SP patrol and using his weapon, but his Steel-Blue tells him they are already aware of it. The other Steel-Blues begin reproducing the service station, and Jon’s Steel-Blue tells him that his torture will be dissolved in a liquid they have prepared. When he goes inside, he prepares to blast at the cylinder with his gun. However, the tentacles take it away from him and bring him a glass-like cup filled with liquid. Jon toasts to Earth and drinks the liquid, going to sleep shortly after. When he awakes again, the Steel-Blues are amazed that he is still alive. On the fifth day, Jon breaks out of his plastic bowl with his subray because he is hungry. The Steel-Blues try to torture him more with the poison, and Jon has now made it a fetish to stay alive. When Jon takes the drink from No. 1, it tells him that the SP ship will be destroyed. Jon tries to send a distress signal, and he watches as the SP ship begins to come abruptly. The Steel-Blues watch as he tries to escape, only to be greeted by the voice of a space guard. Captain Ron Small of SP-101 tells him later that the Steel-Blues fed him a liquid they feared. The Steel-Blues tried to fight back, but the SP ship just shot a water rocket and set it on atomic fire. Captain Small and Jon then toast to water. ",
"This story follows Jon Karyl, a service station attendant. While fixing something on the rocket engine, a landing peculiar blue ship escapes his attention. When he notices the intruders, he finds them to be steel-blue creatures intent on approaching and capturing him. Escaping away back to the service station, he fires atomic cannons at the creatures' ship only to watch it ricochet off. Suddenly, a Steel-Blue temporarily paralyzes his legs and instructs him to follow. Karyl finds out - through an exchange of mind-reading - that these Steel-Blues are just like Earthmen as they seek out further planets to inhabit. \n\nAnother Steel-Blue instructs Karyl's Steel-Blue to examine him and then torture him, leaving him to his death. Proclaimed to be a soft-metal creature, Karyl is instructed to enter a plastic igloo. This igloo is a reproduction of Earth's atmosphere, so the Steel-Blues can observe the torture. In it, Karyl is given a series of dilutions containing a liquid that dissolves metal, with the last tumbler containing the pure liquid. Though Karyl initially tries to escape using his stubray pistol, he becomes curious about death and drinks the liquid. To the Steel-Blues surprise, he survives the first night and all subsequent days as well, seemingly only suffering from a lack of food and nutrition. Karyl vows to stay alive until the SP ship can rescue him, but his Steel-Blue warns him that they will be ready to attack it when it comes. \n\nOn the sixteenth day, the Steel-Blues await Karyl to die as they give him the final undiluted liquid. Drinking it, Karyl laughs instead and taunts the Steel-Blues. Using a power-pack radio, he sends a warning signal to the SP ship. When it arrives, he stumbles out of the igloo and crawls until he hears a human voice. Later on in his recovery, he finds out that his warning was successful and that the liquid thought to be poison by the Steel-Blues was in fact water. Beneficial to humans, but harmful to robots. In fact, this is what the Captain of the SP ship used to attack the Steel-Blues. ",
"After he repairs the rocket engine, Jon Karyl, a starways’ Lone Watcher, notices the invasion of Steel-Blues, extraterrestrial robotic creatures. He flees towards the service station while six Steel-Blues chase behind him. During his run, Steel-Blues use power rays to attack him but fail. He flees successfully into the service station, uses the televisors to spot the motion of Steel-Blues, and examines them. He realizes Steel-Blues are robotic. The pounding sound upstairs makes Jon realizes that Steel-Blues is trying to break the entrance door. He thinks Steel-Blues are doing a useless job as the strongest metal forms the service station in the solar system. He goes to the station’s power plant to use the televisor that can see every room, but the Steel-Blue pounds a hole into the door, which seems impossible to him. He attacks the Steel-Blues’ spaceship with an atomic cannon bomb, finding the bomb ricochet off the ship and strike the rocket nearby. Suddenly, he is taken down by the Steel-Blue, who invades the station when he tries to attack the ship the second time. Through the conversation with the invading Steel-Blue, Jon knows that they can read his mind when it is directed outward.\n\nAs Jon is taken to the Steel-Blues’ ship, he learns that the toughest metal in the solar system is considered the most vulnerable one for Steel-Blues. He also knows that Steel-Blues’ purpose in invading the solar system is to conquer more living spaces for themselves. In the Steel-Blues’ ship, Jon sees the leader of the Steel-Blue, who orders Jon’s guide Steel-Blue to examine Jon. After Jon is examined, they classify him as a soft-metal creature by him. Jon is taken to a prison to undergo the torture built by the Steel-Blue, forced to drink a liquid used to dissolve the metal. The Earth space patrol cruiser will come to refuel their ship after 21 days; Jon knows that he has to stay alive until then to alert the SP ship. During the torture, namely drinking the unknown liquid, Jon attempts to escape but fails. The Steel-Blues every day watch him undergo torture. At the beginning of the torture, the liquid is diluted and tastes like some strong acid. As the days pass, the diluted portion decreases, and Jon realizes what the liquid is. Finally, on the last day, when the SP ship is scheduled to come, and Jon is fed with the undiluted liquid, he realizes that it is water and the weakness of the Steel-Blues. He sends the message to the SP ship and then passes out outside the prison. When he wakes up, he is rescued by the SP ship, and the Steel-Blues is destroyed by the powerful water attack of the SP ship.\n",
"The story follows Jon Karyl, a lone watcher that lives in what seems to be an asteroid. He is in charge of watching and protecting the asteroid before other humans come. While doing this, an alien ship arrives on the asteroid. Jon is forced to run from his base while the aliens chase him. He manages to get to his secondary entry to the base without the aliens seeing. When he gets back to the base, he tries to shoot the enemy ship with a cannon, but he doesn’t do any damage. Instead, the aliens manage to break into his base and capture him. Jon is taken to the enemy ship and he realizes that the aliens are in fact robots. The robots take him to their leader, where Jon is told that he will be tortured. Jon knows that there is another ship coming in 21 days, so he only has to survive for those days. The robots give Jon an acid that would slowly kill him, and Jon is forced to drink it. After a few days of this same routine, Jon escapes the ship using his blaster, as he is very hungry. He gets caught again and continues drinking the acid. When the human ship arrives, Jon manages to warn them about the robots. When Jon woke up from passing out, the humans had already destroyed the robots. It is revealed that they had been feeding Jon water and citric acid, thinking that it would kill Jon. "
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of futile sons? What can I do to save myself from dying eight days from now? Is there escape? His eyes widened, another image came to focus. Beyond this valley of cliffs, on a low mountain lay a perfect, unscarred metal seed. A metal ship, not rusted or touched by the avalanches. The ship was deserted, whole, intact. It was the only ship of all these that had crashed that was still a unit, still usable. But it was so far away. There was no one in it to help. This ship, then, on the far mountain, was the destiny
What is POSAT? By PHYLLIS STERLING SMITH Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Of course coming events cast their shadows before, but this shadow was 400 years long! The following advertisement appeared in the July 1953 issue of several magazines: MASTERY OF ALL KNOWLEDGE CAN BE YOURS! What is the secret source of those profound principles that can solve the problems of life? Send for our FREE booklet of explanation. Do not be a
mission that huge and depressing in eight short, vanishing days? How had his people gotten into such a condition? As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown across space from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashing on this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women. When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffs from the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of the huge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upon a forge. Solar radiations drenched them.
10:30." The following evening found Quidley on tenter-hooks. The snoll-doper mystery had acquired a new tang. He could hardly wait till the next message transfer took place. He decided to spend the evening plotting the epic novel which he intended to write someday. He set to work immediately. He plotted mentally, of course—notes were for the hacks and the other commercial non-geniuses who infested the modern literary world. Closing his eyes, he saw the whole vivid panorama of epic action and grand adventure flowing like a mighty and majestic river before his literary vision: the authentic and awe-inspiring background; the
the corner he halted. The street lights had not yet come on. The street was dim. Everything was vague. He looked around—and froze. From the telephone pole in front of the police station, something large and shapeless hung. It moved a little with the wind. What the hell was it? Mason approached it warily. He wanted to get home. He was tired and hungry. He thought of his wife, his kids, a hot meal on the dinner table. But there was something about the dark bundle, something ominous and ugly. The light was bad; he couldn't tell what it was.
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What appears to be the role of the State in the Northem?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about I, the Unspeakable by Walter J. Sheldon.
Relevant chunks:
will always wonder what might have happened if he hadn't called them! Was my distrust of Gravgak justified? Had I become merely a jealous lover—or was I right in my hunch that the tall muscular guard was a potential traitor?) Vauna reappeared at once. I believe she was glad that she had been called back. Gravgak came sullenly. At the edge of the crowd in the arched doorway he stood scowling. "While we are together," old Tomboldo said quietly, looking around at the assemblage, "I must tell you the decision of the council. Soon we will move back to the
the Round seem to be a group of warriors of the sort who lived by pillage and rapine. The hooded figure is a most unusual find. We believe it to be that of a sorcerer who pretended to control the forces of nature and see into the future." Joggy whispered: "How is it that we can't see the audience through the other side of the bubble? We can see through this side, all right." "The bubble only shines light out," Hal told him hurriedly, to show he knew some things as well as the interpreter. "Nothing, not even light, can
the year? We know we didn't have a full three months with our Expendable Field in operation on the new traps, but we want the payola for what we have coming. "Condescending form letter to Humane Lethal Equipment. Absolutely do not send the California penal system any chambers equipped with our patented field until legislature officially approves them. We got away with it in New Mexico, but we're older and wiser now. "Rush priority telegram to President, United States, any time in the next ten days. Thanks for citation, et cetera. Glad buddy system working out well in training battlefield
I'm sorry." "Oh, Steve! Steve! What will we do? What can we do?" "Find him, if it isn't too late. Come on." "North?" "North." "And if by some miracle we find him?" Steve said nothing. The answer—capture or death—was obvious. But you couldn't tell that to a traitor's daughter, could you? As it turned out, they did not find Tobias Whiting through their own efforts. Half an hour after setting out from the unicopter, they were spotted by a roving band of Kumajis, who came streaking toward them on their thlots . Mary raised her atorifle, but Steve struck the
legs stiffened, his neckless head seemed to retreat even further between his powerful shoulders, his lips writhed back to show his gleaming fangs, and a completely unfamiliar sound issued from his throat. A choked, grating sound. A growl. The other uninjes moved uneasily. "Do you suppose something's the matter with his circuits?" Joggy whispered. "Maybe he's getting racial memories from the Scands." "Of course not," Hal said irritably. "Brute, get over there," the Butcher commanded. Unwillingly, eyes still fixed on the blackness ahead, Brute obeyed. The three boys started on. Hal and Joggy experienced a vaguely electrical tingling that vanished
Question:
What appears to be the role of the State in the Northem?
Answer:
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[
"Northem, one of the two superstates of the world and home to the Narrator, is ruled by the State. It is highly efficient, and allocates alphanumeric designations to its citizens to be used as names. In the most recent renumbering, the State assigns the narrator an unspeakable four-letter designation. \n\tThe State, through its officers the Deacons, enforces norms of acceptability. These norms include the ranges of physical attractiveness within which women are required to stay, the flat tone of voice in which citizens must speak, and the facial expressions citizens are allowed to display. Additionally, the State regulates sexual behaviour: mating is only allowed in Eugenic Centers, and those who infract upon sexual norms are sent to a prison planet called Marscol. \n\tThe State further regulates the allocation of realfood, such as eggs, which is a valuable commodity. When the balance of trade between Northem and Southem, the other superstate, fluctuates, more or less realfood becomes available. Non-productive members of society, so long as they are conformists, or loyal members of the state, are cared for by the State.\n",
"The State is currently ruling over Northem. They’ve set rules that must be followed by the citizens, those that infract and do not obey will be send to Marscol. Those that follow the rules, the states will provide food to them. Thus, the State cultivate and organize conformists, and tell them to obey rules. Moreover, because the old designations were not efficient, and there are more than two billion people in Northem. Thus the State has decided to introduce a new renumbering system that would be benificial to both the Northm and the Southem. Thus everyone was renumbered. They each receives a six digits along with four digits of prefix or sufix. \n\nFurthermore, the State favors short and succinct languages. It prefers efficiency. They changed the numbering system because it was not efficient; the boss was trying to ease the main character out because he desired an efficient organization; the cyb asked for efficient words when the main character was the Govpub Office. \n\nAlso, there had been political differences between the Northern and Southern states. During those times, they each spread longitudinally across the globe. While not in war currently, both of the states are geared up for it. ",
"The Northem acts as the moral, civilized, and orderly opposition to the Southem. The State helps to enforce this order and civility, primarily by the renumbering of its citizens. This structured system of naming attempts to place citizens on similar levels and address each other formally. To challenge this naming system would be to question the authority of the State. Society is also divided into Producers and Non-Producers; the Non-Producers are seen as draining of the Northem, reinforcing productivity as a defining value of the State. The State also aids in enforcing mating regulations; the narrator notes that pre-atomic civilization had free mating, where public affection and partnership was common; however, mating is now a State-regulated activity as provided by Eugenic Centers.",
"The citizens of Northem are conformists that dare do not go against the State nor criticize the State. The State regulates nearly every aspect of a person’s life. The State of Northem is in charge of renumbering, assigning a work designation, food allotments, sleeping arrangements, and mating abilities for its citizens. Renumbering is claimed to help the war-type struggle against Southem. With the new designation, every person was assigned six digits and four letters as a prefix or suffix. "
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will always wonder what might have happened if he hadn't called them! Was my distrust of Gravgak justified? Had I become merely a jealous lover—or was I right in my hunch that the tall muscular guard was a potential traitor?) Vauna reappeared at once. I believe she was glad that she had been called back. Gravgak came sullenly. At the edge of the crowd in the arched doorway he stood scowling. "While we are together," old Tomboldo said quietly, looking around at the assemblage, "I must tell you the decision of the council. Soon we will move back to the
the Round seem to be a group of warriors of the sort who lived by pillage and rapine. The hooded figure is a most unusual find. We believe it to be that of a sorcerer who pretended to control the forces of nature and see into the future." Joggy whispered: "How is it that we can't see the audience through the other side of the bubble? We can see through this side, all right." "The bubble only shines light out," Hal told him hurriedly, to show he knew some things as well as the interpreter. "Nothing, not even light, can
the year? We know we didn't have a full three months with our Expendable Field in operation on the new traps, but we want the payola for what we have coming. "Condescending form letter to Humane Lethal Equipment. Absolutely do not send the California penal system any chambers equipped with our patented field until legislature officially approves them. We got away with it in New Mexico, but we're older and wiser now. "Rush priority telegram to President, United States, any time in the next ten days. Thanks for citation, et cetera. Glad buddy system working out well in training battlefield
I'm sorry." "Oh, Steve! Steve! What will we do? What can we do?" "Find him, if it isn't too late. Come on." "North?" "North." "And if by some miracle we find him?" Steve said nothing. The answer—capture or death—was obvious. But you couldn't tell that to a traitor's daughter, could you? As it turned out, they did not find Tobias Whiting through their own efforts. Half an hour after setting out from the unicopter, they were spotted by a roving band of Kumajis, who came streaking toward them on their thlots . Mary raised her atorifle, but Steve struck the
legs stiffened, his neckless head seemed to retreat even further between his powerful shoulders, his lips writhed back to show his gleaming fangs, and a completely unfamiliar sound issued from his throat. A choked, grating sound. A growl. The other uninjes moved uneasily. "Do you suppose something's the matter with his circuits?" Joggy whispered. "Maybe he's getting racial memories from the Scands." "Of course not," Hal said irritably. "Brute, get over there," the Butcher commanded. Unwillingly, eyes still fixed on the blackness ahead, Brute obeyed. The three boys started on. Hal and Joggy experienced a vaguely electrical tingling that vanished
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Describe the settings the story takes place in.
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Butterfly 9 by Donald Keith.
Relevant chunks:
space ship. We've enough concentrated supplies to last for a year. How far do we go? Why? When?" They stepped upon the Earth and felt the warmth of the sun and strolled toward the top of the hill. "The air smells clean," he said. "The ground feels good. I think I'll take off my shoes." She did. "Take off your boots, Michael. Try it." Wearily he pulled off his boots, stood in his bare feet. "It takes me back." "Yes," she said and began walking toward the hilltop. He followed, his boots slung around his neck. "There was a road
An elaborate description of the boy in great detail followed, ending with blood type, agglutinating characteristic, and gene-pattern, codified. Walton skipped impatiently through that and came to the notification typed in curt, impersonal green capital letters at the bottom of the card: EXAMINED AT N Y EUTH CLINIC 10 JUNE 2332 EUTHANASIA RECOMMENDED He glanced at his watch: the time was 1026. The boy was probably still somewhere in the clinic lab, waiting for the figurative axe to descend. Walton had set up the schedule himself: the gas chamber delivered Happysleep each day at 1100 and 1500. He had about
somewhere, with the dust between my toes. Or was it a dream?" "I guess when the past is old enough," she said, "it becomes a dream." He watched her footprints in the dust. "God, listen to the quiet." "I can't seem to remember so much quiet around me. There's always been the sound of a space ship, or the pumps back in the cities." He did not answer but continued to watch her footsteps and to feel the dust squishing up between his toes. Then suddenly: "Mary!" She stopped, whirling around. He was staring down at her feet. She followed
Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science Fiction June 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. THE VALLEY By Richard Stockham Illustrated by Ed Emsh If you can't find it countless millions of miles in space, come back to Earth. You might find it just on the other side of the fence—where the grass is always greener. The Ship dove into Earth's sea of atmosphere like a great, silver fish. Inside the ship, a man and woman stood looking down at the expanse of land that
the uneven terrain. "Oh, the bag!" she gasped. "I've dropped it." He chuckled again. "Have got. You scare, I catch." She didn't see the ship because of the wind in her eyes, but without warning she plummeted down and her feet jarred on the lip of the lock. "Inside. No noise, no light. Easy." But in spite of his warning she tripped in the darkness. He helped her from the floor and guided her to the hammocks. "Judith?" she asked. "Here. Beside you, trussed up so tight I can hardly breathe." "No talk!" Rat insisted. "Much hush-hush needed. Other girl
Question:
Describe the settings the story takes place in.
Answer:
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[
"The story takes place on Earth, in the year 1957. It opens in a restaurant, and quickly transitions to Mr. Snader’s 4-D TRAVEL BEURO time travel station, inside of a “middle-sized, middle-cost home in a good neighborhood.” They could hear traffic dimly in the station and see mountains out the windows on the horizon. \n\nThe time travelling room appears like a doctor's waiting room, with chair lined walls. There is a station sign - 701 - that hangs on the ceiling and two movie screens on the far ends of the room. Stepping through one screen would take them forwards in time, and one backwards in time. The Elliotts go to station 725, which Mr. Snader tells them is six years in the past.\n\nThe past is very unfamiliar, more industrialized with more highways than they remember. After travelling in a limousine, they transition to a 6th floor apartment house of a building with heavy carpets and soft lighting.\nThe final settings are a lunch counter, with unfamiliar food to the Elliotts, and finally their jail cells.\n",
"Ann and Jeff meet Greet Snader in a restaurant where they are having dinner and discussing Jeff’s business troubles. After meeting Snader, they follow him to a place called a “station.” They are surprised to find that it’s actually a moderately-sized home in a residential neighborhood. It doesn’t look suspicious at all. Jeff notes the mountains on the horizon and the warm breeze he feels before he steps inside. Snader uses a key hanging from his necklace to unlock the door, and once inside, he leads the couple to an area that looks a lot like a doctor’s waiting room. However, there are two screens hanging from the ceiling, and they are both playing moving pictures. There is a large plaque that says “701”, and Jeff and Ann do not know what to make of it. They are even more dumbfounded when Snader salutes some of the people on screen, and they wave back at him. \n\nAfter Jeff and Ann time travel, they exit the screen and find that the room looks very similar to the one they were just in. For a moment, they believe that Snader has tricked them. However, when they leave the building, they find a limousine out front instead of Jeff’s car. They drive through the city they call home, but none of the signs and landmarks are even remotely the same. \n\nAfter leaving Mr. Bullen’s office, they walk around town a little bit and quickly realize that the language on all the signage is different from how they speak. One reads, “'Sleek neck-sashes, only a Dick and a dollop!” Ann also notes that the women dress strangely, and it’s unlike anything she’s ever seen before. After noticing that all of the food at the restaurant looks slightly different than what they’re used to, they learn that they are actually in the town of Costa, in the state of West Goodland, in the country of Continental Federation. The language they are speaking is called Federal, and the cash they are using appears to be counterfeit. Although Jeff and Ann believed they would be returning to the exact same world they knew six years ago when Ann’s father was alive and he lived with them, they were misled by Snader. The couple was actually taken to a different dimension where events have unfolded in completely different ways.\n",
"The first setting is 1957 in a small, crowded, noisy, and hot restaurant. Jeff and Ann are having dinner, and Snader’s table is near enough that he can overhear the couple talking. This enables him to join their conversation and eventually lure them into time travel.\nSnader takes the Elliotts to the second setting, the station where he begins their time travel. The station is located in a mid-sized house in a middle-class neighborhood. Lights are glowing in the windows as they arrive, and outside they can hear the traffic on the boulevard a few blocks away. It is dusk, the weather is warm, and Jeff can see the mountains on the horizon. Snader unlocks the door, and they are greeted by a man at a desk in the hallway who sends them to another room. \nThis room is the station. A sign with the number 701 hangs from the middle of the ceiling, and there are two big screens like movies screens hanging on one wall, showing movement through a corridor with rows of seats like a railroad car. There are easy chairs along the walls, making it look like a doctor’s office waiting room. \nWhen they enter the screen, they are in the chair-lined corridor. Snader tells the Elliotts to sit, and they face a screen like the one in the room they had just left. The image on the screen makes it look as if they are racing through a dark tunnel toward a light at the far end. As they approach the light, they see a room like 701, but this one is 702. They exit at room 725 by stepping through the screen.\nStation 725 looks much like 701, but when they leave the room, there is a motherly old lady outside. Snader tells them they aren’t there for lodging, and they leave the house. Outside, Jeff notices his car is missing. Snader tells him it’s in the future. The street outside the house has different trees and houses than he remembered in the neighborhood with the 701 station. Telephone poles and streetlights also seem different. As the limousine pulls away from the curb, Jeff makes it a point to remember the street name, Green Thru-Way, and the block number, 800. Ann notices bars on the windows of the house. The limo heads onto a freeway where the boulevard should be, but the mountains are the same as always. Signs are unfamiliar and have strange wording like Rite Channel for Creepers and Yaw for Torrey Rushway.\nSnader takes the Elliotts to an apartment building near a shopping center with bright lights and lots of shoppers, neither of which are familiar. Snader escorts them inside the apartment building, riding the elevator to the sixth floor and traversing a heavily carpeted hallway with soft gold lights. Later they eat at a restaurant with unfamiliar food names and monetary units; their check is for 1/20. Finally, the Elliotts are imprisoned in a jail with smelly cells.\n\n",
"The story starts in a restaurant, but quickly moves to a house that is known as the 4-D Travel Beuro. This is a fairly typical, mid-range house of average size in a good neighborhood, which keeps it from sticking out in any way because nobody would be suspicious of it. Inside the house there are a number of ornate rooms locked behind closed doors, guarded by a bureau agent known as Peter Powers. Behind one of these doors is the room that serves as station 701 on this particular time groove, that has two large screens that show moving images of people who seem to be aware of the people standing in the room. People can easily step into these rooms and find themselves traveling on a time groove, and this is how Jeff and Ann travel to the time Snader is from. Once they have traveled through time, they expect to see the same suburban neighborhood but much of the context has changed: a different highway, different cars, and different houses. The people in this time use different currency and have different vocabulary than the people Jeff and Ann are used to. After some time in lockup, Jeff and Ann also encounter an apartment building. On the sixth floor of this building, they meet the man who hired Snader to find Jeff. There is an ornate drawing room where Jeff and Ann have a meeting with Septo Kersey and a man named Bullen who are hoping they can use Jeff's expertise to move ahead of the technological developments of their own time. Refusing to help, Jeff and Ann leave and are eventually captured for not having legal money, and the story ends with them in a holding cell at a local police station."
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space ship. We've enough concentrated supplies to last for a year. How far do we go? Why? When?" They stepped upon the Earth and felt the warmth of the sun and strolled toward the top of the hill. "The air smells clean," he said. "The ground feels good. I think I'll take off my shoes." She did. "Take off your boots, Michael. Try it." Wearily he pulled off his boots, stood in his bare feet. "It takes me back." "Yes," she said and began walking toward the hilltop. He followed, his boots slung around his neck. "There was a road
An elaborate description of the boy in great detail followed, ending with blood type, agglutinating characteristic, and gene-pattern, codified. Walton skipped impatiently through that and came to the notification typed in curt, impersonal green capital letters at the bottom of the card: EXAMINED AT N Y EUTH CLINIC 10 JUNE 2332 EUTHANASIA RECOMMENDED He glanced at his watch: the time was 1026. The boy was probably still somewhere in the clinic lab, waiting for the figurative axe to descend. Walton had set up the schedule himself: the gas chamber delivered Happysleep each day at 1100 and 1500. He had about
somewhere, with the dust between my toes. Or was it a dream?" "I guess when the past is old enough," she said, "it becomes a dream." He watched her footprints in the dust. "God, listen to the quiet." "I can't seem to remember so much quiet around me. There's always been the sound of a space ship, or the pumps back in the cities." He did not answer but continued to watch her footsteps and to feel the dust squishing up between his toes. Then suddenly: "Mary!" She stopped, whirling around. He was staring down at her feet. She followed
Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science Fiction June 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. THE VALLEY By Richard Stockham Illustrated by Ed Emsh If you can't find it countless millions of miles in space, come back to Earth. You might find it just on the other side of the fence—where the grass is always greener. The Ship dove into Earth's sea of atmosphere like a great, silver fish. Inside the ship, a man and woman stood looking down at the expanse of land that
the uneven terrain. "Oh, the bag!" she gasped. "I've dropped it." He chuckled again. "Have got. You scare, I catch." She didn't see the ship because of the wind in her eyes, but without warning she plummeted down and her feet jarred on the lip of the lock. "Inside. No noise, no light. Easy." But in spite of his warning she tripped in the darkness. He helped her from the floor and guided her to the hammocks. "Judith?" she asked. "Here. Beside you, trussed up so tight I can hardly breathe." "No talk!" Rat insisted. "Much hush-hush needed. Other girl
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What is Gurn's role in the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Raiders of the Second Moon by Basil Wells.
Relevant chunks:
meaning now. It was a question of which set of conquering heroes could conquer the most space first. So far, only Venus had fallen. They had done a good, thorough job there. Four ships had come to Mars and their crews had disappeared. This was the fifth attempt— Terrence said, "why did you shoot Doran?" "I didn't like him enough to take the nonsense he was handing me, and when he shot the—" Bruce hesitated. "What? When he shot what?" Bruce felt an odd tingling in his stomach. The wind's voice seemed to sharpen and rise to a kind of
was not strong enough, and the engulfing heat was drifting down from the cliffs even as he was half across the valley. Flowers were burnt into effigies, grasses sucked back into rocks like singed snakes, flower seeds whirled and fell in the sudden furnace blast of wind, sown far into gullies and crannies, ready to blossom at sunset tonight, and then go to seed and die again. Sim's father watched that child running, alone, out on the floor of the valley. He and his wife and Dark and Sim were safe in the mouth of their tunnel. "He'll never make
I, the Unspeakable By WALT SHELDON Illustrated by LOUIS MARCHETTI [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction April 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] "What's in a name?" might be very dangerous to ask in certain societies, in which sticks and stones are also a big problem! I fought to be awake. I was dreaming, but I think I must have blushed. I must have blushed in my sleep. " Do it! " she said. " Please do it! For me! " It was the voice
THE HANGING STRANGER BY PHILIP K. DICK ILLUSTRATED BY SMITH [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Science Fiction Adventures Magazine December 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Ed had always been a practical man, when he saw something was wrong he tried to correct it. Then one day he saw it hanging in the town square. Five o'clock Ed Loyce washed up, tossed on his hat and coat, got his car out and headed across town toward his TV sales store. He was tired. His back and shoulders
at his own wife and child. This day was an eighth part of his total life! He must enjoy every second of it. He must search his parents' thoughts for knowledge. Because in a few hours they'd be dead. This was so impossibly unfair. Was this all of life? In his prenatal state hadn't he dreamed of long lives, valleys not of blasted stone but green foliage and temperate clime? Yes! And if he'd dreamed then there must be truth in the visions. How could he seek and find the long life? Where? And how could he accomplish a life
Question:
What is Gurn's role in the story?
Answer:
|
[
"We first hear Gurn's name mentioned by Noork in his initial meeting with Sarna. He tells her that he has been living with the wild Vasads of the jungle with Gurn, his friend and their chief. Noork goes on to say that Gurn is an exile from the walled city of Grath and asks Sarna if she knows why this is. Sarna says that her brother says they should no longer enslave Zurans they capture from other valleys. In this way, their relationships with Gurn build a bridge between them, allowing them to consider a relationship with one another.\n\nGurn is next mentioned when Noork encounters his friend Ud near the central lake of Sekk, the moon they are on. Noork asks Ud to go to their mutual friend Gurn and pass on a message. Noork asks Ud to tell Gurn that the Misty Ones can be trapped and skinned. When Ud wonders why anyone would want to do such a thing, Noork tells him that Noork is trying to save Gurn's \"father's woman woman\", as he describes Gurn's sister Sarna.\n\nGurn then arrives as something between a hero and a deus ex machina at the very end of the story. Noork, Sarna, and Rold, an enslaved man who helped Noork free Sarna, are about to be murdered by Doctor Von Mark and the Misty Ones, when Gurn and his allies arrive and shoot the enemy full of arrows, saving all their lives. Gurn reveals that he received Ud's messages and they were trapping the Misty Ones as they came across the lake and stealing their robes so they could come to Noork's rescue. Without Gurn, Noork and Sarna would never have traveled together in the first place, nor would they have been rescued at the end.",
"Gurn is described as a renegade and the leader of the Vasad, a hairy people living in the jungle on Sekk. He is tall, strong, golden-skinned, and has proven to be a friend to Noork. He wears bracelets connected by human hair. He has been exiled from the city of Grath because he spoke out against keeping the captured people from other valleys as slaves. He is Sarna’s brother, and she seems to trust Noork more when he mentions Gurn. After he and Sarna are attacked, Noork passes a message to another Vasad, Ud, to tell Gurn that the “misty people” they fear can be killed and their skins used to conceal them, and that he’s going to save Sarna. Later, after Noork and Sarna are captured by the Nazi Doctor Von Mark, Gurn and some warriors show up just in time to save them. \n",
"Gurn is Tholon Sarna’s brother and the leader of a group of Vasads. He is tall and strong, wears a bracelet made of gold discs linked together with human hair, and talks with his own shadow when he thinks. Gurn was exiled from the city of Grath, whose leaders called him a traitor for voicing his opinion that they should not make their captured Zurans slaves. When Noork leaves to rescue Tholon from the Misty Ones, he sends word to Gurn via Ud that the Misty Ones are not demons but flesh and bone beings who can be trapped and skinned and that he is going to rescue Gurn’s sister from the Misty Ones. At the end of the story, when Von Mark and his men have captured Noork, Tholon, and Rold, Gurn and his men arrive and pelt the Waris with arrows to rescue Noork and the others. Gurn and his men had been trapping Misty Ones on their way to the Misty Ones’ city of Uzdon to rescue Noork when they came across Von Mark and the Waris holding Noork and the others. ",
"Gurn is the golden-skinned leader of the Vasads and Tholon Sarna’s brother. Gurn discovers Noork when he first lands on Sekk and reminds him that he has not always lived in the valleys of the moon. As leader of the Vasads, Gurn has been exiled from his home city of Grath for speaking out against the enslavement of the people of Zura. Gurn and the Vasads fear the Misty Ones that make sacrifices to Uzdon at the Temple of the Skull, believing they are gods or demons. When Noork discovers the Misty Ones can be shed of their invisibility, he sends his friend Ud to inform Gurn. Upon hearing this news, Gurn brings the Vasads to rescue his sister, Tholon Sarna, and they arrive just in time to prevent Dr. Von Mark from killing Noork. Instead, Gurn kills Dr. Von Mark by shooting him with arrows, and Noork decides to live in peace with him, the Vasads, and Tholon Sarna."
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meaning now. It was a question of which set of conquering heroes could conquer the most space first. So far, only Venus had fallen. They had done a good, thorough job there. Four ships had come to Mars and their crews had disappeared. This was the fifth attempt— Terrence said, "why did you shoot Doran?" "I didn't like him enough to take the nonsense he was handing me, and when he shot the—" Bruce hesitated. "What? When he shot what?" Bruce felt an odd tingling in his stomach. The wind's voice seemed to sharpen and rise to a kind of
was not strong enough, and the engulfing heat was drifting down from the cliffs even as he was half across the valley. Flowers were burnt into effigies, grasses sucked back into rocks like singed snakes, flower seeds whirled and fell in the sudden furnace blast of wind, sown far into gullies and crannies, ready to blossom at sunset tonight, and then go to seed and die again. Sim's father watched that child running, alone, out on the floor of the valley. He and his wife and Dark and Sim were safe in the mouth of their tunnel. "He'll never make
I, the Unspeakable By WALT SHELDON Illustrated by LOUIS MARCHETTI [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction April 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] "What's in a name?" might be very dangerous to ask in certain societies, in which sticks and stones are also a big problem! I fought to be awake. I was dreaming, but I think I must have blushed. I must have blushed in my sleep. " Do it! " she said. " Please do it! For me! " It was the voice
THE HANGING STRANGER BY PHILIP K. DICK ILLUSTRATED BY SMITH [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Science Fiction Adventures Magazine December 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Ed had always been a practical man, when he saw something was wrong he tried to correct it. Then one day he saw it hanging in the town square. Five o'clock Ed Loyce washed up, tossed on his hat and coat, got his car out and headed across town toward his TV sales store. He was tired. His back and shoulders
at his own wife and child. This day was an eighth part of his total life! He must enjoy every second of it. He must search his parents' thoughts for knowledge. Because in a few hours they'd be dead. This was so impossibly unfair. Was this all of life? In his prenatal state hadn't he dreamed of long lives, valleys not of blasted stone but green foliage and temperate clime? Yes! And if he'd dreamed then there must be truth in the visions. How could he seek and find the long life? Where? And how could he accomplish a life
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Who is Fred Walton, and what is his significance in the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Master of Life and Death by Robert Silverberg.
Relevant chunks:
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
A wayfarer's return from a far country to his wife and family may be a shining experience, a kind of second honeymoon. Or it may be so shadowed by Time's relentless tyranny that the changes which have occurred in his absence can lead only to tragedy and despair. This rarely discerning, warmly human story by a brilliant newcomer to the science fantasy field is told with no pulling of punches, and its adroit unfolding will astound you. the hoofer by ... Walter M. Miller, Jr. A space rover has no business with a family. But what can a man in
man could. Silently the two men watched. Dobbin's eyes opened suddenly and a tremor seized his body. He turned painfully and looked at Willard. "I saw it!" his voice cracked, trembling. "Saw what?" "It's true! It's true! It comes whenever a space man dies! It's there!" "In heaven's name, Dobbin," Willard demanded, "What do you see? What is it?" Dobbin lifted his dark bony arm and pointed out into star-studded space. "The Ghost Ship!" Something clicked in Willard's memory. He had heard it spoken of in whispers by drunken space men and professional tellers of fairy tales. But he had
ago? I sensed that my own stream of life had somehow crossed with his in ages gone by. How? Who can ever know? By what faded charts of the movements through the sky will man ever be able to retrace relationships of forms of life among planets? "Get ready to go out and meet him, Campbell," I said. "He's a friend." Split Campbell gave me a look as if to say, Sir, you don't even know what sort of animal he is, actually, much less whether he's friendly or murderous. "There are some things I can sense on first sight,
Question:
Who is Fred Walton, and what is his significance in the story?
Answer:
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[
"Fred Walton is the brother of Roy Walton, Assistant Administrator of the Bureau of Population Equalization. Fred Walton is a physician with a vaguely unsuccessful career history: medical school, a failed private practice, and finally becoming a doctor in the euthanizing section of Bureau of Population Equalization (or Popeek) thanks to his brother. Their childhood was tense and difficult. They were orphaned at 7 and 9 respectively when their parents died in a jet crash. Fred Walton and Roy have a very contentious relationship now, shown through Roy’s hindrance to visiting his brother when in his section of the building. \nFred Walton is significant because he discovered what Roy Walton had done after breaking into the office computers and looking up confidential information. He uses his knowledge of Roy’s felony and leverages it over his head. Essentially, he offers an ultimatum: Fred will keep quiet, so long as Roy does too. Plus, Roy now owes Fred. \n",
"Fred Walton is the younger brother of Roy Walton, the assistant administrator of the Bureau of Population Equalization (Popeek). The brothers are not close—they have never been. Fred always told Roy he would get even with him when they were the same size, but he never caught up to Roy’s height when they were younger. When they were seven and nine, their parents died in a jet crash, and the boys were placed in public care facilities. Afterward, they went in different directions, Roy to study law and Fred to study medicine. Fred had opened his private medical practice but wasn’t successful, and Roy got him the job in the Happysleep section of Popeek. When Roy visits the Euthanasia Clinic, he asks if Fred is there but learns he is working on analyses, so he doesn’t disturb him. Later, when Fred learns that Roy had been there, he is curious about what his brother was doing and requests a transcript of his work with the computer. Roy reminds Fred that doing so is a criminal offense, and Fred reminds him that makes the two of them criminals. Fred tells Roy he won’t say anything about what Roy did and says they are even now. However, Roy now worries about what Fred will do. It is entirely possible that Fred will hold this knowledge over Roy’s head in the future and use it to blackmail Roy. Fred undermines Roy's hope of getting away with what he had done.\n",
"Fred Walton is a doctor who works for the Bureau of Population Equalization, and is the younger brother of Roy Walton, the assistant director of the bureau. He is built bigger than Roy and over half a foot shorter. The two of them lived together with their parents until Roy was nine and Fred was seven years of age, but once their parents died in a plane crash, they led separate lives--eventually, Roy had gotten Fred his job with Happysleep, which reconnected them in some way. Fred noticed that Roy had been poking around the computer system when he visited the clinic, and took a look at what Roy had been doing. Fred confronted Roy about what had happened, which made Roy realize how dangerous of a situation this was, and that it could be escalating quickly now that both of them had committed criminal offenses. ",
"Fred Walton is Roy's younger brother, and he works as a doctor in the Euthanasia Clinic at Popeek. They do not like each other very much. When Roy was nine and Fred was seven, their parents died in a plane crash off Maracaibo, and they had been sent to live in a nursery. Roy received a law education and served as FitzMaugham's private secretary back when he was a senator. Fred studied medicine and spent some time in a failed private practice until Roy got him the job at Popeek. Fred is smaller than Roy at 5'7\" and compact. Roy believes that Fred's inability to catch up with Roy's height explains at least some of the resentment he harbors against him. When Fred calls him in his office after Roy returns from editing Philip Prior's record, Roy knows he is in trouble because Fred never calls unless he has something unpleasant to say. Fred reveals he had read through the history of Roy's use of the clinic's computer and suggests he knows exactly what he did to save Philip. However, he decides not to tell FitzMaugham because Roy had secured his position at the clinic for him. He decides to call it even."
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course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
A wayfarer's return from a far country to his wife and family may be a shining experience, a kind of second honeymoon. Or it may be so shadowed by Time's relentless tyranny that the changes which have occurred in his absence can lead only to tragedy and despair. This rarely discerning, warmly human story by a brilliant newcomer to the science fantasy field is told with no pulling of punches, and its adroit unfolding will astound you. the hoofer by ... Walter M. Miller, Jr. A space rover has no business with a family. But what can a man in
man could. Silently the two men watched. Dobbin's eyes opened suddenly and a tremor seized his body. He turned painfully and looked at Willard. "I saw it!" his voice cracked, trembling. "Saw what?" "It's true! It's true! It comes whenever a space man dies! It's there!" "In heaven's name, Dobbin," Willard demanded, "What do you see? What is it?" Dobbin lifted his dark bony arm and pointed out into star-studded space. "The Ghost Ship!" Something clicked in Willard's memory. He had heard it spoken of in whispers by drunken space men and professional tellers of fairy tales. But he had
ago? I sensed that my own stream of life had somehow crossed with his in ages gone by. How? Who can ever know? By what faded charts of the movements through the sky will man ever be able to retrace relationships of forms of life among planets? "Get ready to go out and meet him, Campbell," I said. "He's a friend." Split Campbell gave me a look as if to say, Sir, you don't even know what sort of animal he is, actually, much less whether he's friendly or murderous. "There are some things I can sense on first sight,
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What is the significance of the mountain?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Highest Mountain by Bryce Walton.
Relevant chunks:
space ship. We've enough concentrated supplies to last for a year. How far do we go? Why? When?" They stepped upon the Earth and felt the warmth of the sun and strolled toward the top of the hill. "The air smells clean," he said. "The ground feels good. I think I'll take off my shoes." She did. "Take off your boots, Michael. Try it." Wearily he pulled off his boots, stood in his bare feet. "It takes me back." "Yes," she said and began walking toward the hilltop. He followed, his boots slung around his neck. "There was a road
touched the water to his lips. It was cool and satisfying. He drank it, convinced completely. Eric asked, "And I am to destroy the City?" "Yes. The time has come." "But why?" Eric demanded. For an instant he could see the twinkling beauty as clearly as if he had stood outside the walls of this building. Kroon said, "There are difficulties. The machine builds according to the mass will of the people, though it is sensitive to the individual in areas where it does not conflict with the imagination of the mass. We have had strangers, visitors, and even our
his. They ran down the gentle slope, feeling the patches of green touch their feet, smelling a new freshness in the air. And coming to the little spring, they stood beside it and watched the crystal water that trickled along the valley floor and lost itself around a bend. They saw a furry, little animal scurry away and heard the twitter of a bird and saw it resting on a slim, bending branch. They heard the buzz of a bee, saw it light on a pale flower at their feet and work at the sweetness inside. Mary knelt down and
his gaze. "It's grass!" He bent down. "Three blades." She knelt beside him. They touched the green blades. "They're new," he said. They stared, like religious devotees concentrating upon some sacred object. He rose, pulling her up with him. They hurried to the top of the hill and stood very still, looking down into a valley. There were tiny patches of green and little trees sprouting, and here and there, a pale flower. The green was in a cluster, in the center of the valley and there was a tiny glint of sunlight in its center. "Oh!" Her hand found
Varius II, a civilization as old as Earth's. Did whoever built these get to Varius? Or did they get to Earth? How can you know?" He kicked at the sand distractedly. "And most important, where are they now? A race with several thousand years...." "Fifteen thousand," Ball said. When Steffens looked up, he added: "That's what the geology boys say. Fifteen thousand, at the least." Steffens turned to stare unhappily at the buildings. When he realized now how really old they were, a sudden thought struck him. "But why buildings? Why did they have to build in stone, to last?
Question:
What is the significance of the mountain?
Answer:
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[
"The mountain is a sign of an impossible obstacle that the conquerors from Earth want to overcome, topple. Their urge to expand their territories and own the entire Solar System forces the Martians to come up with an illusion of something that can stop the destruction humans are spreading. The Martian mountain is a part of the hypnotic vision the conquered had access to, but they never saw the Martian city. They all ultimately died trying to climb it, from their drive to conquer everything they could find. The mountain is a perfect symbol of humans’ greed for territories and power, and it is also what stops them all from expanding their so-called empire. ",
"The mountain is significant because it is the ultimate challenge that the Martians laid out for the humans. Since they are aware of the Conquerors and horrors on Venus, the mountain is an illusion that was made to stop the humans and let only the good ones live. Helene explains that the people on Earth will get the opportunity to live on Mars too, but the terrible ones must be destroyed so that civilization can be preserved on Mars. Even though everybody wants to scale the mountain in hopes of finding some sort of new discovery or territory for the totalitarian Earth, the mountain serves as a trap that kills all of the ones who try to conquer it. The mountain is what also hides the Martian world away, only fading away when there is only one sane human from each crew left. ",
"The mountain, placed there intentionally by the Martians, acted as a test for the Conquerers. Most of the people coming from Earth had a will to conquer, and the Mountain served as a physical manifestation of this desire. It becomes evident throughout the climb that the Mountain continuously rises above the initial estimate, and yet humans overtaken by their desire to conquer this will continue to stride on. By doing so, they have failed the test. \n\nIt is significant because it demonstrates the supposedly innate and greedy determination of humans to be the Conquerer and be at the top - figuratively and literally. Even when a task seems improbable, a human's ego will feed this determination. This will to conquer that is fuelled without reason or morality. And it's only through this test that the Martians are able to identify which humans do not have this senseless will, that they are rewarded with the supposed oasis that the Conquers themselves desired to take over. ",
"The mountain symbolizes a challenge to be conquered. It plays a significant role in the story as every Earthmen coming from Earth with the will of conquest would climb the mountain. The mountain is very high that Earthmen can see it from the space and that Earthmen with the will of domination would want to climb to the top, which they will never succeed. Everyone who climbs the mountain will eventually die as it is a hypnotic-like phenomenon, which cannot be described in human language, created by Martians. Martians make this mountain because they know that Earthmen with the will of conquest cannot bear not to climb it since they enjoy the feeling of belittling others and the power of conquering, which is shown through their actions of killing anything or anyone in their ways even though those killed species may not have any intention to harm them. The story also plays a crucial role in distinguishing between people with the will to conquest and people who has no desire to conquer. Those who have no will to dominate will not climb the mountain, and they will be sent to the reality of Mars, where everything is adorable and peaceful. In the story, only four people out of five flights can get to the Martian reality, which again shows the significance of the mountain. Using the mountain phenomenon, Martian will be able to stop the Earthmen’s interplanetary conquest that Mars will be the furthest they can reach as they will keep climbing the mountain until they die."
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space ship. We've enough concentrated supplies to last for a year. How far do we go? Why? When?" They stepped upon the Earth and felt the warmth of the sun and strolled toward the top of the hill. "The air smells clean," he said. "The ground feels good. I think I'll take off my shoes." She did. "Take off your boots, Michael. Try it." Wearily he pulled off his boots, stood in his bare feet. "It takes me back." "Yes," she said and began walking toward the hilltop. He followed, his boots slung around his neck. "There was a road
touched the water to his lips. It was cool and satisfying. He drank it, convinced completely. Eric asked, "And I am to destroy the City?" "Yes. The time has come." "But why?" Eric demanded. For an instant he could see the twinkling beauty as clearly as if he had stood outside the walls of this building. Kroon said, "There are difficulties. The machine builds according to the mass will of the people, though it is sensitive to the individual in areas where it does not conflict with the imagination of the mass. We have had strangers, visitors, and even our
his. They ran down the gentle slope, feeling the patches of green touch their feet, smelling a new freshness in the air. And coming to the little spring, they stood beside it and watched the crystal water that trickled along the valley floor and lost itself around a bend. They saw a furry, little animal scurry away and heard the twitter of a bird and saw it resting on a slim, bending branch. They heard the buzz of a bee, saw it light on a pale flower at their feet and work at the sweetness inside. Mary knelt down and
his gaze. "It's grass!" He bent down. "Three blades." She knelt beside him. They touched the green blades. "They're new," he said. They stared, like religious devotees concentrating upon some sacred object. He rose, pulling her up with him. They hurried to the top of the hill and stood very still, looking down into a valley. There were tiny patches of green and little trees sprouting, and here and there, a pale flower. The green was in a cluster, in the center of the valley and there was a tiny glint of sunlight in its center. "Oh!" Her hand found
Varius II, a civilization as old as Earth's. Did whoever built these get to Varius? Or did they get to Earth? How can you know?" He kicked at the sand distractedly. "And most important, where are they now? A race with several thousand years...." "Fifteen thousand," Ball said. When Steffens looked up, he added: "That's what the geology boys say. Fifteen thousand, at the least." Steffens turned to stare unhappily at the buildings. When he realized now how really old they were, a sudden thought struck him. "But why buildings? Why did they have to build in stone, to last?
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What is the setting of the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about THE CREATURES THAT TIME FORGOT by RAY BRADBURY.
Relevant chunks:
aunts tell me I was born there in the middle of the war." "What war?" he asked startledly, spilling some lemonade. "The World War, of course. What's the matter?" Jack Barr was staring down at the spilled lemonade and feeling a kind of terror he'd never experienced in his waking life. Nothing around him had changed. He could still feel the same hot sun on his shoulders, the same icy glass in his hand, scent the same lemon-acid odor in his nostrils. He could still hear the faint chop-chop of the waves. And yet everything had changed, gone dark and
"Well," he said, "before you kill me, tell me about the book." He held it up for Maota to see. "What about the book?" "What kind of book is it?" "What does Mr. Earthgod mean, what kind of book? You have seen it. It is like any other book, except for the material and the fact that it talks." "No, no. I mean, what's in it?" "Poetry." "Poetry? For God's sake, why poetry? Why not mathematics or history? Why not tell how to make the metal of the book itself? Now there is a subject worthy of a book." Maota
events of the day before dropping off to sleep. The troublesome Sally. The strange dream world of Armagon. The visit to the barber shop. The removal of Brundage's body. The conversations with the townspeople. Dawes' suspicious attitude ... Then sleep came. He was flanked by marble pillars, thrusting towards a high-domed ceiling. The room stretched long and wide before him, the walls bedecked in stunning purple draperies. He whirled at the sound of footsteps, echoing stridently on the stone floor. Someone was running towards him. It was Sally, pigtails streaming out behind her, the small body wearing a flowing white
tightening of the man's shoulder muscles that his presence was known. He looked down and saw that his feet made clear-cut depressions in the soft rich soil of the field. "Continue to work," he said to the young man. "Do not be too surprised at what I am about to tell you, Rold." He paused and watched the golden man's rather stupid face intently. "I am not a Misty One," Noork said. "I killed the owner of this strange garment I wear yesterday on the mainland. I have come to rescue the girl, Tholon Sarna, of whom you spoke." Rold's
the people there know nothing of a Lincoln or that war." Jeff looked blank. "What are they doing then?" The little man spread his hands. "What are the people doing now at Sixth and Main? Certainly not the same things they were doing the day of the fire. We're talking about a dimension, not an event. Don't you grasp the difference between the two?" "Nope. To me, 1865 means the end of the Civil War. How else can you speak of a point in time except by the events that happened then?" "Well, if you go to a place in
Question:
What is the setting of the story?
Answer:
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[
"The story begins at night when Sim is born. He and his family are inside of the cold cave. The cave had a thick fog in it that originally obscured his dad from view. The cave is where people on the planet spend most of their time. During the two hours of the day that they are able to venture out into the valley, they enjoy the beautiful scenery of greenery until they have to return to their cave tunnels. When the time is up, the sun returns and its rays scorch and kill everything in the valley. ",
"The story begins in a dark cave with a family within. The parents look old, the father threatens his newborn son with a knife, and the only thing the little boy and his sister do is eating. In the tunnel behind old people are dying. The planet is dangerous, it's extremely hot and the sun burns everything during the day, and the nights are cold with ice. Only at dawn and sunset the temperatures are normal and people can go outside. At these times the planet is beautiful and fruitful. When the sun appears or disappears the people hurry to the caves in the cliffs, otherwise, they die in a second outside. The temperature inside the caves is normal. There are metal pieces of seeds far away, most of the ships are broken, but one is known to be still functioning, though it's far away. ",
"The story takes place on an unknown planet near the sun. The planet has dangerous radiation and weather for the majority of the day, so much of the story is set inside a cave where humans seek refuge. The cave is barren and cold, made only of stone. At dawn and sunset, the people are able to go out into the valley, where plants grow, fruits bloom, rivers thaw, and animals roam. The few minutes of lush, natural life on the planet are cherished by the characters in the story, but they always return to the cave to avoid radiation.",
"The story is set on a planet that is practically uninhabitable. The nights burn with cold, and the days feel like torches of fire. Because of this, the people must live in caves to stay alive. When dawn and sunset come, however, the entire planet blossoms with life, the air becomes breath-sweet and flower-strong. The ice thaws, and the fires die off too. All of the animals come out as well to enjoy what little life they can. There are avalanches, too, mostly consisting of stones that have been biding their time. In Sim’s vision, there is a large metal spaceship just beyond the valley. He believes that it is the key to saving all of the people. When dawn comes, all of the plants flower, and pale green tendrils appear on rocks. There is also plenty of fruit to go around in that short time period. "
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aunts tell me I was born there in the middle of the war." "What war?" he asked startledly, spilling some lemonade. "The World War, of course. What's the matter?" Jack Barr was staring down at the spilled lemonade and feeling a kind of terror he'd never experienced in his waking life. Nothing around him had changed. He could still feel the same hot sun on his shoulders, the same icy glass in his hand, scent the same lemon-acid odor in his nostrils. He could still hear the faint chop-chop of the waves. And yet everything had changed, gone dark and
"Well," he said, "before you kill me, tell me about the book." He held it up for Maota to see. "What about the book?" "What kind of book is it?" "What does Mr. Earthgod mean, what kind of book? You have seen it. It is like any other book, except for the material and the fact that it talks." "No, no. I mean, what's in it?" "Poetry." "Poetry? For God's sake, why poetry? Why not mathematics or history? Why not tell how to make the metal of the book itself? Now there is a subject worthy of a book." Maota
events of the day before dropping off to sleep. The troublesome Sally. The strange dream world of Armagon. The visit to the barber shop. The removal of Brundage's body. The conversations with the townspeople. Dawes' suspicious attitude ... Then sleep came. He was flanked by marble pillars, thrusting towards a high-domed ceiling. The room stretched long and wide before him, the walls bedecked in stunning purple draperies. He whirled at the sound of footsteps, echoing stridently on the stone floor. Someone was running towards him. It was Sally, pigtails streaming out behind her, the small body wearing a flowing white
tightening of the man's shoulder muscles that his presence was known. He looked down and saw that his feet made clear-cut depressions in the soft rich soil of the field. "Continue to work," he said to the young man. "Do not be too surprised at what I am about to tell you, Rold." He paused and watched the golden man's rather stupid face intently. "I am not a Misty One," Noork said. "I killed the owner of this strange garment I wear yesterday on the mainland. I have come to rescue the girl, Tholon Sarna, of whom you spoke." Rold's
the people there know nothing of a Lincoln or that war." Jeff looked blank. "What are they doing then?" The little man spread his hands. "What are the people doing now at Sixth and Main? Certainly not the same things they were doing the day of the fire. We're talking about a dimension, not an event. Don't you grasp the difference between the two?" "Nope. To me, 1865 means the end of the Civil War. How else can you speak of a point in time except by the events that happened then?" "Well, if you go to a place in
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What are some odd things that happened in the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Girls From Earth by Frank M. Robinson.
Relevant chunks:
events of the day before dropping off to sleep. The troublesome Sally. The strange dream world of Armagon. The visit to the barber shop. The removal of Brundage's body. The conversations with the townspeople. Dawes' suspicious attitude ... Then sleep came. He was flanked by marble pillars, thrusting towards a high-domed ceiling. The room stretched long and wide before him, the walls bedecked in stunning purple draperies. He whirled at the sound of footsteps, echoing stridently on the stone floor. Someone was running towards him. It was Sally, pigtails streaming out behind her, the small body wearing a flowing white
up. It was light, much lighter than most Earth books. He ran a hand over the binding. Smooth it was, untouched by time or climate. He squinted at the pages, tilting the book to catch the bright moonlight, but the writing was alien. He touched the page, ran his forefinger over the writing. Suddenly he sprang back. The book fell from his hands. "God in heaven!" he exclaimed. He had heard a voice. He looked around at the old buildings, down the length of the ancient street. Something strange about the voice. Not Maota. Not his tones. Not his words.
the ship's mechanical diagnostician. His report followed: ARM SWOLLEN. UNABLE TO KEEP DOWN FOOD LAST TWELVE HOURS. ABOUT TWO HOURS AGO, ENTIRE BODY TURNED LIVID RED. BRIEF PERIODS OF BLANKNESS. THINGS KEEP COMING AND GOING. SICK AS HELL. HURRY. SMOKY The ship's next message read: INFECTION QUITE DEFINITE. BUT SOMETHING STRANGE THERE. GIVE US ANYTHING MORE YOU HAVE. SS II His own reply perplexed Kaiser: LAST LETTER FUNNY. I NOT UNDERSTAND. WHY IS OO SENDING GARBLE TALK? DID USNS MAKE UP SECRET MESSAGES? SMOKY The expedition, apparently, was as puzzled as he: WHAT'S THE MATTER, SMOKY? THAT LAST MESSAGE WAS
aunts tell me I was born there in the middle of the war." "What war?" he asked startledly, spilling some lemonade. "The World War, of course. What's the matter?" Jack Barr was staring down at the spilled lemonade and feeling a kind of terror he'd never experienced in his waking life. Nothing around him had changed. He could still feel the same hot sun on his shoulders, the same icy glass in his hand, scent the same lemon-acid odor in his nostrils. He could still hear the faint chop-chop of the waves. And yet everything had changed, gone dark and
Satisfied that no one was near, he stooped and picked up the book again. "Good God!" he said aloud. It was the book talking. His fingers had touched the writing again. It was not a voice, exactly, but a stirring in his mind, like a strange language heard for the first time. A talking book. What other surprises were in the city? Tall, fragile buildings laughing at time and weather. A clock measuring God-knows-what. If such wonders remained, what about those already destroyed? One could only guess at the machines, the gadgets, the artistry already decayed and blown away to
Question:
What are some odd things that happened in the story?
Answer:
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[
"Phyllis Hanson has been wanting a husband and a family for almost three years. She does not think that the bridge games and benefits and lectures can replace a husband and family. However, in her mail today, she gets a poster that tells her to come to the colonies. This is clearly a violation of her privacy. However, the man on the poster is very handsome, and she looks at it again and again. Though she admires the man on the poster, she still writes a letter reporting it. Then Ruby Johnson also goes through something strange. She steals a beautiful gown from the store and then gets caught. She knows that she will simply face a small fine along with a few weeks or months in detention because she was caught stealing dress from the . However, to her surprised, she is told that she be charged with a 10,000 dollar fine along with ten years in prison, or she can choose to go to a colony planet and get a five-hundred-dollar bonus. She is shocked, but chooses the latter. Similarly, Suzanne is given a similar choice between shipping out to the colony or going to jail after receiving a phone call telling her to get to a specific place. She also chooses the colony planet. ",
"MacDonald notes that because of the higher population of women on Earth than men, a lot stricter laws have been enacted. An example includes a prohibition of alcohol from being used in everyday items such as cough medicines and hair tonics. In addition, there are laws against violating a women’s privacy and a purity related moral code. An example of a privacy violation is when a woman asks Phyllis Hanson about her plans for the night. ",
"One of the odd things that happen in the story is the whole process of pairing up a husband and wife. The system is based on numbers as first impressions; although this seems to be an efficient way, Karl notices that there is almost no time for him and his future wife to get acquainted with one another. This is rather odd because many of them want to marry for love, yet the system caters to an arranged marriage rather than a natural relationship. Hill even brings up trading women if they are not satisfied with who they get.\n\nAnother odd occurrence in the story is how both men and women do not want to emigrate to the colonies. There are clearly more men in the colonies, yet many choose to stay on Earth because more women are there. None of the women want to go either; if they decide to leave Earth to colonize, it will be the same as giving up their luxurious, modern civilization to fight disease. \n",
"There are many odd things that happen in the story. The story itself is quite odd in form. It jumps from different times in one linear storyline, beginning at the end, and ending towards the beginning. It is also quite odd that the two men on the colonised planet think that women should be subservient, and that if you start to treat a woman with kindness and respect, and not as a servant, she will end up being spoiled. Another interesting part of the story is the nondescript place which Suzanne Carstens walks to. We are not really informed as to whether or not Ms Carstens is a prostitute, although it is insinuated. \n"
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events of the day before dropping off to sleep. The troublesome Sally. The strange dream world of Armagon. The visit to the barber shop. The removal of Brundage's body. The conversations with the townspeople. Dawes' suspicious attitude ... Then sleep came. He was flanked by marble pillars, thrusting towards a high-domed ceiling. The room stretched long and wide before him, the walls bedecked in stunning purple draperies. He whirled at the sound of footsteps, echoing stridently on the stone floor. Someone was running towards him. It was Sally, pigtails streaming out behind her, the small body wearing a flowing white
up. It was light, much lighter than most Earth books. He ran a hand over the binding. Smooth it was, untouched by time or climate. He squinted at the pages, tilting the book to catch the bright moonlight, but the writing was alien. He touched the page, ran his forefinger over the writing. Suddenly he sprang back. The book fell from his hands. "God in heaven!" he exclaimed. He had heard a voice. He looked around at the old buildings, down the length of the ancient street. Something strange about the voice. Not Maota. Not his tones. Not his words.
the ship's mechanical diagnostician. His report followed: ARM SWOLLEN. UNABLE TO KEEP DOWN FOOD LAST TWELVE HOURS. ABOUT TWO HOURS AGO, ENTIRE BODY TURNED LIVID RED. BRIEF PERIODS OF BLANKNESS. THINGS KEEP COMING AND GOING. SICK AS HELL. HURRY. SMOKY The ship's next message read: INFECTION QUITE DEFINITE. BUT SOMETHING STRANGE THERE. GIVE US ANYTHING MORE YOU HAVE. SS II His own reply perplexed Kaiser: LAST LETTER FUNNY. I NOT UNDERSTAND. WHY IS OO SENDING GARBLE TALK? DID USNS MAKE UP SECRET MESSAGES? SMOKY The expedition, apparently, was as puzzled as he: WHAT'S THE MATTER, SMOKY? THAT LAST MESSAGE WAS
aunts tell me I was born there in the middle of the war." "What war?" he asked startledly, spilling some lemonade. "The World War, of course. What's the matter?" Jack Barr was staring down at the spilled lemonade and feeling a kind of terror he'd never experienced in his waking life. Nothing around him had changed. He could still feel the same hot sun on his shoulders, the same icy glass in his hand, scent the same lemon-acid odor in his nostrils. He could still hear the faint chop-chop of the waves. And yet everything had changed, gone dark and
Satisfied that no one was near, he stooped and picked up the book again. "Good God!" he said aloud. It was the book talking. His fingers had touched the writing again. It was not a voice, exactly, but a stirring in his mind, like a strange language heard for the first time. A talking book. What other surprises were in the city? Tall, fragile buildings laughing at time and weather. A clock measuring God-knows-what. If such wonders remained, what about those already destroyed? One could only guess at the machines, the gadgets, the artistry already decayed and blown away to
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Describe the Five Ship Plan.
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Lost Tribes of Venus by Erik Fennel.
Relevant chunks:
a comparison of the drawings with those of the obsolete Mark XXXV battle cruiser used two hundred years earlier by the Concordiat Naval Arm showed them to be almost identical, gun emplacements and all. The term "obsolete" was a relative one. A ship which had been outmoded in the armories of the Galactic Powers could still be king of the walk in the Eastern Arm. But how had these two known of the film? There had been no one present but himself and the old-timer—and he was willing to bet the elderly Fustian hadn't told them anything. At least not
hulk!" he snapped at the ancient. "May you toss in nightmares! Put by the plans!" "My mistake," Retief said. "I didn't know this was a secret project." The youth hesitated. "It is not a secret project," he muttered. "Why should it be secret?" "You tell me." The youth worked his jaws and rocked his head from side to side in the Fusty gesture of uncertainty. "There is nothing to conceal," he said. "We merely construct a passenger liner." "Then you don't mind if I look over the drawings," said Retief. "Who knows? Maybe some day I'll want to reserve a
expanse of sails would naturally not retard the ship. More radioactive ribbon, manufactured as needed in the ship itself, would feed out onto the sail as that already there became exhausted. A spaceship with direct nuclear drive—and he, a Thinker, had conceived it completely except for the technical details! Having strengthened his mind by hard years of somno-learning, mind-casting, memory-straightening, and sensory training, he had assured himself of the executive power to control the technicians and direct their specialized abilities. Together they would build the true Mars rocket. But that would only be a beginning. They would build the true
"I'd like to take a look around, if you don't mind. I understand you're laying the bedplate for your new liner today." "May-you-dream-of-the-deeps," the old fellow mumbled. He waved a stumpy arm toward a group of shell-less Fustians standing by a massive hoist. "The youths know more of bedplates than do I, who but tend the place of papers." "I know how you feel, old-timer," said Retief. "That sounds like the story of my life. Among your papers do you have a set of plans for the vessel? I understand it's to be a passenger liner." The oldster nodded. He
robot ship is the answer to the transportation problems in the Solar System. For the sake of every human being in the Solar System, we must get the bugs out of McGuire!" What's good for General Bull-moose is good for everybody , I quoted to myself. I'd have said it out loud, [9] but I was fairly certain that Shalimar Ravenhurst was not a student of the classics. "Mr. Oak, I would like you to go to Ceres and co-operate with the robotocists at Viking. When the MGYR-8 is finally built, I want it to be the prototype for a
Question:
Describe the Five Ship Plan.
Answer:
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[
"After discovering Mars and the moon, humanity decided to conquer yet another planet: Venus. However, Venus was too far away to safely carry the amount of fuel needed for a round trip mission. So, the Five Ship Plan evolved. Five rockets were to fly to Venus at separate intervals. Those who landed first would build a colony to live in and welcome the others to the surface of the planet. Once all five had arrived, they would figure out which ship was in the best shape and transfer all remaining fuel to that one. The colonists would head back home if Venus was completely uninhabitable, or remain on the planet for the time being, living out their lives on the colony. ",
"The Five Ship Plan was devised as a way to provide travel to and from Venus and is a joint venture between the government and private groups. It is a clever solution to the problem of ships only holding enough fuel for a one-way trip to Venus. Under the plan, five ships make the journey carrying as much fuel as they possibly can and loaded with various cargo needed for survival on the planet. When all five are on Venus, the ship in the best condition will receive the remaining fuel left in the other ships to return to Earth. Barry Barr’s job will then be to repurpose the materials of the other ships into whatever the colony needs, such as a landing dock and launching ramp. Members of the Five Ship Plan are chosen for their expertise in their fields and their sense of responsibility. They are expected to be so committed to the mission that they are willing to sacrifice themselves so that the mission can succeed. Much of the code of the plan is based on the ancient Earth code for the sea and requires members to perform actions “for the safety of the ship.”",
"The Five Ship Plan had been designed by a joint enterprise of government and private groups to establish the Venus Colony after humans successfully visited Mars. Because the fuel requirements to make the round trip from Earth to Venus would bring a ship to critical mass, five ships would fill their tanks as much as safely possible, land on Venus, and the ship that had sustained the least amount of damage would take on the fuel reserves of the other four for the return trip to Earth unless a successful colony could be established on Venus. The crews for the five ships needed to be responsible individuals and Barry was chosen for his familiarity with tropical conditions and his abilities as a structural engineer. His job in the Venus Colony would be to repurpose the ships that would be left behind on Venus into whatever would be needed as well as to study native Venusian materials. Dorothy Voorhees was the crew's toxicologist and dietician. Other crew members included Dr. Carl Jensen, Robson Hind, Nick Podtiaguine, and Captain Reno.",
"The Five Ship Plan was developed by various private and government groups in an attempt to blow past the existing limitations on space travel. These are dangerous expeditions manned by specialists with strong senses of responsibility who the leaders of the Plan expect to be able to maintain themselves and their crews for long enough to make it to Venus, where the leftover fuel from all five ships would be combined to one for a return journey. The specifics of the return trip would depend on who made it to Venus, what they found there, and what they could establish in the Colony."
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a comparison of the drawings with those of the obsolete Mark XXXV battle cruiser used two hundred years earlier by the Concordiat Naval Arm showed them to be almost identical, gun emplacements and all. The term "obsolete" was a relative one. A ship which had been outmoded in the armories of the Galactic Powers could still be king of the walk in the Eastern Arm. But how had these two known of the film? There had been no one present but himself and the old-timer—and he was willing to bet the elderly Fustian hadn't told them anything. At least not
hulk!" he snapped at the ancient. "May you toss in nightmares! Put by the plans!" "My mistake," Retief said. "I didn't know this was a secret project." The youth hesitated. "It is not a secret project," he muttered. "Why should it be secret?" "You tell me." The youth worked his jaws and rocked his head from side to side in the Fusty gesture of uncertainty. "There is nothing to conceal," he said. "We merely construct a passenger liner." "Then you don't mind if I look over the drawings," said Retief. "Who knows? Maybe some day I'll want to reserve a
expanse of sails would naturally not retard the ship. More radioactive ribbon, manufactured as needed in the ship itself, would feed out onto the sail as that already there became exhausted. A spaceship with direct nuclear drive—and he, a Thinker, had conceived it completely except for the technical details! Having strengthened his mind by hard years of somno-learning, mind-casting, memory-straightening, and sensory training, he had assured himself of the executive power to control the technicians and direct their specialized abilities. Together they would build the true Mars rocket. But that would only be a beginning. They would build the true
"I'd like to take a look around, if you don't mind. I understand you're laying the bedplate for your new liner today." "May-you-dream-of-the-deeps," the old fellow mumbled. He waved a stumpy arm toward a group of shell-less Fustians standing by a massive hoist. "The youths know more of bedplates than do I, who but tend the place of papers." "I know how you feel, old-timer," said Retief. "That sounds like the story of my life. Among your papers do you have a set of plans for the vessel? I understand it's to be a passenger liner." The oldster nodded. He
robot ship is the answer to the transportation problems in the Solar System. For the sake of every human being in the Solar System, we must get the bugs out of McGuire!" What's good for General Bull-moose is good for everybody , I quoted to myself. I'd have said it out loud, [9] but I was fairly certain that Shalimar Ravenhurst was not a student of the classics. "Mr. Oak, I would like you to go to Ceres and co-operate with the robotocists at Viking. When the MGYR-8 is finally built, I want it to be the prototype for a
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What is the plot of the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Tea Tray in the Sky by Evelyn E. Smith.
Relevant chunks:
explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
forty years ago or more. Resembled one? It was one! Unquestionably, though half-invisible and like a piece of glass immersed in water, it was a rocket ship. But the instruments on the control board could not lie. The presence of any material body within a hundred thousand miles would be revealed. But the needle on the gauge did not quiver. Nothing indicated the presence of a ship. But the evidence of his eyes was incontestable. Or was it? Doubt gripped him. Did the loneliness of all these years in space twist his mind till he was imagining the appearance of
"Get somebody—maybe even the President—on all radio and TV networks. Explain frankly about the four-centers and warn against licking any stamps. Then—" He broke off as his phone rang. Answering, he listened for a moment, then hung up and said, "But before the big announcement, get somebody checking on the security clearances at whatever plant it is where they print stamps. This's a big deal. Somebody may've been planted years ago for this operation. It shouldn't be too hard. "But there's no evidence it was a plot yet. Could be pure accident—some chemical in the stickum spoiled. Do they keep
deathly ill, but nobody dying. And doctors can't identify the poison until they have a fatality for an autopsy. People stricken in every part of the country, but the water systems are pure. How does it spread?" "In food?" "How? There must be hundreds of canneries and dairies and packing plants over the country. How could they all goof at the same time—even if it was sabotage?" "On the wind?" "But who could accurately predict every wind over the entire country—even Alaska and Hawaii—without hitting Canada or Mexico? And why wouldn't everybody get it in a given area?" Bettijean's smooth
Question:
What is the plot of the story?
Answer:
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[
"From his shelf Michael watches a juice advertisement. Then a nearby passenger starts a conversation regarding Michael's belonging to a Brotherhood. Michael remembers how the Father Superior proposed the idea for him to live in the outside world to answer the question about reasons for the Brotherhood's resignation from it. The young man makes one mistake after another, violating the laws of the Universe during the short conversation with his respectable companion. The least warns the youth against those mistakes and lets him stick close for a while, then the two listen to the Sirians singing. Suddenly, it turns out that Zosma has joined the United Universe and its rule to always cover the head becomes Universal starting that second. Upon the arrival to Portyork, Michael and his companion cautiously head to eat, and the man keeps enlightening the newcomer. Then they take a ride through the city with Carpenter constantly explaining Michael his new mistakes. During a short following walk, Michael says \"history\" and unintentionally deeply offends a man, who is urged by Carpenter not to report. Then Michael asks for a shower, and they take a taxi to a public lavatory. Advideos keep appearing and annoying the two everywhere. Then Carpenter wants to find a temporary family for Michael to make his stay legal, but the least mentions the desire to create his own permanent family and marry the girl he likes. This statement is the turning point, Carpenter is shocked with the youth's ignorance about marriage being outlawed. Michael in turn is frustrated with the idea of having to share his girl and decides to return to the Brotherhood. Carpenter is even more shocked by the news of both sexes living there together and belonging to one another, so he considers Michael simply unfit for the civilized and comfortable life. Michael, on the contrary, already dreams of coming back home. He takes the same bus and then the same taxi to his Brotherhood. ",
"Michael Frey is a member of one of the Brotherhoods, and he leaves his home to explore the outside world. The stranger he talks to asks him why he would join one, and he explains that his father brought him to the Angeleno Brotherhood when he was an infant. The United Universe lives in peace and never engages in wars with one another because every citizen must adapt to the customs of another one. Michael questions Father Superior about the ways of the Brotherhood before coming, and the Father suggests him coming to experience the life of civilization. He meets Pierce B. Carpenter, who hands him a business card and explains that aphrodisiacs are his line of business. He and Michael begin discussing the rules by the United Universe, and Carpenter warns him of the various rules, such as appearing in public with bare hands and that he must be careful. Michael retrieves a pair of yellow gloves from his pack, but Carpenter tells him that wearing yellow is the color of death on Saturn. He settles for rose-colored gloves instead. Carpenter offers to guide him through his stay in Portyork so that Michael will not run into any problems with the law. A stewardess goes around and announces that everybody must now wear some form of head-wearing because of Zosma’s admittance into the Union. Carpenter tells Michael that the universe is constantly expanding, which means that there must be constant updates. He then takes Michael to a “Feeding Station” for some food and offers to take him to the Old Town after. Michael mentions wanting to go to a hotel, but Carpenter explains he should not say these words because of the laws. The two go to Times Square, where the aliens are currently preparing for Christmas. Carpenter continues his tour to a few more locations, such as the Empire State building and Broadway. After, Michael gets himself washed, and Carpenter tells him that they must register him for a family now. Michael mentions getting married to his girlfriend soon, to which Carpenter shockingly tells him not to use that word because it is banned on Earth. He explains that Michael would have to share his girlfriend if he chooses to bring her here. Michael declares that he wants to go back to the Brotherhood, and Carpenter agrees, telling him that he does not adapt well to civilized behavior. Michael goes back to the ancient taxi again, where the driver is not surprised to see him back. He gives one last insult to civilization, which the taxi driver warns him about, and feels content to go home. ",
"Michael Frey is a member of the Angeleno Brotherhood, a rural city in comparison to largest spaceport in the United Universe, Portyork. The United Universe consists of many different worlds and is expanding at all times. The story begins with Michael on a jet bus heading towards Portyork looking for a job. He imagines bringing his girl over to get married once he settles down.\n\nMichael was so eager to leave the Brotherhood and to go explore the world that after a year of learning the tabus and customs, he boards the bus heading to Portyork. On the jet bus, Michael meets Pierce B. Carpenter, a board-minded, middle-aged man with brown hair and blue eyes. Carpenter works in the aphrodisiacs industry, and his first thought Michael joined the Brotherhood because he was troubled over a female, then Michael reveals that he has been in the Brother since he was an infant. After accused of breaking a series of laws, which includes talking about fatherhood, wondering about turning the advideo off, not covering his hands, being intolerant, and having yellow colored gloves, Carpenter offers to guide Michael around the city so that he can learn about the civilized behaviors.\n\nPrior to landing, the stewardess announces that Zosma is now a part of the Union. Since they have a custom of not showing their head in public, everyone in the United Universe has to cover their head, thus, the passengers all leave the jet bus after wearing some sort of headgear. Then, Michael states loudly that he is hungry and need to find something to eat. He is immediately rebuked by Carpenter. Everyone in the Union is not allowed to speak of eating, or use any other vulgar language in public since it is a custom for the Theemimians. After checking the map of the landing field, Michael is able to get to a “Feeding Station,” where he chewed on pieces of food that were meant to be swallowed. Afterwards, Michael attempts to break more customs when trying to get to the Old Town. Getting off the taxi, Michael finally offends a being who threatens to report him to the police because he has mentioned the word “history,” something that the Meropians lack. Carpenter begs the being and blames himself for not warning Michael. Later, Michael interrupts Carpenter, asking for the lavatory. Thus, they get to the Empire State Building, which has been transformed into a lavatory, since, apparently, it has no other use. \n\nOn their way out, Michael mentions his desire for marriage and family with the girl he got. Carpenter is shocked since there’s no marriage in the Union, and family is never permanent. Thus, Michael is determined to leave. Finally, Michael is back to the Brotherhood. He tells the taxi driver about his dislike for civilization. The driver reminds him that civilization is spreading, even to rural areas. However, Michael is happy that he is heading home. ",
"While on his way to Earth from the \"Brotherhood\" Michael meets a salesman named Mr. Carpenter. Micheal is moving to Earth in search of a new life, after his father passed away. The Brotherhood is a community that focuses on living in the ways of the past, which would be the present now, in this future society. Micheal and Carpenter begin to chat, but Carpenter soon makes Micheal aware of the social intricacies at play in this new Terran society. Earth is part of what's known as the \"United Universe\" which is a leaf of planets that was created over five hundred years ago. Each planet has different rules and customs, and to avoid conflict in this league, each planet must abide by one another's customs to avoid the chance of war breaking out. A person not abiding by those rules would face charges. Carpenter notices that Micheal keeps breaking these societal rules on their journey, and offers to take him under his wing, and show him around Earth, so he can avoid running into trouble. They arrive in Portyork, noticing all the Aliens that depart from the bus. Carpenter takes Michel to show him around, Micheal repeatedly unintentionally breaking rules. Micheal strats to get frustrated with all of these rules, not understanding the reasons behind them. The final straw comes when Micheal mentions to Carpenter that he has a girl back in the brotherhood whom he intends to marry. Carpenter tells him that marriage was outlawed a long time ago. Micheal decides that life in this civilisation is not worth it. He returns to the brotherhood and to his girlfriend. "
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explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
forty years ago or more. Resembled one? It was one! Unquestionably, though half-invisible and like a piece of glass immersed in water, it was a rocket ship. But the instruments on the control board could not lie. The presence of any material body within a hundred thousand miles would be revealed. But the needle on the gauge did not quiver. Nothing indicated the presence of a ship. But the evidence of his eyes was incontestable. Or was it? Doubt gripped him. Did the loneliness of all these years in space twist his mind till he was imagining the appearance of
"Get somebody—maybe even the President—on all radio and TV networks. Explain frankly about the four-centers and warn against licking any stamps. Then—" He broke off as his phone rang. Answering, he listened for a moment, then hung up and said, "But before the big announcement, get somebody checking on the security clearances at whatever plant it is where they print stamps. This's a big deal. Somebody may've been planted years ago for this operation. It shouldn't be too hard. "But there's no evidence it was a plot yet. Could be pure accident—some chemical in the stickum spoiled. Do they keep
deathly ill, but nobody dying. And doctors can't identify the poison until they have a fatality for an autopsy. People stricken in every part of the country, but the water systems are pure. How does it spread?" "In food?" "How? There must be hundreds of canneries and dairies and packing plants over the country. How could they all goof at the same time—even if it was sabotage?" "On the wind?" "But who could accurately predict every wind over the entire country—even Alaska and Hawaii—without hitting Canada or Mexico? And why wouldn't everybody get it in a given area?" Bettijean's smooth
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What is the narrator’s relationship to the mysterious voice in his dreams?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about I, the Unspeakable by Walter J. Sheldon.
Relevant chunks:
RECOVERED. FEELING FINE. ANYTHING NEW FROM SAM? AND HOW ABOUT THE DAMAGE TO SCOUT? GIVE ME ANYTHING YOU HAVE ON EITHER OR BOTH. SMOKY Kaiser felt suddenly weary. He lay on the scout's bunk and tried to sleep. Soon he was in that phantasm land between sleep and wakefulness—he knew he was not sleeping, yet he did dream. It was the same dream he had had many times before. In it, he was back home again, the home he had joined the space service to escape. He had realized soon after his marriage that his wife, Helene, did not love
once, and closed his eyes. He was tired and very sleepy, and his customary nightly review was limited to a few detached thoughts about the wedding he was supposed to attend in Salinas that weekend ... the hoodlum who had responded to his good-nature by dumping him out of his own car ... the slogging walk to the village ... the little round woman who was hurrying off, like the White Rabbit, to some mysterious appointment on the upper floor ... Then he went to sleep. A voice awoke him, shrill and questioning. "Are you nakkid ?" His eyes flew
aunts tell me I was born there in the middle of the war." "What war?" he asked startledly, spilling some lemonade. "The World War, of course. What's the matter?" Jack Barr was staring down at the spilled lemonade and feeling a kind of terror he'd never experienced in his waking life. Nothing around him had changed. He could still feel the same hot sun on his shoulders, the same icy glass in his hand, scent the same lemon-acid odor in his nostrils. He could still hear the faint chop-chop of the waves. And yet everything had changed, gone dark and
up. It was light, much lighter than most Earth books. He ran a hand over the binding. Smooth it was, untouched by time or climate. He squinted at the pages, tilting the book to catch the bright moonlight, but the writing was alien. He touched the page, ran his forefinger over the writing. Suddenly he sprang back. The book fell from his hands. "God in heaven!" he exclaimed. He had heard a voice. He looked around at the old buildings, down the length of the ancient street. Something strange about the voice. Not Maota. Not his tones. Not his words.
events of the day before dropping off to sleep. The troublesome Sally. The strange dream world of Armagon. The visit to the barber shop. The removal of Brundage's body. The conversations with the townspeople. Dawes' suspicious attitude ... Then sleep came. He was flanked by marble pillars, thrusting towards a high-domed ceiling. The room stretched long and wide before him, the walls bedecked in stunning purple draperies. He whirled at the sound of footsteps, echoing stridently on the stone floor. Someone was running towards him. It was Sally, pigtails streaming out behind her, the small body wearing a flowing white
Question:
What is the narrator’s relationship to the mysterious voice in his dreams?
Answer:
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[
"As the narrator finds it increasingly difficult to find a sexual partner as a result of his state-appointed designation, he begins to hear a mysterious female voice in his dreams. She first encourages him to change his name. Initially, he worries that his sleep-learner, a wearable head device which enables learning during sleep, has malfunctioned, but he finds no evidence of this. \nThe narrator hears the voice nearly every night. He often worries about the voice, as the contents of its speech are heretical. She encourages him to go to the Govpub office, a sort of government office in his locality, and he eventually obliges. \nOn the night before the narrator is slated to take a transport to the capital to change his name, he hears the voice again. It encourages him to persevere, and that he is attracted to Lara, a woman he had met earlier in the week. The voice further pushes him to pursue a relationship with Lara once he is able to change his name.\n",
"The mysterious voice always come to the main character during his dreams. It insists that he should “do it,” thus change his way of living. Because of his name, he has lost his job, and he is not able to mate. Even living an everyday life is quite difficult. The voice wants him to change that. She does not state that she want him to commit nonconformity, but making heretical remarks besides. The narrator’s difficulty in finding a new job and in having a normal social life negatively affects him because of name and no post. He feels lonely, thus there is a desire to change his name. The urge to reproduce himself becomes unbearable. He concoctes all sorts of wild schemes. The mysterious voice encourages him to dare to change his name, and find the freedom. When he even catches himeself wondering just how he'd go about this idea of hers. Wondering what the first step might be. The voice will appear at night and tell him the prompts. He absorbs the concepts unconsciously. He follows what the voice leads him to do. On the night before he board the ship for Center One, he thinks of objections to refute the voice. He thinks of his life now, and how breaking away from it will be very difficult. However, even though he is still hesitating if he should go, the voice seems to understand him very well. It reminds him of Lara, of how there will be a way to change his name, and to take her with him. ",
"The narrator experiences a voice in his dreams that encourages him to take risks, particularly regarding changing his name. He hears the voice practically every night, and describes it as a woman's voice: intense, seductive, and intriguing. The voice, though enticing, troubles the narrator, as he is concerned about the consequences of the actions that she is suggesting. However, as he continues to hear the voice every night, he starts to consider obeying it. The voice then drives him to begin the journey of changing his name, which is risky and radical in his society, and also tempts him in pursuing Lara and gaining freedom.",
"The mysterious voice in the narrator’s dreams talks in a seductive tone that was low and intense. The voice in his dreams went against the narrator’s conformists ideals that fit the State in the Northem. It suggests non-standard actions in an emotional tone that is unthinkable behavior in the Northem. The actions the voice suggest are ones of nonconformity and criticisms against the State. The narrator is hesitant and unsure about the voice’s presence. The voice continues to encourage the narrator to change his name. It even suggests that he should act on his attraction to Lara. "
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RECOVERED. FEELING FINE. ANYTHING NEW FROM SAM? AND HOW ABOUT THE DAMAGE TO SCOUT? GIVE ME ANYTHING YOU HAVE ON EITHER OR BOTH. SMOKY Kaiser felt suddenly weary. He lay on the scout's bunk and tried to sleep. Soon he was in that phantasm land between sleep and wakefulness—he knew he was not sleeping, yet he did dream. It was the same dream he had had many times before. In it, he was back home again, the home he had joined the space service to escape. He had realized soon after his marriage that his wife, Helene, did not love
once, and closed his eyes. He was tired and very sleepy, and his customary nightly review was limited to a few detached thoughts about the wedding he was supposed to attend in Salinas that weekend ... the hoodlum who had responded to his good-nature by dumping him out of his own car ... the slogging walk to the village ... the little round woman who was hurrying off, like the White Rabbit, to some mysterious appointment on the upper floor ... Then he went to sleep. A voice awoke him, shrill and questioning. "Are you nakkid ?" His eyes flew
aunts tell me I was born there in the middle of the war." "What war?" he asked startledly, spilling some lemonade. "The World War, of course. What's the matter?" Jack Barr was staring down at the spilled lemonade and feeling a kind of terror he'd never experienced in his waking life. Nothing around him had changed. He could still feel the same hot sun on his shoulders, the same icy glass in his hand, scent the same lemon-acid odor in his nostrils. He could still hear the faint chop-chop of the waves. And yet everything had changed, gone dark and
up. It was light, much lighter than most Earth books. He ran a hand over the binding. Smooth it was, untouched by time or climate. He squinted at the pages, tilting the book to catch the bright moonlight, but the writing was alien. He touched the page, ran his forefinger over the writing. Suddenly he sprang back. The book fell from his hands. "God in heaven!" he exclaimed. He had heard a voice. He looked around at the old buildings, down the length of the ancient street. Something strange about the voice. Not Maota. Not his tones. Not his words.
events of the day before dropping off to sleep. The troublesome Sally. The strange dream world of Armagon. The visit to the barber shop. The removal of Brundage's body. The conversations with the townspeople. Dawes' suspicious attitude ... Then sleep came. He was flanked by marble pillars, thrusting towards a high-domed ceiling. The room stretched long and wide before him, the walls bedecked in stunning purple draperies. He whirled at the sound of footsteps, echoing stridently on the stone floor. Someone was running towards him. It was Sally, pigtails streaming out behind her, the small body wearing a flowing white
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What is the relationship like between the Elliotts and Mr. Snader?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Butterfly 9 by Donald Keith.
Relevant chunks:
a snoll doper was; whether she would reveal the nature of the amateur secret society to which she and Klio and Yoolna and Gorka belonged. It virtually had to be an amateur secret society. Unless, of course, they were foreigners. But what on earth foreign organization would be quixotic enough to employ Taine's History of English Literature as a communications medium when there was a telephone in every drugstore and a mailbox on every corner? Somehow the words "what on earth foreign organization" got turned around in his mind and became "what foreign organization on earth" and before he could
rent between their world and his. "Ed!" Janet Loyce backed away nervously. "What is it? What—" Ed Loyce slammed the door behind him and came into the living room. "Pull down the shades. Quick." Janet moved toward the window. "But—" "Do as I say. Who else is here besides you?" "Nobody. Just the twins. They're upstairs in their room. What's happened? You look so strange. Why are you home?" Ed locked the front door. He prowled around the house, into the kitchen. From the drawer under the sink he slid out the big butcher knife and ran his finger along
spilled the sugar?" "Part of the reason," he said. "What's a snoll doper ?" She laughed. "I don't think I'd better tell you just yet." He sighed again. "But if Jilka wanted a snoll doper ," he said after a while, "why in the world didn't she call you up and say so?" "Regulations." She pulled over to the curb in front of a brick apartment building. "This is where Jilka lives. I'll explain when I get back." He watched her get out, walk up the walk to the entrance and let herself in. He leaned his head back on
man!” Mom burst out, as though she had been holding it in as long as she could. “Sending a boy who isn’t even twenty-two—” “Things are different nowadays, Mom,” Dad explained, still with the assumed calmness that masked his real feelings. “These days, men grow up faster and mature quicker. They’re stronger and more alert than older men—” His voice trailed off as if he were unable to convince himself. “ Some body has to go,” Marsh said. “Why not a younger man without family and responsibility? That’s why they’re giving younger men more opportunities today than they used to.”
P's ... the Q's ... the R's. Barely three feet from him she paused again and took down Taine's History of English Literature . He simply could not believe it. The odds against two persons taking an interest in so esoteric a volume on a single night in a single library were ten thousand to one. And yet there was no gainsaying that the volume was in the girl's hands, and that she was riffling through it with the air of a seasoned browser. Presently she returned the book to the shelf, selected another—seemingly at random—and took it over to
Question:
What is the relationship like between the Elliotts and Mr. Snader?
Answer:
|
[
"Initially, the Elliotts find Mr. Snader to be peculiar with his mustache, facial scar, traces of a broken nose, and accented speech. Jeff is not interested in engaging with him, but Ann continues to deepen their conversation with him at the restaurant thinking that Mr. Snader is insane and she will humor his ideas.\n\nMr. Snader shows hints of being forceful to the Elliots throughout the story. His persuasiveness to come to his time travel station is forceful at times, he takes their arms to escort them into the future portal (as if he wants to ensure their compliance), and once they are roaming the city in the future Mr. Snader largely drops the act and stops being nice to the Elliots altogether (ignoring their requests for him to drive safely, and being curt with them to get them into his drop off spot with Mr. Bullen).\n\nThe Elliots are captivated by the silliness of Mr. Snader’s story at first, believing it is a magic trick right up until they travel into the past, and then seem largely blinded by their curiosity and excitement to think critically about how much danger they are really in. They acknowledge Mr. Snader is being deceitful at times, like when Jeff asks for his questions to be answered, but become so reliant on Mr. Snader’s support to get them back home that they remain with him. When Mr. Snader’s plan is revealed - that he has delivered the Eliotts into the past to be forced into labor to create a color television company - they feel betrayed by Mr. Snader.\n",
"The Elliots are initially wary of Snader. They look at him before he approaches them in the restaurant, and Ann tells her husband that she thinks she saw him outside in the parking lot. She wonders aloud if he has been following them. When he first starts up a conversation with them, Jeff immediately wants to leave, and it’s Ann who gets a kick out of the improbable dialogue they have. She wants to learn more about his insane-sounding ideas about time travel, although she doesn’t necessarily believe anything he’s saying at first. Both Jeff and Ann laugh at the card that Snader hands them because nearly every word is misspelled and to them he appears unprofessional. \n\nThey do not spend very much time with Snader, but they appear to trust him quite readily. They are skeptical about his promises and insist that it’s probably all fake, but they don’t associate the dishonesty with Snader personally. When Snader physically shows them how time traveling works by stepping in and out of the screens, Jeff and Ann are so excited that they actually link arms with the stranger. Moments later, Jeff calls him “brother”. Jeff initially insists that they take his car to go to the station, but when it disappears outside after they have time traveled, they have no problem getting into the backseat of a limousine and allowing Snader to drive them. When he brings them to a building they have never seen before, they wonder what could possibly be dangerous about it instead of insisting that they remain vigilant. Snader delivers Jeff and Ann right to the bad guys, and they never see it coming. Bullen’s guys thank Snader and mention the payment he will receive as a result of bringing them their victim, Jeff. Had Jeff and Ann refused to trust a stranger with a wild story about time traveling, they would not be stuck in another dimension. \n\n",
"The Elliotts are always somewhat suspicious of Mr. Snader, but they are intrigued by his claims and offer of time travel and curious enough to want to find out more about it. Snader uses Ann to draw the couple’s initial interest; she is more open to listening to him than Jeff is. Jeff is somewhat antagonistic to Snader, for example, commenting on the misspelled words on his business card and sometimes speaking to him derisively. Likewise, Snader mocks Jeff with his eyes. Ann is more open to Snader’s offer, asking him questions to learn more about it and commenting she wishes time travel could be true. Her receptiveness ignites Jeff’s desire to escape his worries for a while so that he is willing to learn more from Snader. When Snader takes them to the station, Ann expresses concerns to Jeff, but he believes they won’t be in danger. However, when Snader shows Jeff the screens and waves to people on them who wave back, the Elliotts are more convinced that what Snader offers is real. Snader is his nicest to Jeff just before they enter the time travel screen, but the closer they get to the apartment building, the less interested he is in answering questions and being polite. He orders them into the limousine and at one point issues a warning: “Tonight, you look where you are going.” Ann notices the station house has bars on it, and Jeff is suspicious enough that he makes a point of remembering the street names where the station is located so they will be able to find it again on their own. His tentative trust of Snader continues eroding when he realizes they are on a freeway that didn’t exist yet in the present. When he asks Snader if he’s brought them to the future instead of the past, Snader doesn’t even bother to answer. At the apartment, Jeff and Ann learn that Snader was paid to bring them there, and he “mockingly” waves at them as he leaves now that his job is done.\n\n\n",
"The relationship between the Elliotts and Mr. Snader is one with varying levels of distrust and suspicion but also some curiosity and genuine interest. When they all meet, Jeff is suspicious of everything that Mr. Snader says and does not thing it is worth his time to listen to Snader talk. Ann is curious, though, and wants to hear Snader out. It is not clear from this first part of the story what Snader thinks of the Elliots besides his interest in them as people who might be able to benefit from what he has to offer, at least on the surface. Once they all arrive at the \"4-D Travel Beuro\", as Ann has agreed to give Snader's time travel a try, the suspicion is continued. Because Jeff is an expert in color television, he is convinced everything he is seeing is some kind of visual trick and he wants to learn how it works. Jeff lets this color his interactions with Snader, and most of what he says to him has some audible distrust. At this point, Ann is also worried, once they step into the moving picture, but her fear dissipates once they are outside of the house in a different time. During this time travel, Jeff and Ann have had a lot of questions for Snader, but he is not answering any of them, at least not directly--this adds to the mistrust felt by the Elliotts. Once Snader drops the Elliots off with Kersey, they are understandably upset when they realize they have been tricked."
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a snoll doper was; whether she would reveal the nature of the amateur secret society to which she and Klio and Yoolna and Gorka belonged. It virtually had to be an amateur secret society. Unless, of course, they were foreigners. But what on earth foreign organization would be quixotic enough to employ Taine's History of English Literature as a communications medium when there was a telephone in every drugstore and a mailbox on every corner? Somehow the words "what on earth foreign organization" got turned around in his mind and became "what foreign organization on earth" and before he could
rent between their world and his. "Ed!" Janet Loyce backed away nervously. "What is it? What—" Ed Loyce slammed the door behind him and came into the living room. "Pull down the shades. Quick." Janet moved toward the window. "But—" "Do as I say. Who else is here besides you?" "Nobody. Just the twins. They're upstairs in their room. What's happened? You look so strange. Why are you home?" Ed locked the front door. He prowled around the house, into the kitchen. From the drawer under the sink he slid out the big butcher knife and ran his finger along
spilled the sugar?" "Part of the reason," he said. "What's a snoll doper ?" She laughed. "I don't think I'd better tell you just yet." He sighed again. "But if Jilka wanted a snoll doper ," he said after a while, "why in the world didn't she call you up and say so?" "Regulations." She pulled over to the curb in front of a brick apartment building. "This is where Jilka lives. I'll explain when I get back." He watched her get out, walk up the walk to the entrance and let herself in. He leaned his head back on
man!” Mom burst out, as though she had been holding it in as long as she could. “Sending a boy who isn’t even twenty-two—” “Things are different nowadays, Mom,” Dad explained, still with the assumed calmness that masked his real feelings. “These days, men grow up faster and mature quicker. They’re stronger and more alert than older men—” His voice trailed off as if he were unable to convince himself. “ Some body has to go,” Marsh said. “Why not a younger man without family and responsibility? That’s why they’re giving younger men more opportunities today than they used to.”
P's ... the Q's ... the R's. Barely three feet from him she paused again and took down Taine's History of English Literature . He simply could not believe it. The odds against two persons taking an interest in so esoteric a volume on a single night in a single library were ten thousand to one. And yet there was no gainsaying that the volume was in the girl's hands, and that she was riffling through it with the air of a seasoned browser. Presently she returned the book to the shelf, selected another—seemingly at random—and took it over to
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Who is Tobias Whiting and what happens to him throughout the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Home is Where You Left It by Stephen Marlowe.
Relevant chunks:
a lot?" She nodded. "Fitzgerald's my favorite author." She started around the table, hesitated, suddenly grew shy. "Would you like some lemonade?" He'd noticed the dewed silver pitcher, but only now realized his thirst. Yet when she handed him a glass, he held it untasted and said awkwardly, "I haven't introduced myself. I'm Jack Barry." She stared at his outstretched right hand, slowly extended her own toward it, shook it up and down exactly once, then quickly dropped it. He chuckled and gulped some lemonade. "I'm a biology student. Been working at Wood's Hole the first part of the summer.
aunts tell me I was born there in the middle of the war." "What war?" he asked startledly, spilling some lemonade. "The World War, of course. What's the matter?" Jack Barr was staring down at the spilled lemonade and feeling a kind of terror he'd never experienced in his waking life. Nothing around him had changed. He could still feel the same hot sun on his shoulders, the same icy glass in his hand, scent the same lemon-acid odor in his nostrils. He could still hear the faint chop-chop of the waves. And yet everything had changed, gone dark and
events of the day before dropping off to sleep. The troublesome Sally. The strange dream world of Armagon. The visit to the barber shop. The removal of Brundage's body. The conversations with the townspeople. Dawes' suspicious attitude ... Then sleep came. He was flanked by marble pillars, thrusting towards a high-domed ceiling. The room stretched long and wide before him, the walls bedecked in stunning purple draperies. He whirled at the sound of footsteps, echoing stridently on the stone floor. Someone was running towards him. It was Sally, pigtails streaming out behind her, the small body wearing a flowing white
head. He closed his eyes and the lettering on the door disappeared. Cassal was too far away to see what it had been. The technician opened his eyes and concentrated. Slowly a new sign formed on the door. TRAVELERS AID BUREAU Murra Foray, First Counselor It was a drab sign, but, then, it was a dismal, backward planet. The old technician passed on to the next door and closed his eyes again. With a sinking feeling, Cassal walked toward the entrance. He needed help and he had to find it in this dingy rathole. Inside, though, it wasn't dingy and
guards? What does Travelers Aid have that's so secret?" Cassal grunted and didn't answer. Dimanche could be annoyingly inquisitive at times. Cassal had entered one side of a block-square building. He came out on the other side. The agency was larger than he had thought. The old man was staring at a door as Cassal came out. He had apparently changed every sign in the building. His work finished, the technician was removing the visual projector from his head as Cassal came up to him. He turned and peered. "You stuck here, too?" he asked in the uneven voice of
Question:
Who is Tobias Whiting and what happens to him throughout the story?
Answer:
|
[
"Tobias is a well-muscled, handsome man in his mid-forties. He is the Colony’s official trader with the Kumajis. Steve believed him to have been the most successful man in the Colony before the events of the story. The water in his village gets poisoned by the Kumaji. He, together with his daughter and other citizens, is forced to abandon his home and walk through the desert to Oasis City, leaving all his treasures and assets behind. The Kumajis are trying to chase them and kill the Colony. At some point in their journey, he meets Steve, who found the caravan on his unicopter. Several days later, Tobias decides to steal the unicopter and fly to the Kumaji’s base fifty miles due north of their stop and trade the caravan’s location for his money. He’s kept in one of the tents, and soon Mary and Steve join him. Now that his daughter is a prisoner, he’s eager to share the location of the caravan and save her from torture. At night Steve whispers that he will kill Tobias, and the man screams. Steve quickly silences him and attacks the coming guard. The Kumaji loses the battle with Steve but stabs Tobias in the stomach. He realizes that he won’t be able to leave the camp alive, so he blesses Mary and Steve and promises to give the Kumaji the wrong direction and save the caravan.",
"Tobias Whiting is the father of Mary Whiting. He is described to be the colony’s most successful man when Steve was a boy. However, there is now bitterness, bleak self-pity, and defeat evident in his eyes. Physically, he is in his mid-forties now. He is well-muscled, flesh solid, and walks with bold steps. He also has a craggy and handsome face. Tobias used to be very rich, by the colony standards, because he primarily traded with the Kumajis. Now, he has lost all of his money to them. He deeply cares for his daughter Mary, taking good care of her when they have to flee with the rest of the colony. Tobias, however, decides to steal Steven’s unicopter to go back to the Kumaji under the guise of getting his fortune back. When they meet him at the camp, he tells them that he is discussing a settlement with the Kumaji. Later, Tobias is gravely injured by the pike of the guard after he is attacked by Steve. He still wishes nothing but for Mary’s happiness, so he tells Steve to take her south with the rest of the colony. He says that he will give the Kumaji false information to better help the colony escape. ",
"Tobias Whiting is a mid-fourties Earthman who belonged to the colony in the desert. He is described to be well-muscled with a strong stride and a handsome face. He has a daughter, Mary Whiting. Whiting was the Colony's official trader with the Kumajis and had grown rich because of his business with them. Despite this relationship with the Kumajis, he and his daughter were forced to escape with the rest of their colony. He remains bitter over the fact that wherever the colony escapes to, he and his daughter will be poor even with their supposed riches, which are tied up with a Kumaji moneylender. \n\nIn the middle of the journey, Whiting disappears with Cantwell's unicopter. It is deduced that he took off with the unicopter with the intention of informing the Kumajis, at a base not too far away, of the caravan's location in return for his money. Whiting successfully makes it to the Kumajis' base, and after running into his daughter and Cantwell, he remains steadfast on his decision because they might choose to torture his daughter for information. After a scuffle with the Kumaji guard, Whiting is fatally stabbed on accident by the guard's pike. Knowing he will soon die, Whiting promises to lead the Kumajis astray with the wrong information and wishes his daughter and Cantwell off. ",
"Tobias Whiting is one of the humans who settled on the desert planet, and who was a constant victim of the natives’ violence. Tobias and his daughter Mary are also part of the survivors of the last attack, which forces them to move away towards a large city. Tobias is revealed to have been a very wealthy man, and had a lot of business with the natives. After Steve meets up with them, Tobias decides to steal Steve’s ship and negotiate with the natives who were hunting them. Steve wants to get his money back in return for giving up the location of the other humans. After Steve and Mary find him, he dies while they try to escape, but just before dying he changes his mind and sends the natives to the wrong location. "
] |
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a lot?" She nodded. "Fitzgerald's my favorite author." She started around the table, hesitated, suddenly grew shy. "Would you like some lemonade?" He'd noticed the dewed silver pitcher, but only now realized his thirst. Yet when she handed him a glass, he held it untasted and said awkwardly, "I haven't introduced myself. I'm Jack Barry." She stared at his outstretched right hand, slowly extended her own toward it, shook it up and down exactly once, then quickly dropped it. He chuckled and gulped some lemonade. "I'm a biology student. Been working at Wood's Hole the first part of the summer.
aunts tell me I was born there in the middle of the war." "What war?" he asked startledly, spilling some lemonade. "The World War, of course. What's the matter?" Jack Barr was staring down at the spilled lemonade and feeling a kind of terror he'd never experienced in his waking life. Nothing around him had changed. He could still feel the same hot sun on his shoulders, the same icy glass in his hand, scent the same lemon-acid odor in his nostrils. He could still hear the faint chop-chop of the waves. And yet everything had changed, gone dark and
events of the day before dropping off to sleep. The troublesome Sally. The strange dream world of Armagon. The visit to the barber shop. The removal of Brundage's body. The conversations with the townspeople. Dawes' suspicious attitude ... Then sleep came. He was flanked by marble pillars, thrusting towards a high-domed ceiling. The room stretched long and wide before him, the walls bedecked in stunning purple draperies. He whirled at the sound of footsteps, echoing stridently on the stone floor. Someone was running towards him. It was Sally, pigtails streaming out behind her, the small body wearing a flowing white
head. He closed his eyes and the lettering on the door disappeared. Cassal was too far away to see what it had been. The technician opened his eyes and concentrated. Slowly a new sign formed on the door. TRAVELERS AID BUREAU Murra Foray, First Counselor It was a drab sign, but, then, it was a dismal, backward planet. The old technician passed on to the next door and closed his eyes again. With a sinking feeling, Cassal walked toward the entrance. He needed help and he had to find it in this dingy rathole. Inside, though, it wasn't dingy and
guards? What does Travelers Aid have that's so secret?" Cassal grunted and didn't answer. Dimanche could be annoyingly inquisitive at times. Cassal had entered one side of a block-square building. He came out on the other side. The agency was larger than he had thought. The old man was staring at a door as Cassal came out. He had apparently changed every sign in the building. His work finished, the technician was removing the visual projector from his head as Cassal came up to him. He turned and peered. "You stuck here, too?" he asked in the uneven voice of
|
What effect does Kane's violent drinking outburst have on the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Snare by Richard Rein Smith.
Relevant chunks:
was with Dawn, who happens to be a gorgeous redhead who could put Marge to shame on practically any field of battle except maybe brains, I kept thinking about Marge all evening long, and wondering if things weren't getting just a little out of hand. The next evening I almost tripped over George Prime coming out of a liquor store. I ducked quickly into an alley and flagged him. " What are you doing out on the street? " He gave me my martyred look. "Just buying some bourbon. You were out." "But you're not supposed to be off the
second honeymoon— Then it struck me. Poor Marge? Poor sucker George! No Prime in his right circuits would behave this way without some human guidance and that meant only one thing: Marge had spotted him. It had happened before. Couple of nasty court battles I'd read about. And she'd known all about George Prime. For how long? When I got home, the house was empty. George Prime wasn't in his closet. And Marge wasn't in the house. They were gone. I started to call the police, but caught myself just in time. I couldn't very well complain to the cops
driving them nuts, not Thurston's agents." "Perfectly true," he said agreeably. "We managed to block any attempts of sabotage by other company agents, even though it looked as though we hadn't for a while." He chuckled wryly. "We went all out to keep the McGuires safe, and all the time the boss' daughter was giving them the works." Then he looked sharply at me. "I covered that, of course. No one in the Security Guard but me knows that Jack was responsible." "Good. But what about the Thurston and Baedecker agents, then?" He took a hefty slug of his drink.
I stopped. I could see Marge and George Prime through the living room windows. George Prime was kissing my wife the way I hadn't kissed her in eight long years. It made my hair stand on end. And Marge wasn't exactly fighting him off, either. She was coming back for more. After a little, the lights went off. George Prime was a Super Deluxe model, all right. I dashed into the workshop and punched the recall button as hard as I could, swearing under my breath. How long had this been going on? I punched the button again, viciously, and
the hovering ship swung open creakily. A beefy, black-haired young man appeared unsteadily in the doorway, called to Dylan. "C'n I go now, Jim?" Dylan turned and nodded. "Be back for you tonight," the young man called, and then, grinning, he yelled "Catch" and tossed down a bottle. The captain caught it and put it unconcernedly into his pocket while Rossel stared in disgust. A moment later the airlock closed and the ship prepared to lift. "Was he drunk ?" Rossel began angrily. "Was that a bottle of liquor ?" The soldier was looking at him calmly, coldly. He indicated
Question:
What effect does Kane's violent drinking outburst have on the story?
Answer:
|
[
"Ed and Kane go to the kitchen and start to sample random bottles and foods. Kane finds a brown bottle filled with a strong liquid. The artificial intelligence explains that it is a liquor intended to mimic something like what the alien race presumed would be created on Earth. He starts to drink it and soon becomes intoxicated. He starts to punch himself and then beats his head against the wall. His knuckles become bloody and he gets a bruise on his head. The computer asks him not to hurt himself, as its masters will be disappointed if they arrive in the alien world injured. The computer has no way to physically interfere with the crew. This hatches an idea in Kane's mind. If the computer arrives with a damaged or even dead crew, then the machine will have failed its assignment. He threatens to kill the entire crew, which would mean that the machine would arrive on the planet empty handed. He offers the machine an alternative. If it drops them back on Mars, then it will not have really failed, because the only way to truly fail would be to arrive with a dead crew. Additionally, if the machine stayed on the Moon's surface, it might have an opportunity to pick up another crew in the future. This plan is all due to a whiskey-like substance. ",
"Kane's violent drinking outburst initially causes him to punch the wall with his fist, causing him to bleed. This causes the machine to respond by pleading with Kane, revealing that its masters ordered it to bring the humans to them unscathed. This revelation about the machine's conditions inspires Kane further, and the next morning, he constructs a plan to get the group off the ship. Still intoxicated, Kane ties up the group, and uses violence against Ed to get the machine to free them. Thus, Kane's outburst, though chaotic and violent, ultimately led to the group's freedom.",
"Kane’s violent drinking outburst helps him think of a solution to force the machine to let them go back to the Moon. He initially does not know what to do, but he notices the machine does not want the human passengers getting injured when it desperately tells him to stop beating against the wall. This reaction helps him formulate a plan, and he decides to tie Ed, Verana, and even his wife Marie up. He tries to explain to Ed that the machine is afraid of displeasing its masters, which is why he has found the solution to their problem. His plan, therefore, is to threaten to kill all of them until the machine turns the ship around. He puts it into motion, and it scares the machine enough that it works to convince it to let them go back. ",
"Due to Kane's drinking outburst the machine agrees to return to the Moon. The situation seems to have no solution, but as promised, Kane finds one. If he wasn't drunk, this wouldn't occur him, he wouldn't have enough determination. But Kane's aggressive nature together with alcohol have made him violent enough to make this scene. The machine is confused and doesn't know what to do, Kane's move is clever and he urges the machine to return. This saves the group from being held on an alien planet but it also scares everyone in the group and puts Ed in danger. This action prevents the group from meeting aliens."
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49901
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was with Dawn, who happens to be a gorgeous redhead who could put Marge to shame on practically any field of battle except maybe brains, I kept thinking about Marge all evening long, and wondering if things weren't getting just a little out of hand. The next evening I almost tripped over George Prime coming out of a liquor store. I ducked quickly into an alley and flagged him. " What are you doing out on the street? " He gave me my martyred look. "Just buying some bourbon. You were out." "But you're not supposed to be off the
second honeymoon— Then it struck me. Poor Marge? Poor sucker George! No Prime in his right circuits would behave this way without some human guidance and that meant only one thing: Marge had spotted him. It had happened before. Couple of nasty court battles I'd read about. And she'd known all about George Prime. For how long? When I got home, the house was empty. George Prime wasn't in his closet. And Marge wasn't in the house. They were gone. I started to call the police, but caught myself just in time. I couldn't very well complain to the cops
driving them nuts, not Thurston's agents." "Perfectly true," he said agreeably. "We managed to block any attempts of sabotage by other company agents, even though it looked as though we hadn't for a while." He chuckled wryly. "We went all out to keep the McGuires safe, and all the time the boss' daughter was giving them the works." Then he looked sharply at me. "I covered that, of course. No one in the Security Guard but me knows that Jack was responsible." "Good. But what about the Thurston and Baedecker agents, then?" He took a hefty slug of his drink.
I stopped. I could see Marge and George Prime through the living room windows. George Prime was kissing my wife the way I hadn't kissed her in eight long years. It made my hair stand on end. And Marge wasn't exactly fighting him off, either. She was coming back for more. After a little, the lights went off. George Prime was a Super Deluxe model, all right. I dashed into the workshop and punched the recall button as hard as I could, swearing under my breath. How long had this been going on? I punched the button again, viciously, and
the hovering ship swung open creakily. A beefy, black-haired young man appeared unsteadily in the doorway, called to Dylan. "C'n I go now, Jim?" Dylan turned and nodded. "Be back for you tonight," the young man called, and then, grinning, he yelled "Catch" and tossed down a bottle. The captain caught it and put it unconcernedly into his pocket while Rossel stared in disgust. A moment later the airlock closed and the ship prepared to lift. "Was he drunk ?" Rossel began angrily. "Was that a bottle of liquor ?" The soldier was looking at him calmly, coldly. He indicated
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What is the significance of Hogey’s feet being stuck in concrete?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Hoofer by Walter M. Miller.
Relevant chunks:
touched the water to his lips. It was cool and satisfying. He drank it, convinced completely. Eric asked, "And I am to destroy the City?" "Yes. The time has come." "But why?" Eric demanded. For an instant he could see the twinkling beauty as clearly as if he had stood outside the walls of this building. Kroon said, "There are difficulties. The machine builds according to the mass will of the people, though it is sensitive to the individual in areas where it does not conflict with the imagination of the mass. We have had strangers, visitors, and even our
on his head and began walking back to the canal. The return back to the city would always live in his mind as a phantasmagora, a montage of twisted hate and unseemly beauty. When he came again to the gate he did not attempt to enter, but circled the wall, hat on, hat off, stiff limbed like a puppet dancing to the same tune over and over again. He found a place where he could scale the wall, and thrust the helmet on his head, and clawed up the misshapen wall. It was all he could do to make himself
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
many days?" His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of those inhuman eyes. She fell face first to the floor. "I can't keep it up!" she cried. The sound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. "I cant! I cant!" A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. "Get up!" Rat stood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. "Get up!" She stared at him, dazed. He kicked her. "Get up!" The tepid water ran off her face and far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Rat was
Walton was very much afraid that his brother meant no good by this call. No good at all. III Roy Walton watched his brother's head and shoulders take form out of the swirl of colors on the screen. Fred Walton was more compact, built closer to the ground than his rangy brother; he was a squat five-seven, next to Roy's lean six-two. Fred had always threatened to "get even" with his older brother as soon as they were the same size, but to Fred's great dismay he had never managed to catch up with Roy in height. Even on the
Question:
What is the significance of Hogey’s feet being stuck in concrete?
Answer:
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[
"There is an ironic significance in Hogey’s feet being stuck in concrete. Throughout the story, Hogey’s identity is tied to being a tumbler - a spaceman. Not only does he physically look like a spacer with his sun-burned marks from his goggles, he has also been blinded by the sun’s glare. It is only due to these characteristics that other people give him allowances while Hogey is in a drunken stupor. \n\nHogey constantly speaks to separate himself from everyone else - even his wife - by identifying as a tumbler and them as hoofers. He insists that he was born as a tumbler and belongs in space, and hence blames his drunken inability to walk as due to a difficulty in adjusting to the gravity on Earth. He insists that he has to become a hoofer, but refuses to, and at the end of the story even denounces his wife and child. It is ironic then, that by Hogey’s feet being stuck in the concrete, he has reluctantly become a hoofer as his feet are literally encased in the Earth. \n",
"Before Hogey’s feet are stuck in concrete, he keeps thinking about his time in space, despising people who live on Earth as he believes the spacers know what truly lies behind the fake phenomenon of the sun and moon seen from the Earth. He doesn’t realize the reality of living on Earth and the significance of his family. After Hogey’s feet are stuck in concrete, he hears his son crying when he is lying on the ground and trying to get his feet out of the concrete. The crying of the firstborn reminds him of the reality that he will live on Earth, with gravity, in the future. There will be no more space travel for him but maybe his son. He used to blame his return on his son and the overall situation, but after being stuck in the concrete and hearing his son crying, he realizes that it is not anyone’s fault that he is strongly influenced by the space life and fails to fulfill his responsibilities as a father and a husband. It is nobody’s but his fault for all the things that happened. He feels belonging to Earth after his feet are physically stuck tight to the earth.",
"After struggling with going to the house, Hogey finally decides to approach. As soon as his ex-wife’s brother appears outside, Hogey freezes and backs out of his plan of approaching the house. He seems to struggle a lot with the decision of either entering the house or not. After reconnecting with his dog, Hogey falls down, and his feet go into what seems to be muddy sand. Hogey doesn’t seem to care and falls asleep with his feet still inside. He wakes up a few hours later with the dog licking him, and he realizes that he was actually stuck in concrete. This gives him no choice but to call for help from the house, and he ends up being found by the men of the house. \n",
"Hogey’s feet being stuck in concrete shows that he has no chance to escape even if he wants to desperately. Throughout the entire story, he refers to himself as a tumbler with no place in a family. He battles with feelings of conflict for visiting his wife and child, believing that a tumbler has no right to a family. The concrete also forces him to confront his fears, even if he is not sure what he will say to Marie about money when he sees her. He contemplates leaving Hauptman's house a lot, but the concrete forces him to stay until he is found and brought back into the family. In a way, the concrete also makes him become a hoofer despite him constantly referring to himself as being different from everybody else. With his feet grounded to the earth, he has no choice but to also become a hoofer like everybody else. "
] |
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touched the water to his lips. It was cool and satisfying. He drank it, convinced completely. Eric asked, "And I am to destroy the City?" "Yes. The time has come." "But why?" Eric demanded. For an instant he could see the twinkling beauty as clearly as if he had stood outside the walls of this building. Kroon said, "There are difficulties. The machine builds according to the mass will of the people, though it is sensitive to the individual in areas where it does not conflict with the imagination of the mass. We have had strangers, visitors, and even our
on his head and began walking back to the canal. The return back to the city would always live in his mind as a phantasmagora, a montage of twisted hate and unseemly beauty. When he came again to the gate he did not attempt to enter, but circled the wall, hat on, hat off, stiff limbed like a puppet dancing to the same tune over and over again. He found a place where he could scale the wall, and thrust the helmet on his head, and clawed up the misshapen wall. It was all he could do to make himself
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
many days?" His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of those inhuman eyes. She fell face first to the floor. "I can't keep it up!" she cried. The sound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. "I cant! I cant!" A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. "Get up!" Rat stood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. "Get up!" She stared at him, dazed. He kicked her. "Get up!" The tepid water ran off her face and far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Rat was
Walton was very much afraid that his brother meant no good by this call. No good at all. III Roy Walton watched his brother's head and shoulders take form out of the swirl of colors on the screen. Fred Walton was more compact, built closer to the ground than his rangy brother; he was a squat five-seven, next to Roy's lean six-two. Fred had always threatened to "get even" with his older brother as soon as they were the same size, but to Fred's great dismay he had never managed to catch up with Roy in height. Even on the
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Who is Rourke, and what are his traits in the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Signal Red by Henry Guth.
Relevant chunks:
The Beast-Jewel of Mars By V. E. THIESSEN The city was strange, fantastic, beautiful. He'd never been there before, yet already he was a fabulous legend—a dire, hateful legend. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Spring 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] He lay on his stomach, a lean man in faded one piece dungarees, and an odd metallic hat, peering over the side of the canal. Behind him the little winds sifted red dust into his collar, but he could not move; he could only
she guiltily told herself, and it was his tremendous vitality.... It was like meeting a movie hero in the flesh, or a hero out of the pages of a book—Deer-slayer, John Clayton, Lord Greystoke. She waited in the doorway to the laboratory and made no move to join them, merely acknowledged the two with a nod and a smile and a casual lift of the hand. They nodded and smiled back. "Hello, June," said Pat and continued telling his tale, but as they passed he lightly touched her arm. "Oh, pioneer!" she said mockingly and softly to his passing profile,
rapidly repaired the damage he'd done. As he watched them, Jon was still curious, but he was getting mad underneath at the cold egoism of the Steel-Blues. By the shimmering clouds of Earth, by her green fields, and dark forests, he'd stay alive to warn the SP ship. Yes, he'd stay alive till then. And send the story of the Steel-Blues' corrosive acid to it. Then hundreds of Earth's ships could equip themselves with spray guns and squirt citric acid and watch the Steel-Blues fade away. It sounded almost silly to Jon Karyl. The fruit acid of Earth to repel
of fear. "Adapted us to Minos. He took human cells—" She listened intently, trying to find a reason for fear in the explanation. It would have taken many human generations to adapt to Minos by ordinary evolution, and that only at a heavy toll of death and hunger which evolution exacts. There was a shorter way: Human cells have the ability to return to their primeval condition of independence, hunting, eating and reproducing alone. Alexander P. Mead took human cells and made them into phagocytes. He put them through the hard savage school of evolution—a thousand generations of multiplication, hardship
ship people. It was Pat Mead. He stood in the doorway, alertly scanning the dining room. Sheer vitality made him seem even larger than he was. Sighting June, he smiled and began to thread toward their table. "Look!" said someone. "There's the colonist!" Shelia, a pretty, jeweled woman, followed and caught his arm. "Did you really swim across a river to come here?" Overflowing with good-will and curiosity, people approached from all directions. "Did you actually walk three hundred miles? Come, eat with us. Let me help choose your tray." Everyone wanted him to eat at their table, everyone was
Question:
Who is Rourke, and what are his traits in the story?
Answer:
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[
"Rourke is the lieutenant with the nicked jaw who Shano first meets at the air lock. He initially refuses the ticket and reminds Shano that there is a Red signal placed on the Stardust. He tells Shano that the latter is heading towards his funeral but still ends up punching his ticket. Rourke is indirectly mentioned when Shano asks the captain about nicked jaws, a question to which the captain responds that it happens when somebody has cut himself shaving. Rourke is later revealed to be a traitor loyal to the Uranians and attempts to sabotage the ship so that the Uranian fleet can force the Stardust to surrender. He is a manipulative individual, capable of convincing most crew members that he is innocent and means no harm. He also pretends to act surprised that Shano is on board, knowing that he will betray them to the Uranians. Rourke is also a very sneaky person. When the ship turns off all mechanics to avoid detection, he uses the opportunity to sneak into the engine room and mess up the ship’s controls. He can remain mostly undetected, only seen by Shano as he hurries into the room. ",
"Rourke is a lieutenant on the ship who has a nick on his jaw. This is believed to be a feature of those who sell out to Uranus. Rourke is a traitor, he planted an electronic signal box to give away the ship's position and provoke the Uranian attack.He didn't want Shano to get on board and warned him. Rourke is a chunky man with a blaster. He is young, strong and angry at Shano for getting involved. Rourke dies as a consequence of a fight with Shano who considers him a traitor. ",
"Rourke is the lieutenant of the ship, who is a nick-jawed Earthman. Rourke first refuses the ticket, stating that it is signal red. After having faint memories within his mind, he takes Shano’s ticket mentioning that it is his funeral. He is staring out to the viewport when Shano spots him later, Shano thinks that he is just idling. Later, he is suspiciously using the Engine Room emergency exit when Shano spots him again. He is chunky and holsters a flat blaster. He has weaker hands than Shano. And is killed by Shano. ",
"Rourke is the lieutenant of the starship ``Stardust\" who sells out the ship to the Uranians. He is clearly a very crooked character from this one act alone, taking personal gain over the lives of his crew. He is described as \"sullen\" and \"chunky\". His one redeeming quality that could be found would be in when he tried to convince Shano not to board that ship, thus he would have saved his life. He calls Shano an old man, clearly giving off a rude and unpleasant demeanor. He is a shifty, complicated character, because while he sold the ship out to the Uranians, and is not very polite, he did look out for Shano. \n"
] |
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The Beast-Jewel of Mars By V. E. THIESSEN The city was strange, fantastic, beautiful. He'd never been there before, yet already he was a fabulous legend—a dire, hateful legend. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Spring 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] He lay on his stomach, a lean man in faded one piece dungarees, and an odd metallic hat, peering over the side of the canal. Behind him the little winds sifted red dust into his collar, but he could not move; he could only
she guiltily told herself, and it was his tremendous vitality.... It was like meeting a movie hero in the flesh, or a hero out of the pages of a book—Deer-slayer, John Clayton, Lord Greystoke. She waited in the doorway to the laboratory and made no move to join them, merely acknowledged the two with a nod and a smile and a casual lift of the hand. They nodded and smiled back. "Hello, June," said Pat and continued telling his tale, but as they passed he lightly touched her arm. "Oh, pioneer!" she said mockingly and softly to his passing profile,
rapidly repaired the damage he'd done. As he watched them, Jon was still curious, but he was getting mad underneath at the cold egoism of the Steel-Blues. By the shimmering clouds of Earth, by her green fields, and dark forests, he'd stay alive to warn the SP ship. Yes, he'd stay alive till then. And send the story of the Steel-Blues' corrosive acid to it. Then hundreds of Earth's ships could equip themselves with spray guns and squirt citric acid and watch the Steel-Blues fade away. It sounded almost silly to Jon Karyl. The fruit acid of Earth to repel
of fear. "Adapted us to Minos. He took human cells—" She listened intently, trying to find a reason for fear in the explanation. It would have taken many human generations to adapt to Minos by ordinary evolution, and that only at a heavy toll of death and hunger which evolution exacts. There was a shorter way: Human cells have the ability to return to their primeval condition of independence, hunting, eating and reproducing alone. Alexander P. Mead took human cells and made them into phagocytes. He put them through the hard savage school of evolution—a thousand generations of multiplication, hardship
ship people. It was Pat Mead. He stood in the doorway, alertly scanning the dining room. Sheer vitality made him seem even larger than he was. Sighting June, he smiled and began to thread toward their table. "Look!" said someone. "There's the colonist!" Shelia, a pretty, jeweled woman, followed and caught his arm. "Did you really swim across a river to come here?" Overflowing with good-will and curiosity, people approached from all directions. "Did you actually walk three hundred miles? Come, eat with us. Let me help choose your tray." Everyone wanted him to eat at their table, everyone was
|
Who is Captain Linden and what happens to him throughout the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Serpent River by Don Wilcox.
Relevant chunks:
mission that huge and depressing in eight short, vanishing days? How had his people gotten into such a condition? As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown across space from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashing on this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women. When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffs from the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of the huge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upon a forge. Solar radiations drenched them.
Wanderers of the Wolf Moon By NELSON S. BOND They were marooned on Titan, their ship wrecked, the radio smashed. Yet they had to exist, had to build a new life on a hostile world. And the man who assumed command was Gregory Malcolm, the bespectacled secretary—whose only adventures had come through the pages of a book. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Spring 1944. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Sparks snapped off the switches and followed him to the door of the radio turret. Sparks
of futile sons? What can I do to save myself from dying eight days from now? Is there escape? His eyes widened, another image came to focus. Beyond this valley of cliffs, on a low mountain lay a perfect, unscarred metal seed. A metal ship, not rusted or touched by the avalanches. The ship was deserted, whole, intact. It was the only ship of all these that had crashed that was still a unit, still usable. But it was so far away. There was no one in it to help. This ship, then, on the far mountain, was the destiny
while the captain dodged and fired back—pitted his skill and knowledge against an enemy Shano couldn't see. He wanted desperately to help the captain break through, and get to Earth. But he could only cling to the plastic pipes and cough. The ship jounced and slid beneath his feet, and was filled with sound. It rocked and rolled. Shano caromed off the bulkhead. "Hold fire." He crawled to his knees on the slippery deck, grabbed the pipes and pulled himself erect, hand over hand. His eyes came level with the gray metal box behind the pipes. He squinted, fascinated, at
nicked jaws? And where had he heard them? Digging ore on Pluto; talk in the pits? Secretive suspicions voiced in smoke-laden saloons of Mars? In the labor gangs of Uranus? Where? Shano smoked and didn't know. But he knew there was a rumor, and that it was the talk of ignorant men. The captain had evaded it. Shano smoked and coughed and stared at the steel bulkhead and waited. The ship's alarm clanged. Shano jerked from his bunk like a broken watch spring. He crouched, trembling, on arthritic joints, as a loud-speaker blared throughout the ship. " All hands! We
Question:
Who is Captain Linden and what happens to him throughout the story?
Answer:
|
[
"Captain Linden is the leader of the first manned expedition from Earth to the planet that is inhabited by the Benzendella people. His sponsorship is from the Earth-Galaxy Good Will Expeditions, \"EGGWE\" for short. Because a previous rover had discovered a mysterious silver river and some humanoid creatures, Linden and his lieutenant were sent to discover more. He hoped that interacting with the humanoids would allow him to learn some cultural significance behind what he referred to as the Serpent River, which he also planned on studying scientifically. After he landed, while Campbell was monitoring the humanoids, he noticed that trees were moving towards the people, and sensed an incoming attack. He ordered Campbell to start a siren from their ship to distract the attackers, and later led the two of them to meet the local Benzendella people. He presented their leader with a token of friendship, a medallion that played music. As another attack started, and a guard fell, Linden tried to tend to the guard but was knocked out and did not regain consciousness for a few weeks. As he slowly healed and felt more normal, he had to warn himself to be careful around Vauna, the Benzendella leader's daughter, who had been watching him at his bedside. She was very beautiful, and he knew it was against mission code to marry locals. ",
"Captain Linden is the leader of the first expedition to the planet. The trip is sponsored by the Earth-Galaxy Good Will Expeditions (EGGWE). From images brought back to Earth by a roving camera, they know that humanoids live on the planet, and there is a huge rope or serpent-like object or creature moving continuously across the surface. He and Split Campbell cautiously land a good distance from the rope-like object in case it is dangerous. Although he is in command, Linden has a good sense of humor and likes to joke with and poke fun at Split; in fact, Linden is the one who gave him his nickname. Linden allows some gray area in following the Code, for example, encouraging Campbell to look through the telescope at the rope before Campbell has finished writing his reports. After exclaiming rather unprofessionally at what he sees, Linden “orders” him to take it easy. The two men are on their first voyage together, and Linden has entertained himself on the journey of millions of miles by teasing Campbell. Linden has been to six other planets, but none of them had beings that were so similar to humans; the ones on the current planet look like the human ancestors from one million years ago, and Linden is very excited about this. Linden senses that the humanoids are friendly and trusts his intuition; this is why he decides to help them when the other group attacks them. He tries to befriend the leader by offering him a singing medallion on a chain, but what really impresses them is the way he and Campbell help them when the attackers return. After the battle, Linden is hit in the head by a rock attached to the club that Gravgak used when Gravgak jumps up after being roused to consciousness. Linden suffers a head injury and is unconscious for several days. While he is recuperating, the humanoid leader’s daughter Vauna cares for him, and he falls in love with her. Linden reminds Campbell of Clause D of the EGGWE Code, which states that none of their agents can marry a native but then admits he is reminding himself of this, not Campbell. When Gravgak states he is ready to talk to Vauna alone, Linden reaches for her hand, letting her know his feelings about her. Her father orders them to come back to the group, and when Tomboldo announces the group is ready to move back to the other part of the world, he invites Linden and Campbell to go with them.\n",
"Captain Jim Linden leads a fact-finding mission on behalf of the EGGWE to discover the identity of a large, silvery, rope-like entity on a planet earmarked for the establishment of an inter-planetary trade agreement. Jim and his partner Split work together to observe the object, and, while doing so, they meet the local people called the Benzendella. Jim is a calm and effective leader; he has captained six similar missions in the past and is experienced in interacting with native populations in order to establish strong relationships for the EGGWE. This experience comes to bear when a hostile group attacks the Benzendellas, and Jim uses this as an opportunity to assist them with his ship's siren. This interaction establishes trust with the Benzendellas, and he moves to deepen that trust by giving a peace gift-- a music-playing medallion. After Jim and Split help save the Benzendellas from a second attack and revive Gravgak when he is wounded, the Benzendellas provide Jim and Split a place to stay as Jim recovers from his own injury. During his state of unconsciousness, Jim learns the Benzendella language and falls in love with Vauna, Tomboldo's daughter.",
"Captain Linden is a member of the Earth-Galaxy Good Will Expeditions (EGGWE) and Lieteuant “Split” Campbell’s superior officer. He is a confident man and loves teasing Split. After having been on one expedition before, Linden and Split were ready to arrive on this planet and investigate the Serpent River. As they look out at the seemingly-barren world through their telescope, Linden notices people emerging from underground. He watches in awe as they all gather around one man and a woman, seemingly about to perform some sort of ritual. The shadows of the trees move, but he sees nothing abnormal about this. Warriors rush out of the trees to attack the Benzendella, so Captian Linden saves them by having Split press the siren button, #16. He uses the EGGWE code of conduct when addressing the leader, Tomboldo, and offers him a gift. They are invited underground to their home but are attacked by the warriors again before they can descend. Gravgak is injured, so Linden and Split try to take care of him. When he awakens, he smashes his club into Linden’s head, possibly on purpose. \nLinden wakes, days later, underground with Vauna by his side. Vauna is Tomboldo’s daughter, and Linden quickly develops feelings for her. The EGGWE code forbids its members to marry any natives, and he reminds himself of that. \nHe speaks with Tomboldo and Gravgak, the latter of which explains that it was an accident, though the look in his eyes and his tone of voice says otherwise. Tomboldo invites Linden and Split to join them on their journey aboard the Serpent River, as they travel across the planet looking for safety. \n"
] |
50923
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mission that huge and depressing in eight short, vanishing days? How had his people gotten into such a condition? As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown across space from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashing on this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women. When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffs from the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of the huge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upon a forge. Solar radiations drenched them.
Wanderers of the Wolf Moon By NELSON S. BOND They were marooned on Titan, their ship wrecked, the radio smashed. Yet they had to exist, had to build a new life on a hostile world. And the man who assumed command was Gregory Malcolm, the bespectacled secretary—whose only adventures had come through the pages of a book. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Spring 1944. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Sparks snapped off the switches and followed him to the door of the radio turret. Sparks
of futile sons? What can I do to save myself from dying eight days from now? Is there escape? His eyes widened, another image came to focus. Beyond this valley of cliffs, on a low mountain lay a perfect, unscarred metal seed. A metal ship, not rusted or touched by the avalanches. The ship was deserted, whole, intact. It was the only ship of all these that had crashed that was still a unit, still usable. But it was so far away. There was no one in it to help. This ship, then, on the far mountain, was the destiny
while the captain dodged and fired back—pitted his skill and knowledge against an enemy Shano couldn't see. He wanted desperately to help the captain break through, and get to Earth. But he could only cling to the plastic pipes and cough. The ship jounced and slid beneath his feet, and was filled with sound. It rocked and rolled. Shano caromed off the bulkhead. "Hold fire." He crawled to his knees on the slippery deck, grabbed the pipes and pulled himself erect, hand over hand. His eyes came level with the gray metal box behind the pipes. He squinted, fascinated, at
nicked jaws? And where had he heard them? Digging ore on Pluto; talk in the pits? Secretive suspicions voiced in smoke-laden saloons of Mars? In the labor gangs of Uranus? Where? Shano smoked and didn't know. But he knew there was a rumor, and that it was the talk of ignorant men. The captain had evaded it. Shano smoked and coughed and stared at the steel bulkhead and waited. The ship's alarm clanged. Shano jerked from his bunk like a broken watch spring. He crouched, trembling, on arthritic joints, as a loud-speaker blared throughout the ship. " All hands! We
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What is the relationship like between Jeff and Ann?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Butterfly 9 by Donald Keith.
Relevant chunks:
to watching Pat Mead. She felt disloyal. Pat was only a superb animal. Max was the man she loved. Or—was he? Of course he was, she told herself angrily. They had gone colonizing together because they wanted to spend their lives together; she had never thought of marrying any other man. Yet the sense of dissatisfaction persisted, and along with it a feeling of guilt. Len Marlow, the protein tank-culture technician responsible for the mushroom steaks, had wormed his way into the group and asked Pat a question. Now he was saying, "I don't dig you, Pat. It sounds like
Matthews ... and Prior. How much duller life would be without them, Walton thought, picturing his bookshelf—his one bookshelf, in his crowded little cubicle of a one-room home. Sweat poured down his back as he groped toward his decision. The step he was considering would disqualify him from his job if he admitted it, though he wouldn't do that. Under the Equalization Law, it would be a criminal act. But just one baby wouldn't matter. Just one. Prior's baby. With nervous fingers he switched on the annunciator and said, "If there are any calls for me, take the message. I'll
you're putting the people into the tanks instead of the vegetables!" He glanced at them, looking puzzled. "See if you two can make anything of this. It sounds medical to me." Pat leaned back and smiled, sipping a glass of hydroponic burgundy. "Wonderful stuff. You'll have to show us how to make it." Len turned back to him. "You people live off the country, right? You hunt and bring in steaks and eat them, right? Well, say I have one of those steaks right here and I want to eat it, what happens?" "Go ahead and eat it. It just
was the disease?" Hal Barton asked. "Pretty gruesome, according to my father. They called it the melting sickness. The doctors died too soon to find out what it was or what to do about it." "You should have trained for more doctors, or sent to civilization for some." A trace of impatience was in George Barton's voice. Pat Mead explained patiently, "Our ship, with the power plant and all the books we needed, went off into the sky to avoid the contagion, and never came back. The crew must have died." Long years of hardship were indicated by that statement,
was wearing nothing but a loin cloth and his weapons, and the wind ruffled his hair. He looked comfortable, and they longed to take off the stuffy spacesuits and feel the wind against their own skins. Minos was like home, like Earth.... But they were strangers. "Plague," Pat Mead said thoughtfully. "We had one here. It came two years after the colony arrived and killed everyone except the Mead families. They were immune. I guess we look alike because we're all related, and that's why I grew up thinking that it is the only way people can look." Plague. "What
Question:
What is the relationship like between Jeff and Ann?
Answer:
|
[
"Jeff and Ann Elliott are a married couple. Ann is supportive of Jeff, and assures him that with their youth he will be able to rebuild his failed business. She reassures him throughout the story, even at points where it ultimately leads them into deeper trouble - such as when she tells him it wouldn’t hurt to try Mr. Snader’s time travel. \n\nJeff is protective of Ann on several occasions, like at the start of the story suggesting he would start a brawl at the restaurant if the stranger was interested in Ann’s beauty. He is also upset enough with his business struggles that he needs to take sleeping pills, of which Ann is concerned about the amount.\n\nThey remain together in the story until they are held in separate jail cells. They do not have any major disagreements in the story, and seem to enjoy their time together, only hoping to improve their lot by trying a risky time travel adventure.\n",
"Jeff and Ann have a loving and supportive relationship. When Jeff is feeling down on himself, Ann reminds him that he’s great at his job and that he has plenty of time to bounce back. She worries about the number of pills he’s taking, and she insists that he stop worrying about losing his lease. She is genuinely concerned for his mental health and his overall well-being. The couple can easily joke around with one another. When Ann suggests that Snader might be following them, she makes light of the situation by suggesting that it’s because he’s attracted to her. Jeff, in turn, offers to physically assault him if he tries anything. After meeting Mr. Snader, both Jeff and Ann have a good time playing along with the scenario they never imagined themselves being a part of. It doesn’t take a lot of prodding on Ann’s part to make Jeff go to the station with her and Snader. They both have a devil-may-care attitude that makes this adventure worth checking out. \n\nLater, when they find themselves in a heap of trouble and end up in separate jail cells, Jeff can only think of Ann. He worries about her being all alone for the night. \n",
"Jeff and Ann are like many married couples; when one is down or frightened, the other tries to build him up or assure him that all will be fine. They switch between these roles with each other easily, suggesting that they have been married a good while. Ann is supportive of Jeff’s career and his skills, assuring him that he will be able to start over and be successful again. She also teases him and makes humorous comments to lighten his mood. When they disagree with each other, it isn’t antagonistic. When Jeff wants to leave but Ann wants to hear what Snader has to say, she simply puts her hand on Jeff’s arm and says she hasn’t finished eating and would like to hear what Snader has to say. Jeff and Ann also play off of each other. When Ann jumps up to see what Snader wants to show them, Jeff’s pulse picks up as he entertains the idea, too. They make decisions together; when Jeff is undecided about going into the apartment building, he looks to Ann to see her reaction. When she says they might as well go inside and see what is there, Jeff agrees and goes along with her. They make a good team: Bullen’s comment that Jeff is going to make his company be the first to produce chromatics, Jeff’s takes affront at the man’s boldness, and Ann is likewise disturbed.\n",
"Jeff and Ann react differently to most things, but in a way where they are able to balance each other out. For instance, when they meet Snader at the beginning of the story, Jeff is frustrated with the interruption to his dinner and does not want to hear more about what he thinks is bogus, but Ann is curious and wants to hear Snader out, to be entertained if nothing else. Ann is very supportive of Jeff and the story starts with her trying to console him about the recent failure of his business venture as a lease on a building he was using had ended. While reassuring him, she reminds him that he is excellent at what he does and have no trouble starting up again, but Jeff is feeling very grumpy and sad about the entire situation. Jeff is very cautious, and is concerned when he hears Snader use his last name, because he had never given the man his name. Ann is more on the curious side, willing to give anything a try, including a method of time travel she only knew about from a stranger she encountered at a restaurant. She does get a little bit nervous once she has actually stepped inside the device, but the fear dissipates once she is outside again in a whole new world. Although Jeff starts the story upset, he remains mostly calm throughout the story and even when he is hesitant he does not become overwhelmed with fear at his situation. He and Ann both have to encounter some issues with their money not working, and sorting out what to make of their situation, but they support each other and keep each other calm throughout the story. "
] |
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to watching Pat Mead. She felt disloyal. Pat was only a superb animal. Max was the man she loved. Or—was he? Of course he was, she told herself angrily. They had gone colonizing together because they wanted to spend their lives together; she had never thought of marrying any other man. Yet the sense of dissatisfaction persisted, and along with it a feeling of guilt. Len Marlow, the protein tank-culture technician responsible for the mushroom steaks, had wormed his way into the group and asked Pat a question. Now he was saying, "I don't dig you, Pat. It sounds like
Matthews ... and Prior. How much duller life would be without them, Walton thought, picturing his bookshelf—his one bookshelf, in his crowded little cubicle of a one-room home. Sweat poured down his back as he groped toward his decision. The step he was considering would disqualify him from his job if he admitted it, though he wouldn't do that. Under the Equalization Law, it would be a criminal act. But just one baby wouldn't matter. Just one. Prior's baby. With nervous fingers he switched on the annunciator and said, "If there are any calls for me, take the message. I'll
you're putting the people into the tanks instead of the vegetables!" He glanced at them, looking puzzled. "See if you two can make anything of this. It sounds medical to me." Pat leaned back and smiled, sipping a glass of hydroponic burgundy. "Wonderful stuff. You'll have to show us how to make it." Len turned back to him. "You people live off the country, right? You hunt and bring in steaks and eat them, right? Well, say I have one of those steaks right here and I want to eat it, what happens?" "Go ahead and eat it. It just
was the disease?" Hal Barton asked. "Pretty gruesome, according to my father. They called it the melting sickness. The doctors died too soon to find out what it was or what to do about it." "You should have trained for more doctors, or sent to civilization for some." A trace of impatience was in George Barton's voice. Pat Mead explained patiently, "Our ship, with the power plant and all the books we needed, went off into the sky to avoid the contagion, and never came back. The crew must have died." Long years of hardship were indicated by that statement,
was wearing nothing but a loin cloth and his weapons, and the wind ruffled his hair. He looked comfortable, and they longed to take off the stuffy spacesuits and feel the wind against their own skins. Minos was like home, like Earth.... But they were strangers. "Plague," Pat Mead said thoughtfully. "We had one here. It came two years after the colony arrived and killed everyone except the Mead families. They were immune. I guess we look alike because we're all related, and that's why I grew up thinking that it is the only way people can look." Plague. "What
|
Who is Whonk, and what is his relevance to the story?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Aide Memoire by Keith Laumer.
Relevant chunks:
and didn't look at her. "You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock." "I can take it." Suddenly she smiled, wanly. "I was with the Fleet. How long will it take?" "Eight days, in that ship." Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Peterson was harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small ship meant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days in that untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl and Gladney. "Who was that ... man? The one you put out?" Gray
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
provided the answer by alighting at the lip with a jar that shook the ship. He was breathing heavily and lugging something in his arms. The burden groaned. "Gladney!" Nurse Gray exclaimed. "I got." Rat confirmed. "Yes, Gladney. Damn heavy, Gladney." "But how?" she demanded. "What of Roberds and Peterson?" "Trick," he sniggered. "I burn down my shack. Boss run out. I run in. Very simple." He packed Gladney into the remaining hammock and snapped buckles. "And Peterson?" she prompted. "Oh yes. Peterson. So sorry about Peterson. Had to fan him." " Fan him? I don't understand." "Fan. With chair.
Get away before your body becomes a husk, a soulless husk to walk the low canals with sightless eyes, like those who came before you. He strained to push back from the edge, trying to get that fantastic beauty out of his sight. He fought the lids of his eyes, fought to close them while he pushed himself back, but they remained open, staring at the jeweled towers, and borne on the little winds the thin wail of music reached him, saying, Come into the city, come down into the fabled city . He slid over the edge, sliding down
she guiltily told herself, and it was his tremendous vitality.... It was like meeting a movie hero in the flesh, or a hero out of the pages of a book—Deer-slayer, John Clayton, Lord Greystoke. She waited in the doorway to the laboratory and made no move to join them, merely acknowledged the two with a nod and a smile and a casual lift of the hand. They nodded and smiled back. "Hello, June," said Pat and continued telling his tale, but as they passed he lightly touched her arm. "Oh, pioneer!" she said mockingly and softly to his passing profile,
Question:
Who is Whonk, and what is his relevance to the story?
Answer:
|
[
"Whonk is a very old Fustian who works as a clerk at the shipyards. He meets Retief when Retief comes to to inquire about seeing plans for the new passenger liner. Whonk is neutral and correct, but not especially friendly. His partnership, and it seems fair to say, friendship with Retief really begins when Retief returns to the shipyard to look for Whonk and finds that the Fustian thugs who tried and failed to kill him, due to his thick, mature skin and shell, have left him tied up, in an undignified position on his back.\nRetief apologizes for putting him in danger, and gets the old Fustian back on his feet. Whonk is so grateful that he tells Retief, “My cows are yours,” a heartfelt, traditional Fustian expression of gratitude. \nWhonk is extremely angry about what the Fustian Slock and his gang have done to him, and throws in his lot with Retief. Thereafter, every time Retief is in physical danger from Fustians, Whonk is right there to help. \nAt the end of the story, Whonk steps in again to help Retief capture Yith, a member of the Groaci diplomatic mission, and Slock the rebel adult Fustian with no carapace. His desire for vengeance against these two nearly overwhelms his good sense. He puts Slock on the Moss Rose with the titanite that Slock had intended to use against Fustian politicians, and sets the rocket to blast off to Groaci, knowing that it would below up before it got there. \nBut Retief manages to settle him down enough not to take Yith apart piece by piece, by getting the Groaci to do something that would make Whonk’s life a lot easier and more pleasant: surgically remove his carapace. \nWhonk is steadfast, reliable, implacable – a good sidekick for Retief.\n",
"Whonk is the older Fustian who helps Retief uncover the Groacian plot. He is looking after papers when Retief asks to see the plans of the new ship being built, but is hurt by the gang members and Youths that come in after Retief leaves. He is still willing to help Retief after this, and the two of them work together to piece together their evidence. Being older means that Whonk has a very heavy shell that keeps him from moving quickly, but he is very strong--he manages to capture a number of characters throughout the story to keep them from running away. Not only is Whonk the reason Retief was able to confirm that the new ship was indeed meant to be a battle cruiser, helping to uncover the plot, but the two of them become friends and go on a fishing trip together at the end of the story.",
"Whonk is an elderly Fustian who works managing documents at the shipyard where Retief goes to investigate the new passenger ship being built there. Whonk shares the documents with Retief, who notices its similarities to a defunct ship design that had been previously used in combat. Whonk educates Retief on the rebellious ways of the younger Fustians before they witness a Groaci military attache consulting with some youth outside his office. The youth attack Whonk after Retief’s departure, nearly severing his head. When Retief returns to help him, Whonk is very grateful and continues to help Retief on his mission to discover the real connection between the Groaci and SCARS. Whonk guides Retief to the “Moss Rock” and helps Retief defeat yet another group of attacking youth. Whonk discovers that one of the youths is not a youth at all but rather an older Fustian with a detached shell. He is baffled by this. After a fracas at the sponsorship ceremony, Retief captures the Groaci attaché, and Whonk apprehends Slock, whom he quickly discovers is also an older Fustian with a surgically-removed shell. Retief convinces Whonk to forego his act of vengeance on the Groaci, and in exchange the Groaci would provide the elders of Fust with the same surgical procedure provided to the SCARS members. Pleased with this arrangement, Whonk agrees, but he is still seeking vengeance. He places Slock aboard the “Moss Rock” and sends it on a path to Groaci. The ship explodes on the way, killing Slock, and sending a message to the Groaci to stay away from Fust.",
"Whonk is an older Fustian who is very polite and helpful to Retief. He lets Retief look at the blueprints for the passenger ship that the younger Fustians are building with the Groacis and then apologizes for the rudeness of the younger Fustian who confronts Retief for looking at the plans. Whonk becomes Retief’s ally right away; he holds off the younger Fustians who come back to confront Retief, giving Retief a chance to sneak out the back door. After two younger Fustians tell Retief they want his films from his pictures of the plans, he realizes they must have gotten the information about the pictures from Whonk and knew Whonk wouldn’t have given it to them freely. When he checks on Whonk, he finds him tied up. The younger Fustians had tried to kill him. From then on, the two work together, checking the Moss Rock for explosives that have been removed from the storage area. When attackers come, Whonk protects Retief and blocks the attackers with his carapace. Whonk provides Retief with information that he needs to determine who is involved in criminal activity and what that criminal activity is. At the end of the story, he provides justice for Slock by putting him aboard the Moss Rock before it blows up so that he gets his just rewards. When everything settles, Whonk offers to take Retief on a fishing vacation."
] |
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and didn't look at her. "You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock." "I can take it." Suddenly she smiled, wanly. "I was with the Fleet. How long will it take?" "Eight days, in that ship." Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Peterson was harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small ship meant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days in that untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl and Gladney. "Who was that ... man? The one you put out?" Gray
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
provided the answer by alighting at the lip with a jar that shook the ship. He was breathing heavily and lugging something in his arms. The burden groaned. "Gladney!" Nurse Gray exclaimed. "I got." Rat confirmed. "Yes, Gladney. Damn heavy, Gladney." "But how?" she demanded. "What of Roberds and Peterson?" "Trick," he sniggered. "I burn down my shack. Boss run out. I run in. Very simple." He packed Gladney into the remaining hammock and snapped buckles. "And Peterson?" she prompted. "Oh yes. Peterson. So sorry about Peterson. Had to fan him." " Fan him? I don't understand." "Fan. With chair.
Get away before your body becomes a husk, a soulless husk to walk the low canals with sightless eyes, like those who came before you. He strained to push back from the edge, trying to get that fantastic beauty out of his sight. He fought the lids of his eyes, fought to close them while he pushed himself back, but they remained open, staring at the jeweled towers, and borne on the little winds the thin wail of music reached him, saying, Come into the city, come down into the fabled city . He slid over the edge, sliding down
she guiltily told herself, and it was his tremendous vitality.... It was like meeting a movie hero in the flesh, or a hero out of the pages of a book—Deer-slayer, John Clayton, Lord Greystoke. She waited in the doorway to the laboratory and made no move to join them, merely acknowledged the two with a nod and a smile and a casual lift of the hand. They nodded and smiled back. "Hello, June," said Pat and continued telling his tale, but as they passed he lightly touched her arm. "Oh, pioneer!" she said mockingly and softly to his passing profile,
|
Who is Kay Smith, and what are her characteristics?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Girls from Fieu Dayol by Robert F. Young.
Relevant chunks:
a neat bundle, attached his name, and dropped it into the chute. "The woman, Murra Foray, the first counselor. She's a Huntner." "What's a Huntner?" "A sub-race of men on the other side of the Galaxy. She was vocalizing about her home planet when I managed to locate her." "Any other information?" "None. Electronic guards were sliding into place as soon as I reached her. I got out as fast as I could." "I see." The significance of that, if any, escaped him. Nevertheless, it sounded depressing. "What I want to know is," said Dimanche, "why such precautions as electronic
a lot?" She nodded. "Fitzgerald's my favorite author." She started around the table, hesitated, suddenly grew shy. "Would you like some lemonade?" He'd noticed the dewed silver pitcher, but only now realized his thirst. Yet when she handed him a glass, he held it untasted and said awkwardly, "I haven't introduced myself. I'm Jack Barry." She stared at his outstretched right hand, slowly extended her own toward it, shook it up and down exactly once, then quickly dropped it. He chuckled and gulped some lemonade. "I'm a biology student. Been working at Wood's Hole the first part of the summer.
bound to develop differently." "Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identical twins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They met by accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman. Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a fox terrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environments similar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each of them had exactly the same experiences at the same times...." For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and
was with Dawn, who happens to be a gorgeous redhead who could put Marge to shame on practically any field of battle except maybe brains, I kept thinking about Marge all evening long, and wondering if things weren't getting just a little out of hand. The next evening I almost tripped over George Prime coming out of a liquor store. I ducked quickly into an alley and flagged him. " What are you doing out on the street? " He gave me my martyred look. "Just buying some bourbon. You were out." "But you're not supposed to be off the
Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Raiders of the Second Moon By GENE ELLERMAN A strange destiny had erased Noork's memory, and had brought him to this tiny world—to write an end to his first existence. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Summer 1945. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Beyond earth swings that airless pocked mass of fused rock and gray volcanic dust that we know as Luna. Of this our naked eyes assure us. But of the
Question:
Who is Kay Smith, and what are her characteristics?
Answer:
|
[
"She is tall with hyacinth long hair and blue eyes. Her skin is glowingly white. Her body shape is Grecian symmetric. She fascinates Herbert Quidley, a man who finds out the secret letter in Taine’s book, when she walks in the library. She is the receiver of secret messages in the book, and she goes to the library almost every day to pick up the letter in the book. She wears a pleated skirt when Herbert Quidley spills the sugar on her thighs. She speaks with a slight accent that she pronounces “interesting” with “anteresting.” She walks demurely. She wears a dress that exposes a lot of her skin when she goes to Quidley’s apartment, which indicates her intention to have sexual behaviors with him. She owns a convertible, and her purse hides a gun. She is the stock girl on the ship to Fieu Dayol, and her job is to deliver guns to her members, which is why she goes to the library to pick up the secret letters, the requisitions for the guns. It is revealed at the end that she comes to the Earth to bring men to her planet.",
"Kay Smith is a beautiful girl who is pursued by Herbert. Kay uses a bookmark and a book to communicate with her friends. At the end we learn that Kay comes from an alien planet, and that she uses the books to communicate with her crew of women who also came from her planet. We also learn that Kay is looking for a mate to take to her planet, as there aren’t enough men for each woman in her home planet. Kay ends up taking Herbert hostage into her ship in order to make him her mate.",
"\nKay Smith is a tall woman with hyacinth hair and liquid blue eyes. She also has the Grecian symmetry of shape that instantly caught Quidley’s attention. Kay is described as a mysterious person, going to the library to leave messages in the Taine book. Later, when she meets Quidley at the coffee shop, Kay is shown to be very polite. She is also straightforward as well, telling him that they will be meeting at his apartment even though Quidley does not usually make this exception. Although Kay is a pleasant person, she does become more assertive once she is found out. She forces Quidley to come with her, calling him the man who compromised her. When Quidley does not want to go back to Fieu Dayol with her, she threatens him with her snoll doper. ",
"Kay Smith is a young girl from Fieu Dayol. She came to Earth to get a male partner and is the ship’s stock girl. She is quite confident when she talks to Quidley. She is determined and charming - Kay manages to seduce Quidley very quickly and then orders him to reschedule the dinner. She is pragmatic and sly - we understand that after noticing how she can change the way she converses with Quidley and be both talkative and secretive, depending on her personal goal. Kay is good at planning and manages to almost lure Quidley into the ship by just concealing the information that can alienate him. She knows how to use a weapon. "
] |
61048
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a neat bundle, attached his name, and dropped it into the chute. "The woman, Murra Foray, the first counselor. She's a Huntner." "What's a Huntner?" "A sub-race of men on the other side of the Galaxy. She was vocalizing about her home planet when I managed to locate her." "Any other information?" "None. Electronic guards were sliding into place as soon as I reached her. I got out as fast as I could." "I see." The significance of that, if any, escaped him. Nevertheless, it sounded depressing. "What I want to know is," said Dimanche, "why such precautions as electronic
a lot?" She nodded. "Fitzgerald's my favorite author." She started around the table, hesitated, suddenly grew shy. "Would you like some lemonade?" He'd noticed the dewed silver pitcher, but only now realized his thirst. Yet when she handed him a glass, he held it untasted and said awkwardly, "I haven't introduced myself. I'm Jack Barry." She stared at his outstretched right hand, slowly extended her own toward it, shook it up and down exactly once, then quickly dropped it. He chuckled and gulped some lemonade. "I'm a biology student. Been working at Wood's Hole the first part of the summer.
bound to develop differently." "Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identical twins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They met by accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman. Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a fox terrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environments similar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each of them had exactly the same experiences at the same times...." For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and
was with Dawn, who happens to be a gorgeous redhead who could put Marge to shame on practically any field of battle except maybe brains, I kept thinking about Marge all evening long, and wondering if things weren't getting just a little out of hand. The next evening I almost tripped over George Prime coming out of a liquor store. I ducked quickly into an alley and flagged him. " What are you doing out on the street? " He gave me my martyred look. "Just buying some bourbon. You were out." "But you're not supposed to be off the
Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Raiders of the Second Moon By GENE ELLERMAN A strange destiny had erased Noork's memory, and had brought him to this tiny world—to write an end to his first existence. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Summer 1945. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Beyond earth swings that airless pocked mass of fused rock and gray volcanic dust that we know as Luna. Of this our naked eyes assure us. But of the
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What is the relationship between Edna and Harry?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Breakdown by Herbert D. Kastle.
Relevant chunks:
ease—and Fred knew, too. His brother, and his father-substitute. FitzMaugham might well choose to conceal Roy's defection this time, but would surely place less trust in him in the future. And as for Fred.... There was no telling what Fred might do. They had never been particularly close as brothers; they had lived with their parents (now almost totally forgotten) until Roy was nine and Fred seven. Their parents had gone down off Maracaibo in a jet crash; Roy and Fred had been sent to the public crèche. After that it had been separate paths for the brothers. For Roy,
an education in the law, a short spell as Senator FitzMaugham's private secretary, followed last month by his sudden elevation to assistant administrator of the newly-created Popeek Bureau. For Fred, medicine, unsuccessful private practice, finally a job in the Happysleep section of Popeek, thanks to Roy.
many days?" His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of those inhuman eyes. She fell face first to the floor. "I can't keep it up!" she cried. The sound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. "I cant! I cant!" A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. "Get up!" Rat stood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. "Get up!" She stared at him, dazed. He kicked her. "Get up!" The tepid water ran off her face and far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Rat was
... and life. "Hello, Mr. Walton. What brings you down here?" Walton smiled affably. "Just a routine investigation, Doctor. I try to keep in touch with every department we have, you know." "Mr. FitzMaugham was down here to look around a little while ago. We're really getting a going-over today, Mr. Walton!" "Umm. Yes." Walton didn't like that, but there was nothing he could do about it. He'd have to rely on the old man's abiding faith in his protégé to pull him out of any possible stickiness that arose. "Seen my brother around?" he asked. "Fred? He's working in
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
Question:
What is the relationship between Edna and Harry?
Answer:
|
[
"Harry and Edna Burr are married. Initially, Edna is very concerned about Harry because of the strange memories that he experiences. She tries to plead with him to see a doctor, but he refuses to believe it. Harry is seen getting impatient with Edna, mainly because she is confused about the questions or people that he talks about. Even though she is concerned, Edna is good at comforting Harry. When he complains about the lack of meat, she tells him that they will have some multi-pro for lunch. The two of them split their duties as well, with Edna doing a lot of the housework and Harry doing the more manual labor. She also tries to suggest activities to do, such as asking what’s on the channel for this week. Edna loves Harry very much, but she does encourage him to seek a doctor to help his mental health. At the end, when Harry returns from his treatment, she asks if he has gone out to break any regulations. He only laughs and says he would rather kill a pig than do that. ",
"Harry and Edna are husband and wife who both live on their farm, next to their neighbours Walt and Gloria. Harry appears to be increasing confused and distorted in his memory of the places, people and things around. Because of this, Edna is worried about him and wishes for him to visit the doctor's office. Harry constantly refuses her request, for he is unwilling to admit anything is wrong with him and that he does not want to see an unfamiliar doctor. Supposedly the two of them have a son together named Davie. However, when Harry accidentally mentions him as a figment of his dream, Edna doesn't correct him that he passed or of his existence, and so Harry assumes from her that Davie was not real. \n\nWhen the neighbors come over for dinner, Harry slips up again and Edna begins to cry. He decides to go out for a walk and potentially sleep there like he had done as a kid as to not further worry her. \n\nAt the end of the story after his visit to his doctor, Edna is relieved. She expresses that she thought Harry may have gone off somewhere - but after gone to the doctors - Harry would never have dreamt to do such a thing. ",
"Harry and Edna are in a marital relationship. Harry is Edna’s husband, and Edna is Harry’s wife. Edna cares for Harry a lot. Whenever Harry behaves as if he forgets the reality and sinks into the seemingly fake memory, she always asks him to see the doctor even though he never accepts her advice. Harry gains a lot of information about the present from Edna as he cannot remembers a lot of things, or to say, his memory is mismatched with what Edna has told him. Harry cherishes Edna so much that he can’t bear to see her cry. When Edna was crying, he would speak softly and kiss her.",
"Throughout the story, Edna becomes more and more upset because of Harry’s strange behavior. At the beginning, after Harry mentions their non-existent son, meat, and their dead family doctor, she starts crying and asks him to see a doctor. He tells her he’s still half-asleep. During breakfast, he gets irritated by how she calmly accepts the rations and the state limitations on food and travel. He makes several unordinary remarks during the day and makes seemingly strange comments about their neighbors' children. After their friends leave, she starts crying and asking Harry to see a doctor. Harry cannot stand her crying and goes for a walk. In the end, their relationship is supposed to get better since doctor Hamming improved his mental state."
] |
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ease—and Fred knew, too. His brother, and his father-substitute. FitzMaugham might well choose to conceal Roy's defection this time, but would surely place less trust in him in the future. And as for Fred.... There was no telling what Fred might do. They had never been particularly close as brothers; they had lived with their parents (now almost totally forgotten) until Roy was nine and Fred seven. Their parents had gone down off Maracaibo in a jet crash; Roy and Fred had been sent to the public crèche. After that it had been separate paths for the brothers. For Roy,
an education in the law, a short spell as Senator FitzMaugham's private secretary, followed last month by his sudden elevation to assistant administrator of the newly-created Popeek Bureau. For Fred, medicine, unsuccessful private practice, finally a job in the Happysleep section of Popeek, thanks to Roy.
many days?" His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of those inhuman eyes. She fell face first to the floor. "I can't keep it up!" she cried. The sound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. "I cant! I cant!" A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. "Get up!" Rat stood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. "Get up!" She stared at him, dazed. He kicked her. "Get up!" The tepid water ran off her face and far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Rat was
... and life. "Hello, Mr. Walton. What brings you down here?" Walton smiled affably. "Just a routine investigation, Doctor. I try to keep in touch with every department we have, you know." "Mr. FitzMaugham was down here to look around a little while ago. We're really getting a going-over today, Mr. Walton!" "Umm. Yes." Walton didn't like that, but there was nothing he could do about it. He'd have to rely on the old man's abiding faith in his protégé to pull him out of any possible stickiness that arose. "Seen my brother around?" he asked. "Fred? He's working in
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
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How are Opperly and Farquar alike and different?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Appointment In Tomorrow by Fritz Leiber.
Relevant chunks:
own far flung kind to return." Eric nodded. He asked, "What happens now?" "Nothing. Dwell here with us and you will be safe from our people. If the prediction is not soon fulfilled and you are not the Eric of the Legend, you may stay or go as you desire." "My brother, Garve. What about him?" "He loves the city. He will also stay, though he will be outside this building." Kroon clasped his hands. "Nolette, will you show Eric his quarters?"
like you and me?" Patrick Mead took another look at their four faces and began to grin. "Like me, I guess. But I hadn't thought of it before. I did not think that people could have different colored hair or that noses could fit so many ways onto faces. I was judging by my own appearance, but I suppose any fool can walk on his hands and say the world is upside down!" He laughed and sobered. "But then why wear spacesuits? The air is breathable." "For safety," June told him. "We can't take any chances on plague." Pat Mead
shipshape. You make likewise." Forcibly he shoved her into a hammock. "Wrap up tight. Straps tight. When we go, we go fast. Bang!" And he left her. "Hey! Where are you going now?" "To get Gladney. He sick too. Hush hush!" His voice floated back. "Where has he gone?" Judith called. "Back for another man. Remember the two miners who found us when we crashed? The burly one fell off a rock-bank as they were bringing us in. Stove in his ribs pretty badly. The other has a broken arm ... happened once while you were out. They wouldn't let
looked into the far future. She said, "He is Eric the Bronze. I have no doubt." Eric asked, "And what is this Legend of Eric the Bronze? Why am I so despised in the city?" Kroon answered, "According to the Ancient Legend you will destroy the city. This, and other things." Eric gaped. No wonder the crowd had shown such hatred. But why were the elders so friendly? They were obviously the governing body, and if there was strife between them and the people it had not shown in the respect the crowd had accorded Nolette. Kroon said, "I see
gone, and then he saw a note clipped to the control board of the ship. He tore it loose impatiently and began to read. Garve had scrawled: "Funny thing, Eric. A while ago I thought I heard music. I walked down to the canal, and it seemed like there were lights, and a town of some sort far down the canal. I wanted to investigate, but thought I'd better come back. But the thing has been in my mind for hours now, and I'm going down to see what it is. If you want to follow, come straight down the
Question:
How are Opperly and Farquar alike and different?
Answer:
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[
"Opperly and Farquar are both physicists. They both have the same role in society as possessing knowledge and abilities to create technology and machinery. However, despite their similar titles, they are drastically different, both in appearance and character. Opperly is an elderly man, who looks timid and meek, though wise, next to the young, large, and impulsive Farquar. Opperly acts as a rational voice, discouraging Farquar from his rebellious and violent nature, specifically towards the Thinkers. Opperly, having lived through history, is hesitant to threaten the authority of the Thinkers and instead understands that society is in need of them. He believes that scientists should not have a place in taking action and being violent, and instead should allow the Thinkers to uphold the nation. Farquar, on the other hand, is a man of action who believes the Thinkers are immoral and inauthentic. He contrasts Opperly's reasonable nature with passion and free thinking.",
"Morton Opperly and Willard Farquar are both physicists, though they hail from different generations. They share in the knowledge that the Thinkers’ have deceived members at the highest level of government and have exposed them, to little success. Opperly, an older physicist from the age of academic scientists, is reserved and skeptical about future attempts to do the same. Farquar, however, is youthful and frustrated about their situation. Whereas Opperly is unable to imagine scientists such as Einstein and Oppenheimer using violence to achieve their ends, Farquar condemns them for wasting their opportunities to shape the future with their knowledge of atomic power. ",
"Morton Opperly is an elderly physicist. William Farquar is much younger and he too is a scientist. Opperly’s positions reflected his elderly age with his living room having books, pen and ink, and a Picasso painting. Farquar wants to continue to poke at the Thinkers to expose them for their lies. Opperly does not agree with this strategy because he does not know what is best for the planet. While he does not agree with Farquar’s desire to act upon their knowledge of the Thinkers’ lies, he does call them animals. Farquar responds by saying that he feels like an animal because he feels trapped in a cage. Opperly believes it is not worth fighting with the Thinkers, but Farquar wants the fight and he wants violence. ",
"Opperly believes that the world needs magicians right now, not them, the physicists. In the bad times, people would go desperately looking for the magic cure, while in the good times the magicians are laughed at and physicists respected. He understands that the power of the Thinkers lies in what they do not have at the moment, which is peace, honor, good conscience, etc. Farquar on the other hand thinks that they need to perform action. Thus after overruling Opperly, Farquar and other physicists decided to send teasing questions for Maizie to answer. This question indeed got Jorj, the Thinker, unhappy, and he tells the Secretary of Space to investigate it. \n\nFarquar predicts that the Thinkers will need their help in building all those machineries that they faked. Indeed, the invitation gets to them, and it is sent by Jorj stating that they should work together, and mentioning that the Thinkers have quite a lot of government funds. While Opperly thinks that the Thinkers did not simply send the invitation asking for their help, Farquar believes that he will not be persuaded to change his mind at all. "
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own far flung kind to return." Eric nodded. He asked, "What happens now?" "Nothing. Dwell here with us and you will be safe from our people. If the prediction is not soon fulfilled and you are not the Eric of the Legend, you may stay or go as you desire." "My brother, Garve. What about him?" "He loves the city. He will also stay, though he will be outside this building." Kroon clasped his hands. "Nolette, will you show Eric his quarters?"
like you and me?" Patrick Mead took another look at their four faces and began to grin. "Like me, I guess. But I hadn't thought of it before. I did not think that people could have different colored hair or that noses could fit so many ways onto faces. I was judging by my own appearance, but I suppose any fool can walk on his hands and say the world is upside down!" He laughed and sobered. "But then why wear spacesuits? The air is breathable." "For safety," June told him. "We can't take any chances on plague." Pat Mead
shipshape. You make likewise." Forcibly he shoved her into a hammock. "Wrap up tight. Straps tight. When we go, we go fast. Bang!" And he left her. "Hey! Where are you going now?" "To get Gladney. He sick too. Hush hush!" His voice floated back. "Where has he gone?" Judith called. "Back for another man. Remember the two miners who found us when we crashed? The burly one fell off a rock-bank as they were bringing us in. Stove in his ribs pretty badly. The other has a broken arm ... happened once while you were out. They wouldn't let
looked into the far future. She said, "He is Eric the Bronze. I have no doubt." Eric asked, "And what is this Legend of Eric the Bronze? Why am I so despised in the city?" Kroon answered, "According to the Ancient Legend you will destroy the city. This, and other things." Eric gaped. No wonder the crowd had shown such hatred. But why were the elders so friendly? They were obviously the governing body, and if there was strife between them and the people it had not shown in the respect the crowd had accorded Nolette. Kroon said, "I see
gone, and then he saw a note clipped to the control board of the ship. He tore it loose impatiently and began to read. Garve had scrawled: "Funny thing, Eric. A while ago I thought I heard music. I walked down to the canal, and it seemed like there were lights, and a town of some sort far down the canal. I wanted to investigate, but thought I'd better come back. But the thing has been in my mind for hours now, and I'm going down to see what it is. If you want to follow, come straight down the
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Why are so many Earthmen desolate?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Saboteur of Space by Robert Abernathy.
Relevant chunks:
to his boyhood home from Earth—too late for anything. He went outside into the square. A lizard was sunning itself and staring at him with lidless eyes. When he moved across the square, the lizard scurried away. "Earthman!" a quavering voice called. Steve ran toward the sound. In the scant shadow of the community center, a Kumaji was resting. He was a withered old man, all skin and bones and sweat-stiffened tunic, with enormous red-rimmed eyes. His purple skin, which had been blasted by the merciless sun, was almost black. Steve held the canteen to his lips and watched his
for it is the home of spacemen who can never go home again. When your last measure of fuel is burnt and your ship becomes a lifeless hulk—the Ghost will come—for you! And this is all there was to the legend. Merely a tale of some fairy ship told to amuse and to while away the days of a star-voyage. Bitterly, Willard dismissed it from his mind. Another year of loneliness passed. And still another. Willard lost track of the days. It was difficult to keep time for to what purpose could time be kept. Here in space there was
explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
man ?" "To all appearances, sir—" "You bounder, give me that telescope!" 2. If you have explored the weird life of many a planet, as I have, you can appreciate the deep sense of excitement that comes over me when, looking out at a new world for the first time, I see a man-like animal. Walking upright! Wearing adornments in the nature of clothing! I gazed, and my lungs filled with the breath of wonderment. A man! Across millions of miles of space—a man, like the men of the Earth. Six times before in my life of exploration I had
"It's awful," Ida said. "So few young men are left, so many casualties.... "But why do you—we—keep up the fight?" Roddie asked. "I mean, the soldiers will never leave the city; their purpose is to guard it and they can't leave, so they won't attack. Let them alone, and there'll be plenty of young men." "Well!" said Ida, sharply. "You need indoctrination! Didn't they ever tell you that the city is our home, even if the stupid androids do keep us out? Don't you know how dependent we are on these raids for all our tools and things?" She sounded
Question:
Why are so many Earthmen desolate?
Answer:
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[
"The Earthmen are desolate because their ability to support themselves has been taken away by the people in power. Like many others, Ryd was a helio engineer, and he made a good living in the North American city of Dynamopolis. However, about a decade ago, all of the buildings were shuttered, and the Port of Ten Thousand Ships, Pi Mesa, was essentially closed. The people who live in Dynamopolis were actually luckier than other Terrestrials because theirs was the final port to close. \nThe people in charge discovered that Mars has a thinner atmosphere, and they decided to move all of the work to the red planet. However, they did not transport the Terrestrials to a new land and give them an opportunity to continue working. Instead, they created robots who could easily do the humans’ jobs for a lot less money. \nElectricity is hard to come by on Dynamopolis, and the energy that is left goes to Pi Mesa. Although people like the local bartender, Burshis, believe the people in power when they say that energy will soon be restored when the power cylinder is brought to Earth, others, like Mury and Ryd, are much more skeptical. They see the writing on the wall: the Terrestrials will continue to be used and abused, and all of the much-needed resources will go towards Mars, the new frontier. \n",
"Many Earthmen are desolate because the economy is so bad. Many of them lost their jobs up to a decade ago and have not been able to find work since then. Many businesses are shut down since they don’t have the power to operate. Many of the men in the bar must be homeless as Ryd thinks to himself that Burshis’ bar is one of the few open places, and approximately half of the men inside are asleep on the tables or on the floor to get out of the cold so they don’t freeze to death. The loss of power occurred because helio-dynamic engines worked so much better in the Martian atmosphere and because robot labor made Mars fully independent economically. Furthermore, the government issued the Restriction Act to keep Earthmen on Earth and prevent them from moving to Mars or elsewhere to seek employment. The men in charge of Earth’s governments have also made a deal with Mars for the power cell to restore power to Earth, but in exchange, Earth will be a Martian colony, making Earthmen slaves to Martians for all practical purposes.",
"They do not have jobs and the planet appears to be totally reliant on the aid being provided by Mars. Since the planet Earth was sold to Mars, they have become a colony to Mars. Some people on Earth (represented by Mury) are of the opinion that Earth’s government is not acting in a way that benefits their lives, thus leaving them in desolation because the current relationship between the planets allows Mars to pay people from Earth extremely low wages.\n",
"Although it was originally the largest power center, lack of resources, funding, and jobs have led Dynamopolis down a dark path. Many people were laid off as the power plants shut down, including the 809 shutdown of the Power Company of North America. \nThe space station, landing pad, and runway hovers above Dynamopolis. Pi Mesa is the only working spaceport in Dynamopolis. \nThe lack of power and the Restriction Act forced everything to stop. Earthmen weren’t allowed to go to Mars, even though they had full economic independence and the space to support them. So, now Dynamopolis is making a deal with Mars: power for labor. After losing all their jobs (a power center with no power), it was no wonder that the earthmen wound up in the situation that they did. \n"
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to his boyhood home from Earth—too late for anything. He went outside into the square. A lizard was sunning itself and staring at him with lidless eyes. When he moved across the square, the lizard scurried away. "Earthman!" a quavering voice called. Steve ran toward the sound. In the scant shadow of the community center, a Kumaji was resting. He was a withered old man, all skin and bones and sweat-stiffened tunic, with enormous red-rimmed eyes. His purple skin, which had been blasted by the merciless sun, was almost black. Steve held the canteen to his lips and watched his
for it is the home of spacemen who can never go home again. When your last measure of fuel is burnt and your ship becomes a lifeless hulk—the Ghost will come—for you! And this is all there was to the legend. Merely a tale of some fairy ship told to amuse and to while away the days of a star-voyage. Bitterly, Willard dismissed it from his mind. Another year of loneliness passed. And still another. Willard lost track of the days. It was difficult to keep time for to what purpose could time be kept. Here in space there was
explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
man ?" "To all appearances, sir—" "You bounder, give me that telescope!" 2. If you have explored the weird life of many a planet, as I have, you can appreciate the deep sense of excitement that comes over me when, looking out at a new world for the first time, I see a man-like animal. Walking upright! Wearing adornments in the nature of clothing! I gazed, and my lungs filled with the breath of wonderment. A man! Across millions of miles of space—a man, like the men of the Earth. Six times before in my life of exploration I had
"It's awful," Ida said. "So few young men are left, so many casualties.... "But why do you—we—keep up the fight?" Roddie asked. "I mean, the soldiers will never leave the city; their purpose is to guard it and they can't leave, so they won't attack. Let them alone, and there'll be plenty of young men." "Well!" said Ida, sharply. "You need indoctrination! Didn't they ever tell you that the city is our home, even if the stupid androids do keep us out? Don't you know how dependent we are on these raids for all our tools and things?" She sounded
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What is the plot of the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Highest Mountain by Bryce Walton.
Relevant chunks:
explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
forty years ago or more. Resembled one? It was one! Unquestionably, though half-invisible and like a piece of glass immersed in water, it was a rocket ship. But the instruments on the control board could not lie. The presence of any material body within a hundred thousand miles would be revealed. But the needle on the gauge did not quiver. Nothing indicated the presence of a ship. But the evidence of his eyes was incontestable. Or was it? Doubt gripped him. Did the loneliness of all these years in space twist his mind till he was imagining the appearance of
"Get somebody—maybe even the President—on all radio and TV networks. Explain frankly about the four-centers and warn against licking any stamps. Then—" He broke off as his phone rang. Answering, he listened for a moment, then hung up and said, "But before the big announcement, get somebody checking on the security clearances at whatever plant it is where they print stamps. This's a big deal. Somebody may've been planted years ago for this operation. It shouldn't be too hard. "But there's no evidence it was a plot yet. Could be pure accident—some chemical in the stickum spoiled. Do they keep
deathly ill, but nobody dying. And doctors can't identify the poison until they have a fatality for an autopsy. People stricken in every part of the country, but the water systems are pure. How does it spread?" "In food?" "How? There must be hundreds of canneries and dairies and packing plants over the country. How could they all goof at the same time—even if it was sabotage?" "On the wind?" "But who could accurately predict every wind over the entire country—even Alaska and Hawaii—without hitting Canada or Mexico? And why wouldn't everybody get it in a given area?" Bettijean's smooth
Question:
What is the plot of the story?
Answer:
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[
"The story is set on Mars. A group of conquerors from Earth arrived here after the last four crews never returned after deciding to climb a very high Martian mountain. The fifth team with Bruce, Marsha - his past love interest, Anhauser, Jacobs, Doran, Max Drexel, Stromberg - the psychologist, and its captain Terrence arrived here on their ship Mars V eight months ago. A day before the ascent Bruce is reading Byron and thinking about his bizarre dreams. Then we see an inquest. With all the crew members listening, Terrence interrogates Bruce and asks why he shot Doran. Bruce reminds the crew about the genocide of the Venusian aborigines: five years ago, he and Doran were part of the crew of the first ship that landed on Venus; these explorers wiped out the entire Venusian community. Terrence claims that Bruce is mentally ill and doesn’t have the real conquering blood. The captain understands the young man doesn’t believe in the philosophy of conquering and remains faithful to the old ideas of democracy and freedom. Bruce then explains that Marsha and Doran woke him up after a bizarre dream, and he immediately saw something or someone in the window. When Doran saw the creature, he left the room, and Bruce heard his rifle go off. Infuriated, Bruce killed the man. \n\nStromberg deems Bruce a delusional schizophrenic and says that Doran probably imagined the creature, too. Instead of punishing the man by executing him, Terrence orders Bruce to write down everything they report via radio while they are climbing. He stays by the radio, eats what they left for him, and sometimes sleeps. Eventually, Terrence reports that the mountain is way higher than they anticipated - 45 00 feet. Later, he screams that he just killed Anhauser for dissent. The captain speaks of their great conquest, and Bruce sometimes replies to prove he's still writing down everything. His dreams become more realistic and he seems to see some crew members of the previous expeditions: Pietro, Marlene, and Helene. Terrence reports that they are at an altitude of five hundred thousand feet and later adds that Marsha is dying. She says she loves Bruce, and he recites a poem for her. Terrence later crazily speaks about toppling the Solar system but soon stops reporting. Bruce turns off the radio. The exterior of the ship changes - now he sees a small town and the grandiose mountain vanished. Not sure if it’s a dream or not, he approaches Helene, who eventually explains that the Martians wanted to stop the human conquerors. They decided to create an illusion of an infinitely high mountain, and the colonists felt an uncontrollable urge to climb it. They both walk to a red mound, where Bruce notices the bodies of the crew members of all five ships. Only people like him remained alive. Bruce looks at them and, together with Helene, leaves the mound, entering the city.",
"Bruce is reading some poetry he had sneaked upon the ship; he then dozes off but wakes himself to postpone one of his strangely realistic dreams. Jacob and Anhauser stand outside, surprised he did not run off somewhere. They have been on Mars for eight months, discovering other rockets that did not make it back. Everybody meets with Captain Terrence and Marsha Rennels, where they discuss Bruce killing Lieutenant Doran. Bruce tries to argue his way, but Terrence believes that he should never have been sent because of his bad mental state. Max Drexel considers him a crackpot idealist, but Bruce says that the first thing that the original travelers did to the Venusian village was destroy it completely. Bruce stops himself from arguing more because the New Era had only ushered final totalitarianism. Terrence asks him again why he shot Doran, and Bruce begins talking about the realistic dreams he has of the other crew members who never made it back to Earth. He continues to speak about the mountain, mentioning how everybody who has gone up has never come back down. Since their goal is not to conquer anything, Bruce feels no need to do it even if the destiny of Earth is absolute. When he is woken, he feels something looking at him; Doran also sees this too and grabs his rifle to go outside. Bruce is so overcome with rage about them killing aliens that he shoots him too. Stromberg, the psychologist, says that Bruce has schizophrenia, while Marsha also agrees that she did not see anything. Although the verdict should be execution for Bruce, they let him stay and take down radio reports when they go up the mountain. When the crew goes to climb, they begin documenting the experience for Bruce to list down. Bruce begins having more strange dreams, seeing a different martian landscape and meeting others. Terrence tells him that Marsha is dying, and he hears her call his name while telling him how much she loves him. Terrence continues his crazy yelling, and Bruce switches off the radio to see Helene smoking a cigarette. She explains how the Martians are masters of the mind and that the only people who survive are the ones who do not climb the mountain. The mountain is not real at all, as it is a product of the Martian’s psychic powers. They go to check on the corpses after, and Helene asks if he loved Marsha. He responds that he had once, but it is too late now. As they walk towards the calm city, he asks if the crew is still climbing somewhere. Helene responds that not even the Martians know about that. ",
"This story follows Bruce and his fellow cremates of the ship Mars V, as they explore Mars for potential life. Bruce is sat in front of his crew members, with Captain Terrence taking the lead, for an inquest. He has shot a fellow crew member, Lieutenant Doran, supposedly without provocation. He is set on trial for a mere formality - his fate of execution already decided - to determine his motivations behind the killing. Bruce proclaims that there are injustices aboard the crew. In particular, he disagrees with the crew and Earth's dogged desire to conquest, which Doran embodied wholeheartedly. \nBruce describes he saw a figure or a shadow out the window of their shelter that could've blurred between dream and reality. Doran had turned and saw it too, only to rush out and shoot at it, after which Bruce then killed him. It was then decided that because the rest of the crew were going to climb the mountain, instead of execution being Bruce's fate, he would remain back to record their notes over the radio. \n\nAs the crew went on their climb, Bruce sat back and drifted between sedative sleeping and dreams. The crew began to climb beyond the mountain's estimated peak of 45,000 feet. At 60,000 feet, Terrence reported that he killed Anhauser as he was dissenting, wanting to go back down the mountain. At 500,000 feet, Terrence comes back on the radio to report that Marsha is dying. Bruce and Marsha profess their love for each other as they reflect upon the past, before being interrupted by Terrence's proclamations of conquering the mountain and the universe. \n\nThroughout the story, Bruce has been having dreams of two girls and a man, set in a Mars landscape completely different to the one in reality. As Terrence's voice breaks off into undistinguishable yells, he looked out the shelter's window to find that the previously red and barren landscape had changed into the lush landscape of his dreams. He sees Helene - one of the girls - and she tells him what's been going on. It turns out that the Martians had purposefully imaged Mars to appear red and barren and set up the mountain as a test for the humans. They had found that humans had an undeterred desire for conquest that incorporated no values of morality or humane-ness. As a result, only those who didn't follow this blind conquest like Bruce, Helene, and the other girl and boy are rewarded by the true landscape of Mars which is plentiful, lush, and inhabitable. While listening to Helene, they reach the mountain. There lies the bodies of the previous crew members who climbed the mountain, including that of Marsha's. Respectfully carrying her body to place beside the canal, Helene asked if he loved her to which Bruce replied that he did once, and that she was young enough where her mind was influenced by the other's will to conquest.",
"The fifth rocket, Mars V, hits Mars, and its crewmembers see the four rockets lying under the shadow of the highest mountain they have ever seen. Bruce is reading poems while waiting for the trial. Jacob and Anhauser, Bruce’s crewmates, are surprised that Bruce did not run away from the execution, which is the night before all the crew members, except for Bruce, start to climb the mountain. In the trial, Bruce tries to explain the injustice done on Venus five years ago, when he and Doran went on the same mission, witnessing the brutality of Earthmen’s conquest of wiping out the Venusian village without communication. But he soon realizes that it is futile as Terrence, the captain, and other crewmembers insist on the importance of the conquered strength and the twisted democracy. Asked for the reason for killing Doram, Bruce explains his dream, which seems to indicate there are lives on Mars, to them. In the dream, Bruce describes how Doran runs out to shoot the shadowy things in the mist as the Earthmen always do based on the philosophy of conquest. Bruce killed Doran, wanting to kill all of his crew members, and they think he is a psycho. They finally decide to leave Bruce with food concentrates and the work of recording while they climb the mountain. They start to climb the mountain while Bruce reads poems, sleeps, and dreams of a magnificent place. Along with the climbing, Terrence keeps reporting his feeling of conquest and power. He also kills Anhauser because he refuses to keep climbing. Meanwhile, as Bruce stops using sedatives and continues dreaming, the boundary between dream and reality becomes blurred. Three people seem to come from the previous rockets in Bruce's dream. Scenes in a dream are warm and wonderful. Marsha dies along with the climbing after confessing to Bruce. Terrence dies. When Bruce switches off the radio, the scenery outside the window changes; it fuses with his dream. A woman comes to him, explaining that the dream is reality while the reality with the mountain is fake. Martians created the phenomenon of barren land and the mountain as they wanted to stop Earth’s conquest of the universe. With the mountain, Earthmen with the will to conquer will climb the mountain and die, and Earthmen who do not climb the mountain will live on Mars. The people in the dream he saw are all the crewmember of previous rockets who refuse to climb the mountain. Therefore, Earthmen will stop their conquest of Mars. After knowing the truth and seeing the corpses of other crew members, Bruce moves Marsha’s corpse along the canals and leaves with the woman."
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explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
forty years ago or more. Resembled one? It was one! Unquestionably, though half-invisible and like a piece of glass immersed in water, it was a rocket ship. But the instruments on the control board could not lie. The presence of any material body within a hundred thousand miles would be revealed. But the needle on the gauge did not quiver. Nothing indicated the presence of a ship. But the evidence of his eyes was incontestable. Or was it? Doubt gripped him. Did the loneliness of all these years in space twist his mind till he was imagining the appearance of
"Get somebody—maybe even the President—on all radio and TV networks. Explain frankly about the four-centers and warn against licking any stamps. Then—" He broke off as his phone rang. Answering, he listened for a moment, then hung up and said, "But before the big announcement, get somebody checking on the security clearances at whatever plant it is where they print stamps. This's a big deal. Somebody may've been planted years ago for this operation. It shouldn't be too hard. "But there's no evidence it was a plot yet. Could be pure accident—some chemical in the stickum spoiled. Do they keep
deathly ill, but nobody dying. And doctors can't identify the poison until they have a fatality for an autopsy. People stricken in every part of the country, but the water systems are pure. How does it spread?" "In food?" "How? There must be hundreds of canneries and dairies and packing plants over the country. How could they all goof at the same time—even if it was sabotage?" "On the wind?" "But who could accurately predict every wind over the entire country—even Alaska and Hawaii—without hitting Canada or Mexico? And why wouldn't everybody get it in a given area?" Bettijean's smooth
|
What is the plot of the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Raiders of the Second Moon by Basil Wells.
Relevant chunks:
explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
forty years ago or more. Resembled one? It was one! Unquestionably, though half-invisible and like a piece of glass immersed in water, it was a rocket ship. But the instruments on the control board could not lie. The presence of any material body within a hundred thousand miles would be revealed. But the needle on the gauge did not quiver. Nothing indicated the presence of a ship. But the evidence of his eyes was incontestable. Or was it? Doubt gripped him. Did the loneliness of all these years in space twist his mind till he was imagining the appearance of
"Get somebody—maybe even the President—on all radio and TV networks. Explain frankly about the four-centers and warn against licking any stamps. Then—" He broke off as his phone rang. Answering, he listened for a moment, then hung up and said, "But before the big announcement, get somebody checking on the security clearances at whatever plant it is where they print stamps. This's a big deal. Somebody may've been planted years ago for this operation. It shouldn't be too hard. "But there's no evidence it was a plot yet. Could be pure accident—some chemical in the stickum spoiled. Do they keep
deathly ill, but nobody dying. And doctors can't identify the poison until they have a fatality for an autopsy. People stricken in every part of the country, but the water systems are pure. How does it spread?" "In food?" "How? There must be hundreds of canneries and dairies and packing plants over the country. How could they all goof at the same time—even if it was sabotage?" "On the wind?" "But who could accurately predict every wind over the entire country—even Alaska and Hawaii—without hitting Canada or Mexico? And why wouldn't everybody get it in a given area?" Bettijean's smooth
Question:
What is the plot of the story?
Answer:
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[
"Noork is in a tree on a moon named Sekk, watching a woman walk through the jungle. When they speak, they learn that Noork has been living with her brother, Gurn. With this introduction, they begin to travel together.\n\nThe woman explains that she had been captured by slavers in the past but had escaped. The escapees were then followed by the Misty Ones, and the woman was the only one who made a complete escape. Noork states that he will visit the island where the Misty Ones live one day, but the woman does not answer. When Noork turns back to her, she has disappeared, and Noork is attacked. He hides in the trees and spies the Misty Ones below. He throws fruit down on them until he can easily see them by the stains the fruit makes on their clothing, then attacks with arrows. The Misty Ones flee except for one who has been killed with an arrow. Noork takes the robe of this one and sets off toward the Temple of the Skull, the home of the Misty Ones, to free the woman.\n\nNoork encounters Ud, his friend, near the lake, and tells him to tell Gurn that the MIsty Ones can be trapped and skinned. He asks Ud to tell Gurn that Noork is going to save Gurn's \"father's woman woman\" called Sarna.\n\nNoork paddles across the lake and sneaks close to the Temple of the Skull. He falls asleep in a tree and is awakened by the conversation of two slaves talking about Sarna. After one slave leaves, he speaks with the other slave, Rold, and tells him that he is there to rescue Sarna. Rold, realizing that the Misty Ones are only mortal men, tells Noork that Sarna is held in a pit beneath the temple with the other young women slaves.\n\nNoork finds the entrance to the pit but is blocked by two guards, whom he kills.He then proceeds to the cage where the young women are held, where he is confronted by a priest. He fights the priest, kills him, and frees Sarna. They go back to the field, get Rold, and the three of them flee into the jungle. They plan to go for a boat and leave, but are caught by Misty Ones waiting to trap them. At this time, Dr. Von Mark, a Nazi from Earth, confronts Noork, who is also Stephen Dietrich, an American pilot who has been hunting him and had tracked him through space to Sekk. Due to Dietrich/Noork's amnesia, he remembers none of this. Just as Von Mark is about to kill him, Gurn and other men from Wari kill the Misty Ones with arrows and Noork and the others are freed. Noork states that he can now live in peace with Gurn and Sarna in the jungle.",
"Noork, a man from Earth who doesn’t remember who he is, lives in the jungle on a second moon. He knows he was brought there by what he remembers as a huge bird and that he was taken in by a man named Gurn and the Vasad people of the jungle. He meets a woman named Sarna with whom he shares a mutual attraction, and it turns out that she is Gurn’s sister. Shortly after they discover this, they are attacked. Sarna vanishes and Noork hides, eventually discovering that the “Misty Ones” who attacked them, thought to be demons, look similar to him and can be “skinned”; this is important because their skins or coverings allow the wearer to be nearly invisible like them. \n\nNoork passes a message along via another Vasad to tell Gurn what he has learned about the Misty Ones, and to say that Noork has gone to rescue Sarna. He sneaks into the walled temple where the slaves are being kept, and enlists the help of another slave, Rold, to help them get out if he can get Sarna. Noork goes down to the cavern and, after fighting a priest to the death, rescues Sarna. They escape with Rold, only to be captured by more Misty Ones, one of whom turns out to be a Nazi from Noork’s previous life. \n\nThough Noork can’t remember him (but knows he dislikes him), Doctor Von Mark remembers him. Noork’s name was Stephen Dietrich, and he was an American flier who had chased down one of the last nazi criminals: Doctor Von Mark. Von Mark had then flown one of his shuttles to Sekk and landed successfully, while Stephen had pursued him in another of his shuttles and crashed on Sekk, resulting in his amnesia. “Noork” was the name given to him by the Vasad based on the only sounds he could make: “New York”. \n\nDoctor Von Mark asks if Noork knows the secret to the invisibility of the Misty One’s skins, since this would allow him to return to Earth and take it over for the Fatherland. When he realizes that Noork knows nothing, he moves to kill him but is shot by an arrow just in time. Gurn has rallied warriors based on Noork’s message. Noork now knows his real name and that he got where he is by hunting down an evil man. He is now happy to live safely in the jungle with Gurn and Sarna, and she says she is happy, too. \n",
"Noork is a man from Earth whose real name is Stephen Dietrich; he was pursuing the Nazi Dr. Karl Von Mark, the last of the Axis criminals at large. Dietrich followed Von Mark to Africa where Von Mark took off in a spaceship, and Dietrich followed. Both landed on Sekk, a second moon past Luna, but Dietrich’s landing was so rough that he lost his memory. When the locals found him, he said, “New York,” which they didn’t understand and named him Noork. Noork lives among the Vasads and learns their language. \n\nNoork and Tholon Sarna meet in the jungle and become friends. One day as they are talking, Noork hears feet scuffing, and Tholon disappears. Noork climbs a tree to find out where the Misty Ones are (They are invisible.). He detects movement and throws overripe fruit, which stains the cloaks of the Misty Ones. Noork shoots arrows toward the creatures and kills one. He takes that one’s robe, which is what makes the Misty Ones invisible. \n\nNoork tells one of his colleagues to take the message to Gurn, their leader and Tholon’s brother, that the Misty Ones are flesh and blood, not demons as they believe. He tells Ud that he is going to the island of the Misty Ones to save Tholon. He reaches the wall surrounding the Misty Ones’ village and overhears two slaves talking before they separate. Noork approaches the slave in the field, Rold, and asks for his help in exchange for helping Rold escape. Rold explains that the large skull is the god Uzdon, and the priests make sacrifices by taking the heart out of a living slave girl. He also tells Noork that the slave girls are held in a pit beneath the skull guarded by Misty Ones.\n\nNoork moves among the Misty Ones in anonymity since he is wearing one of their robes. He enters the skull and kills the guards who are in charge of the slave girls. Just as he is about to release Tholon, a priest catches him, and they fight until Noork kills him, too. Noork takes more robes and the priest’s face shield and leaves with Tholon and Rold. The face shield enables him to see the Misty Ones who are invisible to everyone else, so he can see when they are waiting to trap them. They capture the escape party, and one of the Misty Ones reveals that he is Dr. Von Mark after recognizing Dietrich. Von Mark reveals his plans to use the cloaks of invisibility to conquer Earth and make Germany invincible. Von Mark prepares to shoot Dietrich but is shot by an arrow first. Misty Ones close in on the group and lower their hoods, revealing Tholon’s brother Gurn and his men. Noork now remembers who he is and says he will live in peace with Gurn and his sister.\n",
"Noork searches for the bird that dropped him on a cliff (as well as another bird) when he is discovered by the Vasads. He repeated the word \"New York\", and so the Vasads call him Noork. From his perch, he now watches a girl—Tholon Sarna--moving along a trail below. She is the sister of Gurn, the Vasad leader. Gurn has been exiled from their home city of Grath because he doesn't believe in the enslavement of the Zuran, and Tholon Sarna has recently evaded capture by her enemies, the men of Konto. The Misty Ones--slavers dwellling at the Temple of the Skull and feared deeply by the Vasads--follow her. As Tholon Sarna and Noork walk, she is captured by a Misty One made invisible by a special robe. A Misty One clubs Noork, injuring his arm. Thanks to their blurry outlines, Noork realizes the Misty Ones are not entirely invisible, and he uses his legs to pelt them with fruit. Upon seeing their true form--closer to his own human shape--Noork loses his fear of them and begins attacking them with arrows. He takes the invisibility robe of a fallen Misty One and uses it to disguise himself as he makes his way to the Temple of the Skull. Along the way, he reunites with his friend Ud, a jungle-dwelling beast-man. He sends Ud to inform Gurn of the Misty Ones' newfound weakness. We then learn that Noork's real name is Stephen Dietrich, and he had been hunting Dr. Karl Von Mark, a criminal scientist attempting to revivify the Nazi power structure. Von Mark manages to evade Dietrich by landing on Sekk, and Dietrich crashes and succumbs to amnesia. The bird that had carried him to the cliff was his own plane, and the bird he had been seeking was Von Mark's. Now, Noork descends upon a slave named Rold near the Temple of the Skull. He enlists Rold to help him free Tholon Sarna. Rold informs Noork of the High Priest's plan to choose a sacrifice to their god, Uzdon, from the female slaves caged in a pit beneath the Skull. Noork promises a robe to Rold if his plan to rescue Tholon Sarna succeeds. In disguise, Noork approaches the Skull, heavily guarded by Misty Ones, and makes his way toward the pit. Along the way, he defeats guards and pockets two robes. Before freeing Tholon Sarna, Noork battles the High Priest, kills him, and they make their escape. Soon after, they are again trapped by a group of Misty Ones--this time led by none other than Dr. Karl Von Mark himself. Von Mark tells Noork of his desire to use the secret of invisibility to make Germany all-powerful, and he pulls out a gun to kill him. Suddenly, Gurn emerges with the Vasads, and they kill Von Mark with arrows. Noork recalls his true identify as Captain Dietrich and looks forward to a life of peace amongst the Vasads with Tholon Sarna."
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explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
forty years ago or more. Resembled one? It was one! Unquestionably, though half-invisible and like a piece of glass immersed in water, it was a rocket ship. But the instruments on the control board could not lie. The presence of any material body within a hundred thousand miles would be revealed. But the needle on the gauge did not quiver. Nothing indicated the presence of a ship. But the evidence of his eyes was incontestable. Or was it? Doubt gripped him. Did the loneliness of all these years in space twist his mind till he was imagining the appearance of
"Get somebody—maybe even the President—on all radio and TV networks. Explain frankly about the four-centers and warn against licking any stamps. Then—" He broke off as his phone rang. Answering, he listened for a moment, then hung up and said, "But before the big announcement, get somebody checking on the security clearances at whatever plant it is where they print stamps. This's a big deal. Somebody may've been planted years ago for this operation. It shouldn't be too hard. "But there's no evidence it was a plot yet. Could be pure accident—some chemical in the stickum spoiled. Do they keep
deathly ill, but nobody dying. And doctors can't identify the poison until they have a fatality for an autopsy. People stricken in every part of the country, but the water systems are pure. How does it spread?" "In food?" "How? There must be hundreds of canneries and dairies and packing plants over the country. How could they all goof at the same time—even if it was sabotage?" "On the wind?" "But who could accurately predict every wind over the entire country—even Alaska and Hawaii—without hitting Canada or Mexico? And why wouldn't everybody get it in a given area?" Bettijean's smooth
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What is the plot of the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Desire No More by Algis Budrys.
Relevant chunks:
and didn't look at her. "You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock." "I can take it." Suddenly she smiled, wanly. "I was with the Fleet. How long will it take?" "Eight days, in that ship." Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Peterson was harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small ship meant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days in that untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl and Gladney. "Who was that ... man? The one you put out?" Gray
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
asked. "We call him Rat," Roberds said. She didn't ask why. She said: "Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean? What is his record?" Peterson opened his mouth. "Shut up, Peterson!" the Chief snapped. "We don't talk about his record around here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell." "Stow it, Chief," said Peterson. "Miss Gray is no pantywaist." He turned to the nurse. "Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?" Patti Gray paled. "Yes," she whispered. "Was Rat in that?" Roberds shook his head. "He didn't take part in it. But Rat was attached to a very
many days?" His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of those inhuman eyes. She fell face first to the floor. "I can't keep it up!" she cried. The sound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. "I cant! I cant!" A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. "Get up!" Rat stood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. "Get up!" She stared at him, dazed. He kicked her. "Get up!" The tepid water ran off her face and far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Rat was
moving things had unnerved him. He had already sounded the alert, flicked out the defense screens. Now he had nothing to do. He tried to concentrate on what the League Law would have him do. The Law was no help. Contact with planet-bound races was forbidden under any circumstances. But could a bunch of robots be called a race? The Law said nothing about robots because Earthmen had none. The building of imaginative robots was expressly forbidden. But at any rate, Steffens thought, he had made contact already. While Steffens stood by the screen, completely bewildered for the first time
Question:
What is the plot of the story?
Answer:
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[
"The story follows the journey of Martin Isherwood, a man whose dream is to become a rocket pilot. Everything he does is to reach that dream. When he turns 17, he cuts away from his family and starts to follow his dream. He participates in different plane races in order to become a pilot. He continuously shows his determination to become a pilot to everyone he meets, and doesn’t care what they say. Mostly everyone tells Ish that he should quit on this path, that he has nothing to prove and that there is no reason to continue pursuing his dream. He doesn’t heed this advice and continues convincing people as to why he should be a rocket pilot. At the end, he manages to do the trip, but does it while thinking that he had already done it before, therefore taking out all the excitement that the first trip would have had. He ends up never driving a rocket again, and dies in the rocket station. ",
"Martin Isherwood, as a small young man, tells his father that he is a rocket pilot when his father tells him that he cannot afford to send him to college. His father begins to laugh, and Martin decides to run away. His mother comes in and asks what is wrong, and his father tells her about what their son has claimed as his trade. Margaret is confused, and Howard tries to chase him as Ish hops on a bus and goes away. When the man tells his faculty advisor that he is not interested in a degree, the advisor is exasperated because he has been doing math and engineering for the past nine semesters. Ish says that he is signed up for Astronomy 101, and he tries to argue why this course is different. Ish offers for them to get a beer together instead, since it will be impossible to convince him. He does not understand the advisor’s poetry, and the advisor comments that he is a specialist. The scene then cuts to The Navion taking a boiling thermal under its right wing, buckling suddenly and tilting. Ish tells Nan to relax, but she is afraid of how low he is flying. As Ish does a few more tricks, he suddenly feels fear because the aircraft begins to act strangely. Nan is curious why he is so desperate to win the Vandenberg Cup next week. He reveals that this is all part of his plan of being a rocket pilot, and Nan does not understand. The scene then cuts to four years later, as Ish brings the Mark VII out of her orbit and gives the technicians a report. Nan tells him that he has accomplished his dream, but Ish suddenly feels tired and outraged that the pile of tin can be considered a rocket. The Flight Surgeon then talks to him in another scene, asking if he would like to talk to a man named MacKenzie. Ish agrees, and MacKenzie asks him questions about his personal life. The therapist offers shock therapy, but Martin insists that it did not work. The receptionist at the front desk tries to get him to fill out paperwork too, but he vehemently refuses and complains that he has no time. The scene then cuts to the Personnel Manager meeting him, and they discuss the plans moving forward. The Personnel Manager discusses the rocket some more with him, before the scene cuts to a crew chief waking him up to go to the station. After his trip, MacKenzie is waiting for him at the crew station. MacKenzie tells him that he was hypnotized because his lack of interests and emotions prevented him from being the best. Ish refuses to believe it, and MacKenzie says that he had to cancel the thrill of it by making him experience the Moon and death. Ish dies in space after MacKenzie leaves, having lost his passion while staring at the stars. ",
"At the beginning, as a small boy, Marty Isherwood tells his father that he will be a rocket pilot. The man starts laughing at this, and Marty, infuriated, walks out of their house. His mother, Marge, tries to understand what happened while her son gets on some bus. Later, Martin is older and talking to his faculty advisor about the classes he plans on taking. We learn that the young man has taken almost every math and engineering class and has signed up for astronomy. His advisor doesn’t understand why Martin is avoiding liberal arts classes. They go to a bar where the adviser again wonders what specialty made Martin abandon all the other existing disciplines. Martin assures him there’s a purpose behind it. \nNow Martin is a certified pilot. He’s on the board of the Navion plane with a girl named Nan. He makes the plane dive and tilt, which scares her. At some point, he becomes delusional and brings the plane higher and higher before he finally hears the girl’s screams. Martin tells her he cannot marry her because he is not rich, and it will take years before he becomes a real rocket pilot. Nan doesn’t understand his passion. Years later, Martin manages to spin around the Earth on the ship Mark VII for two days. He’s not satisfied. While walking from the ship, he meets Nan, who tells him that she understands his passion now and is happy he’s done. He becomes angry and says that he’s not finished anything. He talks to a psychiatrist named Mackenzie assigned to him by the Air Force. The man asks questions about his first jobs at the airports near Miami. He makes sure Martin has no family. Then he suddenly shocks him by saying that Martin can’t go - this maddens the pilot. Seconds later, the doctor apologizes, claiming that it was shotgun therapy to check his reactions. Next, Martin argues with some receptionist, trying to convince her to help him get back - apparently, he died. He says he has a job. He forces her to call the Personnel Manager. Martin tells the man that he only has six hours before the flight to the Moon and asks for a postponement so that he could finish the journey. The manager then shows Martin the Earth, and the man realizes he’s standing in one of the lunar craters. Martin finally wakes up just an hour before the launch. He completes the flight but is dissatisfied. Mackenzie meets him in the crew section and explains that he had to hypnotize Martin before the flight, make him believe he had died and had been to the Moon. The Air Force was not sure Martin, who had no ties to the planet and no interests, would’ve come back. The hallucination made the pilot believe he had already been to the Moon, thus taking the adventure out of the actual flight.\n",
"Martin Isherwood, a young man, desiring to be a rocket pilot, cuts his tie to his family around the age of seventeen because his father does not support or believe in his dream. His school advisor also does not understand his choice of taking a similar class because it will teach him how to look at the star differently. The advisor tries to convince him to change his career, but he fails. They go to a bar and chat about Ish's crazy dream.\n\nThe scene then changes to a racing plane where Ish, as a trained pilot, teases the girl Nan sitting beside him. He constantly flies a dangerous route to tease her. After a dangerous flight, he talks about the difficulty of marrying her due to his career, and she questions his career. He gives up on making her understand his ambition and breaks up with her. A week later, he wins the championship of the Vandenberg Cup, which will give him a lot of job opportunities in the pilot market. After several successes in the field, he meets his ex-girlfriend, Nan. She tries to apologize for her inability to understand him, but he does not want to listen. He does not think that she still understands him. He is raged.\n\nThe flight surgeon tells him to sit and calm down. He asks Ish to meet a therapist called MacKenzie. MacKenzie asks Ish some questions casually, and Ish responds appropriately because of the recorder he sees under Mackenzie's lapel. After the conversation, he refuses to fill out the application and yells for the personnel manager to come. The personnel manager tells him that what he thinks is not real. He does not believe it. Then he wakes up from the hallucination of going to the moon. MacKenzie tells him that he never goes to the moon. He dies shortly after that."
] |
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and didn't look at her. "You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock." "I can take it." Suddenly she smiled, wanly. "I was with the Fleet. How long will it take?" "Eight days, in that ship." Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Peterson was harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small ship meant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days in that untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl and Gladney. "Who was that ... man? The one you put out?" Gray
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
asked. "We call him Rat," Roberds said. She didn't ask why. She said: "Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean? What is his record?" Peterson opened his mouth. "Shut up, Peterson!" the Chief snapped. "We don't talk about his record around here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell." "Stow it, Chief," said Peterson. "Miss Gray is no pantywaist." He turned to the nurse. "Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?" Patti Gray paled. "Yes," she whispered. "Was Rat in that?" Roberds shook his head. "He didn't take part in it. But Rat was attached to a very
many days?" His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of those inhuman eyes. She fell face first to the floor. "I can't keep it up!" she cried. The sound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. "I cant! I cant!" A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. "Get up!" Rat stood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. "Get up!" She stared at him, dazed. He kicked her. "Get up!" The tepid water ran off her face and far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Rat was
moving things had unnerved him. He had already sounded the alert, flicked out the defense screens. Now he had nothing to do. He tried to concentrate on what the League Law would have him do. The Law was no help. Contact with planet-bound races was forbidden under any circumstances. But could a bunch of robots be called a race? The Law said nothing about robots because Earthmen had none. The building of imaginative robots was expressly forbidden. But at any rate, Steffens thought, he had made contact already. While Steffens stood by the screen, completely bewildered for the first time
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What is the significance of time in the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Butterfly 9 by Donald Keith.
Relevant chunks:
touched the water to his lips. It was cool and satisfying. He drank it, convinced completely. Eric asked, "And I am to destroy the City?" "Yes. The time has come." "But why?" Eric demanded. For an instant he could see the twinkling beauty as clearly as if he had stood outside the walls of this building. Kroon said, "There are difficulties. The machine builds according to the mass will of the people, though it is sensitive to the individual in areas where it does not conflict with the imagination of the mass. We have had strangers, visitors, and even our
space ship. We've enough concentrated supplies to last for a year. How far do we go? Why? When?" They stepped upon the Earth and felt the warmth of the sun and strolled toward the top of the hill. "The air smells clean," he said. "The ground feels good. I think I'll take off my shoes." She did. "Take off your boots, Michael. Try it." Wearily he pulled off his boots, stood in his bare feet. "It takes me back." "Yes," she said and began walking toward the hilltop. He followed, his boots slung around his neck. "There was a road
Varius II, a civilization as old as Earth's. Did whoever built these get to Varius? Or did they get to Earth? How can you know?" He kicked at the sand distractedly. "And most important, where are they now? A race with several thousand years...." "Fifteen thousand," Ball said. When Steffens looked up, he added: "That's what the geology boys say. Fifteen thousand, at the least." Steffens turned to stare unhappily at the buildings. When he realized now how really old they were, a sudden thought struck him. "But why buildings? Why did they have to build in stone, to last?
The Centaurian was grinning at her. "Do you always leave in a hurry?" she demanded, and instantly wished she hadn't said it. He gave no outward sign. "Long-time sleep," he announced. "Four, five hours maybe." The chest strap was lying loose at his side. "That long!" she was incredulous. "I'm never out more than three hours!" Unloosening more straps, she sat up, glanced at the control panel. "Not taking time," he stated simply and pointed to a dial. Gray shook her head and looked at the others. "That isn't doing either of them any good!" Rat nodded unhappily. "What's her
and didn't look at her. "You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock." "I can take it." Suddenly she smiled, wanly. "I was with the Fleet. How long will it take?" "Eight days, in that ship." Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Peterson was harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small ship meant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days in that untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl and Gladney. "Who was that ... man? The one you put out?" Gray
Question:
What is the significance of time in the story?
Answer:
|
[
"Time travel is suggested as a way to solve troubles. To fix regrets. Ironically, it is not this at all, because the way time travel works is not linear. Thus, it’s not possible to go back to an exact moment in your past and make a different decision.\n\nJeff is very impatient about the time they are spending with Mr. Snader, but continues to be roped into one thing and the next by convincing himself that they are in no real danger. There is a kind of tension between Jeff feeling like he is wasting time, but then allowing time to run on as their involvement with Mr. Snader deepens further and further until they lose 6 years of time completely.\n",
"At the beginning of the story, Jeff is worried that he has lost so much time on his failed business. Ann tries to convince him that he’s still plenty young, and he has many years to make back whatever he lost. Snader hears their conversation and butts in. Ann and Jeff don’t realize that he has already had his sights on them specifically because Jeff has been ordered by Mr. Bullen to improve his business. Bullen wants to make colored television before anyone else can, and in order to do that he needs someone from the future to give him the secrets. \n\nSnader makes Jeff and Ann believe they are going on an adventure to visit the past that they knew only six years ago, but he lies to them. They do not understand that the past does not work like a movie. When you travel to the past, the events change. This is because time is a dimension, and it is not linear. One of Bullen’s henchmen explains to Jeff that if he went back to 1865, there would no longer be a Civil War, and no one would know who Abraham Lincoln is. Landmarks, like the mountains outside of the station, will not change, but events will. ",
"Time is significant in the story because it is the basis for Jeff’s unhappiness and the couple’s reception of Snader’s travel offer. The reality of time as a dimension is why Jeff doesn’t recognize the past when he and Ann travel back. Jeff wishes he could go back in time five years and buy the building where he has been working for $2,000. It has just sold for $12,000, and now he has to leave and start his business over again. Snader’s offer of time travel appeals to Jeff and Ann because Jeff believes he’ll be able to buy the building. Snader’s assurance that they can be back in an hour helps persuade the couple to go with him to the nearby station. When they go into the screen to travel through time and Snader drives them along a freeway that didn’t exist in the present 1957 or five years earlier, Jeff is convinced that Snader has actually taken them to the future. Kersey tells them that they have traveled six years back in time before the development of chromatics (color television). Bullen wants Jeff to develop color television for his company, Continental Radioptic Combine, so that he will be first on the market with color TVs. When Jeff and Ann eat at the restaurant, and Jeff tries to pay with two one-dollar bills, the clerk calls the bills “stage money” and motions for a policeman to come to them. The officer looks at the bills and wonders aloud what the United States of America is and tells Jeff he is in Costa, West Goodland, in the Continental Federation. None of this makes sense to Jeff and Ann, and when Jeff is interrogated at the police station, the questions seems stupid to him. When Bullen’s lawyer arrives to get Jeff and Ann out of jail, he explains to Jeff that he did travel six years in the past but that time is a dimension rather than a stream of events. He indicates that if Jeff went back to 1865, the people there would know nothing of Lincoln or the Civil War. Therefore, Jeff’s idea that he could buy the building is incorrect because different events will be happening in 1952. \n",
"Time plays a few roles in this story. One is the motivation for Jeff and Ann to be interested in the time-travel technology in the first place: if Jeff could travel back in time a few years, he could sign a lease for a building for a much cheaper price that the going rate in his own time. Snader takes advantage of this fact to slip himself into the conversation the couple is having and offer his services in time travel, the particular mechanics of which are another major role of time in this story. Snader offers a time travel service that works with a technology too complicated for him to be able to explain, but for which we see two screens in one room that have moving images on them. These screens show people passing through the timestream and work as stations along a moving path of time, kind of like a train line. Once the group travels on this \"time groove\", they notice a number of differences in the \"new\" time, the past that Snader comes from. In fact, because of the differences, even though Ann and Jeff are in the past, they think that they must be far in the future because of how different things are. One of these is the construction of a highway that was not there during their time, and the other is that nobody has heard of the United States of America. Jeff figures that nobody has heard of where he comes from because they have moved so far forward in time, when it is really because in this version of the past, the United States did not develop in the way it did in Jeff's time. Because time affects the way language develops, it is interesting that one of the major differences between the time Jeff and Ann live in compared to the time Snader is from is the way people talk. In the past (that is, Snader's time), there are a lot of phrases and nouns that do not match the same words that Jeff and Ann have for those same concepts. The word for lawyer, for instance, differs. However, the languages have enough in common for the people from the different times to communicate with one another. The story ends with a discussion of how this time travel works, to show how differently the various people think about time. "
] |
51167
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touched the water to his lips. It was cool and satisfying. He drank it, convinced completely. Eric asked, "And I am to destroy the City?" "Yes. The time has come." "But why?" Eric demanded. For an instant he could see the twinkling beauty as clearly as if he had stood outside the walls of this building. Kroon said, "There are difficulties. The machine builds according to the mass will of the people, though it is sensitive to the individual in areas where it does not conflict with the imagination of the mass. We have had strangers, visitors, and even our
space ship. We've enough concentrated supplies to last for a year. How far do we go? Why? When?" They stepped upon the Earth and felt the warmth of the sun and strolled toward the top of the hill. "The air smells clean," he said. "The ground feels good. I think I'll take off my shoes." She did. "Take off your boots, Michael. Try it." Wearily he pulled off his boots, stood in his bare feet. "It takes me back." "Yes," she said and began walking toward the hilltop. He followed, his boots slung around his neck. "There was a road
Varius II, a civilization as old as Earth's. Did whoever built these get to Varius? Or did they get to Earth? How can you know?" He kicked at the sand distractedly. "And most important, where are they now? A race with several thousand years...." "Fifteen thousand," Ball said. When Steffens looked up, he added: "That's what the geology boys say. Fifteen thousand, at the least." Steffens turned to stare unhappily at the buildings. When he realized now how really old they were, a sudden thought struck him. "But why buildings? Why did they have to build in stone, to last?
The Centaurian was grinning at her. "Do you always leave in a hurry?" she demanded, and instantly wished she hadn't said it. He gave no outward sign. "Long-time sleep," he announced. "Four, five hours maybe." The chest strap was lying loose at his side. "That long!" she was incredulous. "I'm never out more than three hours!" Unloosening more straps, she sat up, glanced at the control panel. "Not taking time," he stated simply and pointed to a dial. Gray shook her head and looked at the others. "That isn't doing either of them any good!" Rat nodded unhappily. "What's her
and didn't look at her. "You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock." "I can take it." Suddenly she smiled, wanly. "I was with the Fleet. How long will it take?" "Eight days, in that ship." Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Peterson was harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small ship meant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days in that untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl and Gladney. "Who was that ... man? The one you put out?" Gray
|
What is the significance of the Ringwave technology?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Control Group by Roger D. Aycock.
Relevant chunks:
immense value on the nature of time and space. As it is, I feel that it is a miscarriage of justice to hold me in connection with the murders I am sure Tony Carmen did commit. I hope this personal account when published will end the vicious story supported by the district attorney that it was I who sought Tony Carmen out and offered to dispose of his enemies and that I sought his financial backing for the exploitation of my invention. This is the true, and only true, account of the development of the machine known as the Expendable.
moved from the spot it was transmitted. I don't know for sure. Perhaps the slight Deneb-ward movement of the Solar System would wreck a perfect three-point landing even then and cause the dispatched materials to burn up from atmospheric friction, like meteors. You will just have to take a chance on the future. That's the best I can do." Carmen inhaled deeply. "Okay. I'll risk it. Pretty long odds against any squeal on the play. How many of these things can you turn out, Professor?" "I can construct a duplicate of this device so that you may destroy the unwanted
diffusing effect of unrestricted cosmic rays." "Yes, I knew that," said Anne. "But how—" Starrett grinned again. "A type of beam has been found which it is impossible for cosmics to disturb. But you can't send messages on it, so it is made in a little unit on every set. If that unit is broken, the set automatically releases a signal beam. This is a distress signal, and the location of the set that sent out the signal is recorded at the Section Headquarters. When Commander Weddel saw me throw something at the set, and it went dead, he looked
. It seemingly destroys matter without creating energy. Actually—" He paused dramatically. "Actually, your device added the energy it created in destroying matter to the energy potential of the planet in the form of heat . You see what that means? If your devices continue in operation, the mean temperature of Earth will rise to the point where we burst into flame. They must be outlawed!" "I agree," I said reluctantly. Tony Carmen spoke up. "No, you don't, Professor. We don't agree to that." I waved his protests aside. "I would agree," I said, "except that it wouldn't work. Explain
Blade—then Garrett could not kill him and cut the beam in time to prevent one of the police from giving a cry that would echo over the sub-space beam arriving almost instantly in this room, and let the girl know that she had been tricked. And Garrett would not want that. Not that it would matter to Starrett Blade. Then Star saw what kind of a transmitter it was, and he groaned. It was not a Hineson Sub-space beamer ... it was an old-style transmitter which had different wave speeds, because of the different space-bridger units in it. The visual
Question:
What is the significance of the Ringwave technology?
Answer:
|
[
"The Ringwave technology allowed humans to explore the neighboring systems of planets, find new habitable territories, and colonize them. It also partially leads to the invasion of the Bees and allows humans to fight with them. The knowledge about the history of the Ringwave propulsion-communication principle, especially the fact that it was discovered in 2100, also helps the crew realize that the spaceship on planet Alphard Six is atomic-powered and thus prehistoric. It’s eleven hundred years old, also Terran, and was brought here from somewhere else. \n",
"The Ringwave technology is what both the Bees and humans put their faith in. Ringwave energy is said to be very reliable, capable of long-range travel. Compared to any primitive technology before, the Ringwave and its Zero Interval Transfer principle was the only way for any instantaneous communication. It has been around since 2100, completely replacing rocket propulsion because the principles were so much more advanced. Even on the Marco Four, there is a Ringwave board and Ringwave generators used for travel through space. It is significant both for the humans and the Bees because both species rely on it for exploration. When the Bees colonized and conquered the humans, they relied on this technology. During the reclamation crew’s travels, they also used this technology to go to the different planets. ",
"The Ringwave technology is significant because it is what propelled Terrans forward in their technological pursuits and is what helps advance their generation. It is what allows them to pursue long-range travel and interstellar flight as the crew go about their reclamation journey. Additionally, this is the point of similarity between the Terrans and the Bees as they both rely on Ringwave energy fields over missiles as the choice weapon. \n\nIt is also significant because it highlights the difference between the Terrans and the Bees described and the Alphardians later discovered in the story. The Terrans and the Bees have access to such advanced technology that not only empowers their knowledge but their way of living, transportation, etc. In contrast, the Alphardians remain in the past with their comparatively archaic technologies and methods.",
"Ringwave technology is an energy field used for the energy source of Macro Four, the Terran Reclamation spaceship. Both humans and the alien species, Hymenops or the Bees, possess the Ringwave technology. Before the invention of Ringwave’s propulsion-communication principle in 2100, humans used atomic fission and rocket propulsion. However, only the Zero Interval Transfer principle and the instantaneous communication of Ringwave technology can make long-range interstellar travel possible. Since it was invented, the atomic fission stage in technology has long been abandoned for its destructive power and incapability to sustain long-range space travel. Therefore, when the spaceship is attacked by a seemingly guided missile, which can only be equipped with atomic technology, the crew members deny all the hypotheses of the possible situation of the unobserved planet based on the technological development and the necessary time taken. Ringwave technology is significant in that the crew members theorize or assume the situation on the unobserved planet based on its existence and technological development."
] |
24949
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immense value on the nature of time and space. As it is, I feel that it is a miscarriage of justice to hold me in connection with the murders I am sure Tony Carmen did commit. I hope this personal account when published will end the vicious story supported by the district attorney that it was I who sought Tony Carmen out and offered to dispose of his enemies and that I sought his financial backing for the exploitation of my invention. This is the true, and only true, account of the development of the machine known as the Expendable.
moved from the spot it was transmitted. I don't know for sure. Perhaps the slight Deneb-ward movement of the Solar System would wreck a perfect three-point landing even then and cause the dispatched materials to burn up from atmospheric friction, like meteors. You will just have to take a chance on the future. That's the best I can do." Carmen inhaled deeply. "Okay. I'll risk it. Pretty long odds against any squeal on the play. How many of these things can you turn out, Professor?" "I can construct a duplicate of this device so that you may destroy the unwanted
diffusing effect of unrestricted cosmic rays." "Yes, I knew that," said Anne. "But how—" Starrett grinned again. "A type of beam has been found which it is impossible for cosmics to disturb. But you can't send messages on it, so it is made in a little unit on every set. If that unit is broken, the set automatically releases a signal beam. This is a distress signal, and the location of the set that sent out the signal is recorded at the Section Headquarters. When Commander Weddel saw me throw something at the set, and it went dead, he looked
. It seemingly destroys matter without creating energy. Actually—" He paused dramatically. "Actually, your device added the energy it created in destroying matter to the energy potential of the planet in the form of heat . You see what that means? If your devices continue in operation, the mean temperature of Earth will rise to the point where we burst into flame. They must be outlawed!" "I agree," I said reluctantly. Tony Carmen spoke up. "No, you don't, Professor. We don't agree to that." I waved his protests aside. "I would agree," I said, "except that it wouldn't work. Explain
Blade—then Garrett could not kill him and cut the beam in time to prevent one of the police from giving a cry that would echo over the sub-space beam arriving almost instantly in this room, and let the girl know that she had been tricked. And Garrett would not want that. Not that it would matter to Starrett Blade. Then Star saw what kind of a transmitter it was, and he groaned. It was not a Hineson Sub-space beamer ... it was an old-style transmitter which had different wave speeds, because of the different space-bridger units in it. The visual
|
What is the significance of the siren?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Serpent River by Don Wilcox.
Relevant chunks:
were few extraterrestrial clocks because most non-humans had time sense, Michael knew, and needed no mechanical devices. "This," said Carpenter, "is Times Square. Once it wasn't really square, but it is contrary to Nekkarian custom to do, say, imply, or permit the existence of anything that isn't true, so when Nekkar entered the Union, we had to square off the place. And, of course, install the clocks. Finest clock museum in the Union, I understand." "The pictures in my history books—" Michael began. "Did I hear you correctly, sir?" The capes of a bright blue cloak trembled with the indignation
"And the man. Who was the man? I never saw him before. He wasn't a local man. He was a stranger. All muddy and dirty, his face cut, slashed—" There was a strange look on the Commissioner's face as he answered. "Maybe," he said softly, "you'll understand that, too. Come along with me, Mr. Loyce." He held the door open, his eyes gleaming. Loyce caught a glimpse of the street in front of the police station. Policemen, a platform of some sort. A telephone pole—and a rope! "Right this way," the Commissioner said, smiling coldly. As the sun set, the
What is POSAT? By PHYLLIS STERLING SMITH Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Of course coming events cast their shadows before, but this shadow was 400 years long! The following advertisement appeared in the July 1953 issue of several magazines: MASTERY OF ALL KNOWLEDGE CAN BE YOURS! What is the secret source of those profound principles that can solve the problems of life? Send for our FREE booklet of explanation. Do not be a
a valuable Reorientations ship by landing blind on an unobserved planet. We're too close already. Cut in your shields and find a reconnaissance spiral, will you?" Grumbling, Farrell punched coordinates on the Ringwave board that lifted the Marco Four out of her descent and restored the bluish enveloping haze of her repellors. Stryker's caution was justified on the instant. The speeding streamlined shape that had flashed up unobserved from below swerved sharply and exploded in a cataclysmic blaze of atomic fire that rocked the ship wildly and flung the three men to the floor in a jangling roar of alarms.
Wilkins," he said. "I'll take over now. You may go to the meeting." Wilkins looked at him bewilderedly. "Huh? Whuzzat, Mr. Jones?" Isobar's eyebrows arched. "You mean you haven't been notified?" "Notified of what ?" "Why, the general council of all Patrolmen! Weren't you told that I would take your place here while you reported to G.H.Q.?" "I ain't," puzzled Wilkins, "heard nothing about it. Maybe I ought to call the office, maybe?" And he moved the wall-audio. But Isobar said swiftly. "That—er—won't be necessary, Wilkins. My orders were plain enough. Now, you just run along. I'll watch this entrance
Question:
What is the significance of the siren?
Answer:
|
[
"When Linden and Campbell arrive at the planet, they are primarily interested in the snaking silver rope that travels around the continent like a river, but they notice some people seemingly coming from underground. As these people were performing a ritual, the humans noticed an impending attack from a different group, but didn't want to use weapons so they started a siren on their ship to distract the attackers. This siren did scare these attackers off for a while, and when Linden and Campbell started trying to communicate with the Benzendella people the only thing the Benzendellas could say was an imitation of the siren noise. It was this siren that saved the people from the initial attack, and thus made these people trust the humans, but was also the beginning of their attempts at communication. In an indirect way, using this siren is how the humans ended up with a chance to ask the Benzendella people about the Serpent River that they came to learn more about. ",
"Captain Linden and Split Campbell use the sirens to scare away the attackers in the sponge trees to protect the Benzendella people. Because the people on the planet don’t have advanced technology, they don’t know what causes the sound of the siren, and it startles them so much that they pull back their attack. Linden and Campbell likely avert a massacre because the attackers in the trees are armed with clubs and whips with stones tied to the ends; taking their quarry by surprise with these weapons would put them at a distinct advantage. The Benzendella were engaged in some type of ritual and were unarmed when the attackers surprised them. Once the Benzendella realize the two men were responsible for the siren that saved them from the attack, they are willing to meet them close up. When the Benzendella speak to them, they make the siren sounds and seem to want the men to cause them to sound again. When the warriors launch another attack, Linden and Campbell throw a capsule bomb at them, making them drop back again, but once again, they push forward. Linden and Campbell throw fire at the warriors, making the rock break and fly up and hit them. Some of the warriors are killed or disabled, and the rest flee. So the siren is the start of a friendship between the two men on the expedition and the native people of the planet.\n",
"When the tree-disguised attackers descend upon the Benzendellas, Jim orders Split to trigger the \"number sixteen siren\", which emits a loud wail and causes the attackers to retreat. Jim and Split set the siren to ten minutes as they begin their half-mile hike to meet Tomboldo and his party. This offers them some security as they walk in addition to their stash of capsule bombs. Fearing another attack, Tomboldo and his crew of guards and officials mimic the siren sound as they make their way back to their city in order to ward off their enemies. While the legitimate siren sound keeps the attackers away, the copycat sound made by Tomboldo's people does not fool them, and they attack once more. This gives Jim the opportunity to deploy his capsule bombs, and Gravgak's actions in response lead him to further question the loyalty of Tomboldo's guard. Jim also winds up in a state of unconsciousness as a result of the attack, and this is how he meets and falls in love with Tomboldo's daughter Vauna.",
"The siren saves the lives of the Benzendella people. As the sponge-tree warriors attacked them, Captain Linden ordered Split to hit #16, the siren. The sound pierced the sunset and caused the warriors to retreat. After saving the Benzendella, Tomboldo is indebted to Linden and Split. He invites them to their home underground and eventually on a trip across the Serpent River. \nThe siren is the beginning of the relationship between the humans and the Benzendella. Their gratitude allows Linden and Split to become their friends and acquaintances. The siren also showed how vulnerable the Benzendella are to attack when on the surface of the planet. Later, the Benzedella attempt to mimic the siren in an attempt to keep the warriors at bay. \n"
] |
50923
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were few extraterrestrial clocks because most non-humans had time sense, Michael knew, and needed no mechanical devices. "This," said Carpenter, "is Times Square. Once it wasn't really square, but it is contrary to Nekkarian custom to do, say, imply, or permit the existence of anything that isn't true, so when Nekkar entered the Union, we had to square off the place. And, of course, install the clocks. Finest clock museum in the Union, I understand." "The pictures in my history books—" Michael began. "Did I hear you correctly, sir?" The capes of a bright blue cloak trembled with the indignation
"And the man. Who was the man? I never saw him before. He wasn't a local man. He was a stranger. All muddy and dirty, his face cut, slashed—" There was a strange look on the Commissioner's face as he answered. "Maybe," he said softly, "you'll understand that, too. Come along with me, Mr. Loyce." He held the door open, his eyes gleaming. Loyce caught a glimpse of the street in front of the police station. Policemen, a platform of some sort. A telephone pole—and a rope! "Right this way," the Commissioner said, smiling coldly. As the sun set, the
What is POSAT? By PHYLLIS STERLING SMITH Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Of course coming events cast their shadows before, but this shadow was 400 years long! The following advertisement appeared in the July 1953 issue of several magazines: MASTERY OF ALL KNOWLEDGE CAN BE YOURS! What is the secret source of those profound principles that can solve the problems of life? Send for our FREE booklet of explanation. Do not be a
a valuable Reorientations ship by landing blind on an unobserved planet. We're too close already. Cut in your shields and find a reconnaissance spiral, will you?" Grumbling, Farrell punched coordinates on the Ringwave board that lifted the Marco Four out of her descent and restored the bluish enveloping haze of her repellors. Stryker's caution was justified on the instant. The speeding streamlined shape that had flashed up unobserved from below swerved sharply and exploded in a cataclysmic blaze of atomic fire that rocked the ship wildly and flung the three men to the floor in a jangling roar of alarms.
Wilkins," he said. "I'll take over now. You may go to the meeting." Wilkins looked at him bewilderedly. "Huh? Whuzzat, Mr. Jones?" Isobar's eyebrows arched. "You mean you haven't been notified?" "Notified of what ?" "Why, the general council of all Patrolmen! Weren't you told that I would take your place here while you reported to G.H.Q.?" "I ain't," puzzled Wilkins, "heard nothing about it. Maybe I ought to call the office, maybe?" And he moved the wall-audio. But Isobar said swiftly. "That—er—won't be necessary, Wilkins. My orders were plain enough. Now, you just run along. I'll watch this entrance
|
What is the relationship between Judith and Patti Gray?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Prison Planet by Wilson Tucker.
Relevant chunks:
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
Lord, the whole damned world was wrong! Edna didn't wake him, so they had a late lunch. Then he went back to the barn and let the four cows and four sheep and two horses into the pastures. Then he checked to see that Edna had fed the chickens right. They had only a dozen or so now. When had he sold the rest? And when had he sold his other livestock? Or had they died somehow? A rough winter? Disease? He stood in the yard, a tall, husky man with pale brown hair and a face that had once
just didn't seem right, all that land going to waste.... Davie. Blond hair and a round, tanned face and strong arms growing stronger each day from helping out after school. He turned and shook Edna. "What happened to Davie?" She cleared her throat, mumbled, "Huh? What happened to who?" "I said, what...." But then it slipped away. Davie? No, that was part of a dream he'd had last week. He and Edna had no children. He felt the fear again, and got up fast to escape it. Edna opened her eyes as soon as his weight left the bed. "Like
Andy could only shrug and indicate the girl. Turning away, lighting a cigarette, he tried to focus on the tangle of thoughts that spun through his head. Doctors, writers, society matrons, office workers—Aspen, Taos and college towns—thousands of people sick—but none in that valley in Tennessee—and few government workers—just one girl in his office—and she was sicker and more frightened about a letter—and.... "Hey, wait!" Andy yelled. Everyone in the room froze as Andy spun around, dashed to Bettijean's desk and yanked out the wide, top drawer. He pawed through it, straightened, then leaped across to the desk Janis had
the trilogy. You don't get any thing for nothing. So add this: Cost. Or you might call it pain, sorrow, agony. Call it what you like. It's what you pay for great treasure.... These things were true when fabled Jason sailed the Argo beyond Colchis seeking the Fleece. They were true when men sailed the southern oceans in wooden ships. And the conquest of space hasn't changed us a bit. We're still a greedy lot.... I'm a queer one to be saying these things, but then, who has more right? Look at me. My hair is gray and my face
Question:
What is the relationship between Judith and Patti Gray?
Answer:
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[
"Patti Gray is Judith's nurse, governess, guard and everything of that kind. Judith is only seventeen and they are pretty close with Patti. The least watches over the sick, reports her condition and fulfills the girl's request like asking Rat to pilot the ship. Judith relies on her nurse, she calls for her when in pain and tells her how sorry she is for causing trouble. Judith's call makes Patti get up even when she herself is in pain. She is anxious for the girl not making it to the hospital. The two stick together as they crashed together after an attack on their spaceship and have to return to Earth together. ",
"Patti is implied to have a caring role over Judith, such as a governess that can also be seen as a nurse or protector. Patti is helping take care of Judith as she is currently ill. She worries a great deal about Judith’s health and is doing everything possible to try to get her to help faster. They were previously on a ship together but it crashed. The trip was meant to be a vacation trip and the cruiser ship was owned by Judith’s father. Patti takes on a caring role for Judith as she tries to reassure her that the decision they made to leave early has been done. ",
"Judith and Patti Gray share a caring relationship. Patti Gray is a combination guard, nurse, and governess to the seventeen year old girl. Nurse Gray cares for Judith for most of the trip and constantly checks up on her to make sure her condition is not worse than it already is. The two of them are very close as well. When Judith feels guilty about the foolish stunt she causes and the consequences she faces, Gray tells her that it is not her fault because others have also experienced the same. Even though she could have chosen to stay until Roberds piloted the ship, she agreed to ask Rat to pilot the ship because of Judith’s choice of which pilot she wants to fly her. This action shows that she is very considerate of Judith’s opinions and wants.",
"Patti Gray is a maternal figure of sorts to Judith. She accompanies her on her trip to Mars, and when Judith becomes ill, Patti becomes her caretaker, aided by her nursing skills. Patti Gray looks after Judith, staying by her side throughout the night and then joining her on the ship when Rat comes to retrieve them. Judith is young, only seventeen, and because of this looks to Patti when she is ill, calling for her several times on the ship."
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course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
Lord, the whole damned world was wrong! Edna didn't wake him, so they had a late lunch. Then he went back to the barn and let the four cows and four sheep and two horses into the pastures. Then he checked to see that Edna had fed the chickens right. They had only a dozen or so now. When had he sold the rest? And when had he sold his other livestock? Or had they died somehow? A rough winter? Disease? He stood in the yard, a tall, husky man with pale brown hair and a face that had once
just didn't seem right, all that land going to waste.... Davie. Blond hair and a round, tanned face and strong arms growing stronger each day from helping out after school. He turned and shook Edna. "What happened to Davie?" She cleared her throat, mumbled, "Huh? What happened to who?" "I said, what...." But then it slipped away. Davie? No, that was part of a dream he'd had last week. He and Edna had no children. He felt the fear again, and got up fast to escape it. Edna opened her eyes as soon as his weight left the bed. "Like
Andy could only shrug and indicate the girl. Turning away, lighting a cigarette, he tried to focus on the tangle of thoughts that spun through his head. Doctors, writers, society matrons, office workers—Aspen, Taos and college towns—thousands of people sick—but none in that valley in Tennessee—and few government workers—just one girl in his office—and she was sicker and more frightened about a letter—and.... "Hey, wait!" Andy yelled. Everyone in the room froze as Andy spun around, dashed to Bettijean's desk and yanked out the wide, top drawer. He pawed through it, straightened, then leaped across to the desk Janis had
the trilogy. You don't get any thing for nothing. So add this: Cost. Or you might call it pain, sorrow, agony. Call it what you like. It's what you pay for great treasure.... These things were true when fabled Jason sailed the Argo beyond Colchis seeking the Fleece. They were true when men sailed the southern oceans in wooden ships. And the conquest of space hasn't changed us a bit. We're still a greedy lot.... I'm a queer one to be saying these things, but then, who has more right? Look at me. My hair is gray and my face
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What are Professor Venetti’s inventions and what do they do?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Expendables by Jim Harmon.
Relevant chunks:
much about them." "But how could a man alive today buy paintings from an artist of the Renaissance?" "He is not alive today. POSAT is actually what our advertisements claim—an ancient secret society. Our founder has been dead for over four centuries." "But you said that he designed your atomic reactor." "Yes. This particular one has been in use for only twenty years, however." Don's confusion was complete. Crandon looked at him kindly. "Let's start at the beginning," he said, and Don was back again in the classroom with the deep voice of Professor Crandon unfolding the pages of knowledge
forget that one of the prime purposes of our organization is to maintain the secrecy of our discoveries until they can be safely disclosed. We must be absolutely certain that anyone who enters this building will have joined POSAT before he leaves. What if we approached the wrong scientist? Centuries of accomplishment might be wasted if they attempted either to reveal it or to exploit it! "Do you recall the questionnaires that you answered before you were invited here? We fed the answers to this machine and, as a result, we know more about how you will react in any
in clear and logical manner. "Four hundred years ago, in the time of the Italian Renaissance, a man lived who was a super-genius. His was the kind of incredible mentality that appears not in every generation, or even every century, but once in thousands of years. "Probably the man who invented what we call the phonetic alphabet was one like him. That man lived seven thousand years ago in Mesopotamia, and his discovery was so original, so far from the natural course of man's thinking, that not once in the intervening seven thousand years has that device been rediscovered. It
a part could be consummated. One of those old ventures had succeeded, he thought, and was awed by the daring of that thousand-year odyssey. The realization left him more alarmed than before—for what technical marvels might not an isolated group of such dogged specialists have developed during a millennium of application? Such a weapon as had brought down the helihopper and scouter was patently beyond reach of his own latter-day technology. Perhaps, he thought, its possession explained the presence of these people here in the first stronghold of the Hymenops; perhaps they had even fought and defeated the Bees on
still exists only in the civilizations to which it has been passed on directly. "The super-genius who was our founder was not a semanticist. He was a physical scientist and mathematician. Starting with the meager heritage that existed in these fields in his time, he began tackling physical puzzles one by one. Sitting in his study, using as his principal tool his own great mind, he invented calculus, developed the quantum theory of light, moved on to electromagnetic radiation and what we call Maxwell's equations—although, of course, he antedated Maxwell by centuries—developed the special and general theories of relativity, the
Question:
What are Professor Venetti’s inventions and what do they do?
Answer:
|
[
"Professor Venetti’s inventions are the Expendables which can decompose anything into nothingness without apparent side effects. It is first shown to violate the energy conservation rule when Professor Venetti finds it produces nothing after the decomposition, and he does not know where the decomposed particles go. However, later in the story, it is revealed by an investigator of the Atomic Energy Commission that the energy transformed from mass through the machine turns into heat, resulting in the rising global temperature. The other device he creates is Disexpendable, the reverse version of the Expendable. It is a medium-sized drum in a frame with an unturned coolie’s hat at the bottom. Disexpendable has a low-efficiency engine, and it can consume excess energy produced by the Expendable and lower the temperature. Consuming the excess energy also makes the once-decomposed mass back together again, such as the corpse.",
"Professor Venetti’s first invention is called an Expandable. Initially, it’s believed to be able to destroy any physical object without any energy traces. But later the characters learn that the energy of all the waste has been turning into heat, increasing the mean temperature on Earth. This invention almost could lead to climate catastrophe. The second invention is called the Disexpendable - it is an engine that uses excess heat energy. It can be created by reversing the field of the first mechanism. It can draw back the processed material or people, as we see when the body of Harry Keno, who vanished months ago, together with his warehouse, appears on the revolving disk of the engine. ",
"Professor Venetti worked for the U.S. government in order to make a device that could get rid of radioactive waste. The device that he created is called an expendable, and it is a box that gets rid of anything that is put in it without any trace. The inventions allow for an increased convenience for consumers who need to get rid of things. At first, the inventions were thought to have no environmental impact, but it is revealed that they had a lot of impact on global warming, as it released energy as heat energy. ",
"Professor Venetti is working on a secret project with the government to create an innovation that would potentially be able to get rid of radioactive wastes. The problem that Venetti is faced with is that getting an energy to destroy another energy without creating new energy actually violates the law of conservation of energy. Nevertheless, Venetti tries to challenge this law. Venetti has yet to succeed in finding such an invention because this requires a neutralization of the radioactive emanations while he has only been able to reduce the radioactive mass. Ultimately, motivated by Venetti’s agreement, he finds a way to make trash disappear but by completely destroying its mass. Together with Carmen, they call this machine the “Expendable.” The only issue is that Venetti does not actually know where the disappeared mass goes. Later, this invention causes issues as by violating the law of conservation of energy, it raises the Earth’s temperature. To fix this, Venetti comes up with another invention, the “Disexpendable,” which would do the opposite effect, consuming the excess energy. He is able to restore the cool temperature back but as a result, this unfortunately brings back all radioactive wastes that were removed by the “Expendables” too.\n"
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much about them." "But how could a man alive today buy paintings from an artist of the Renaissance?" "He is not alive today. POSAT is actually what our advertisements claim—an ancient secret society. Our founder has been dead for over four centuries." "But you said that he designed your atomic reactor." "Yes. This particular one has been in use for only twenty years, however." Don's confusion was complete. Crandon looked at him kindly. "Let's start at the beginning," he said, and Don was back again in the classroom with the deep voice of Professor Crandon unfolding the pages of knowledge
forget that one of the prime purposes of our organization is to maintain the secrecy of our discoveries until they can be safely disclosed. We must be absolutely certain that anyone who enters this building will have joined POSAT before he leaves. What if we approached the wrong scientist? Centuries of accomplishment might be wasted if they attempted either to reveal it or to exploit it! "Do you recall the questionnaires that you answered before you were invited here? We fed the answers to this machine and, as a result, we know more about how you will react in any
in clear and logical manner. "Four hundred years ago, in the time of the Italian Renaissance, a man lived who was a super-genius. His was the kind of incredible mentality that appears not in every generation, or even every century, but once in thousands of years. "Probably the man who invented what we call the phonetic alphabet was one like him. That man lived seven thousand years ago in Mesopotamia, and his discovery was so original, so far from the natural course of man's thinking, that not once in the intervening seven thousand years has that device been rediscovered. It
a part could be consummated. One of those old ventures had succeeded, he thought, and was awed by the daring of that thousand-year odyssey. The realization left him more alarmed than before—for what technical marvels might not an isolated group of such dogged specialists have developed during a millennium of application? Such a weapon as had brought down the helihopper and scouter was patently beyond reach of his own latter-day technology. Perhaps, he thought, its possession explained the presence of these people here in the first stronghold of the Hymenops; perhaps they had even fought and defeated the Bees on
still exists only in the civilizations to which it has been passed on directly. "The super-genius who was our founder was not a semanticist. He was a physical scientist and mathematician. Starting with the meager heritage that existed in these fields in his time, he began tackling physical puzzles one by one. Sitting in his study, using as his principal tool his own great mind, he invented calculus, developed the quantum theory of light, moved on to electromagnetic radiation and what we call Maxwell's equations—although, of course, he antedated Maxwell by centuries—developed the special and general theories of relativity, the
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What do Shano’s occupation and actions thoughts the story reveal about his traits?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Signal Red by Henry Guth.
Relevant chunks:
weapon, picked up the book and leafed through it, raising his head in a listening attitude, searching for a suitable passage. Michaelson heard the thin, metallic pages rustle softly. He could have jumped and seized the weapon at that moment, but his desire to hear the book was strong. Old Maota read, Michaelson listened. The cadence was different, the syntax confusing. But the thoughts were there. It might have been a professor back on Earth reading to his students. Keats, Shelley, Browning. These people were human, with human thoughts and aspirations. The old man stopped reading. He squatted slowly, keeping
America. I was hunting this evil man when my bird died." He smiled and his brown arm tightened around Sarna's golden body. "The evil man is dead. My native valley is safe. Now I can live in peace with you, Gurn, and with your sister, here in the jungle." "It is good, Noork," smiled Tholon Sarna. End of Project Gutenberg's Raiders of the Second Moon, by Gene Ellerman
Satisfied that no one was near, he stooped and picked up the book again. "Good God!" he said aloud. It was the book talking. His fingers had touched the writing again. It was not a voice, exactly, but a stirring in his mind, like a strange language heard for the first time. A talking book. What other surprises were in the city? Tall, fragile buildings laughing at time and weather. A clock measuring God-knows-what. If such wonders remained, what about those already destroyed? One could only guess at the machines, the gadgets, the artistry already decayed and blown away to
to hear it. Whatever was on her mind prevented even that incredible statement from penetrating. She walked shakily to the table and put down a briefcase, one end of which was smudged with dirt. Without looking at them, she said, "Ivan left the Deep Space Bar twenty minutes ago, said he was coming straight here. On my way back I searched the path. Midway I found this half-buried in the dirt. I had to tug to get it out—almost as if it had been cemented into the ground. Do you feel how the dirt seems to be in the leather,
shadow when he thinks?" "That is Gurn," admitted Noork shortly. "He is also an exile from the walled city of Grath. The city rulers call him a traitor. He has told me the reason. Perhaps you know it as well?" "Indeed I do," cried Sarna. "My brother said that we should no longer make slaves of the captured Zurans from the other valleys." Noork smiled. "I am glad he is your brother," he said simply. The girl's eyes fell before his admiring gaze and warm blood flooded into her rounded neck and lovely cheeks. "Brown-skinned one!" she cried with a
Question:
What do Shano’s occupation and actions thoughts the story reveal about his traits?
Answer:
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[
"Shano’s occupation is being a miner and laborer. His time mining on Pluto leaves his lungs permanently damaged, and he has a constant cough that never seems to go away. However, he has been to many other planets as well, including Mars and Uranus. Although Shano is only a lowly miner, his actions also reveal how courageous and righteous he is as a person. His decision to take the liner, despite the red signal, shows that he is willing to take risks to reach his goal. Later, when he remembers why Rourke cannot be trusted, he does not hesitate to take matters into his own hands to deal with the traitor. Shano’s bravery is also shown when he braves the toxic gas to save the liner. He knows that he can last for up to 12 hours at most and that he will most likely die on the trip home. However, this does not deter him if he can get the ship safely to Venus. While Shano’s occupation in the story is not regarded highly, his actions show that he should not be underestimated. ",
"Shano is tired of his life and wants to rest. He goes back home with the thought of dying there. For this reason he puts himself in danger by taking this flight with a red signal - he doesn't have what to live for, only for coming home to die. He is also brave and noble as he saves the whole crew by going to the engine room. He is full of initiative, he can't sit still in the cabin. His mind is not used to thinking, he is a worker but he understands he is the only one who can last in the toxic gas and he understands who the traitor is. His desire to get home alive or dead moves him forward and makes him brave as it is the only sense in his life. He is happy to be of use at least as he feels old and feeble from time to time as he has worked with gas and his lungs are damaged.\n",
"Shano is very weak, when he coughs his whole body jerk. He also has arthritic joints pain along his limbs. He was digging, lifting, lugging and pounding around the planet for his whole life. He states that he is a laborer. He has worked in the Plutonian mines, where other men died from the toxia gas, he simply got sick because of the gum-clogged lungs. \n\nHe acts impulsively. He has heard rumors about nicked jaws, which lead him to murder Rourke. He does not really feel happy or sad when thinking of going home, but he is determined to go home to die. However, he changes his mind when he heard about the toxia gas in the engine room. When the red signal appears, he still decides to aboard the ship. He knows that he is not used to thinking, but doing works by his hands. Shano knows that he is helping the ship by entering the Engine Room, thus he feels happy. He calls himself useless, but being able to accomplish something as important as killing a spy and driving the ship, he feels good. This is more important than dying at home. ",
"Shano is an ex-labourer, working on different planets as he went. He has spent his life \"digging, lifting, lugging and pounding\". He is tired and hates the idea of spending another minute on Mercury. He is frustrated with his position in life, having a bit of a chip on his shoulder, immediately noticing the change in treatment the captain shows him once he realises his occupation. A lifetime of working on his feet has left his body aching, and all he wants to do is get home to die. It seems he has given up in life. He believes that he hasn't lived a life of any note, and he just wants to end it now. He reveals his insecurity through his thoughts, presuming about how the captain and crew see him based on his status. He is wise and has a great memory, being able to rehash a conversation he had with a coworker about a man with a notched jaw. He is clearly resentful of the way he has been treated in life, calling himself an \"ignorant\" man. He is clearly very curious, going outside his bunk when the ship goes dark. He breaks rules and doesn't take orders. He also clearly has a very strong sense of right and wrong, killing Rourke when he realises who he is. He decides he finally wants to be a hero in life, and goes and mends the ship. He displays not only his sense of duty in this but his longing for recognition. "
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weapon, picked up the book and leafed through it, raising his head in a listening attitude, searching for a suitable passage. Michaelson heard the thin, metallic pages rustle softly. He could have jumped and seized the weapon at that moment, but his desire to hear the book was strong. Old Maota read, Michaelson listened. The cadence was different, the syntax confusing. But the thoughts were there. It might have been a professor back on Earth reading to his students. Keats, Shelley, Browning. These people were human, with human thoughts and aspirations. The old man stopped reading. He squatted slowly, keeping
America. I was hunting this evil man when my bird died." He smiled and his brown arm tightened around Sarna's golden body. "The evil man is dead. My native valley is safe. Now I can live in peace with you, Gurn, and with your sister, here in the jungle." "It is good, Noork," smiled Tholon Sarna. End of Project Gutenberg's Raiders of the Second Moon, by Gene Ellerman
Satisfied that no one was near, he stooped and picked up the book again. "Good God!" he said aloud. It was the book talking. His fingers had touched the writing again. It was not a voice, exactly, but a stirring in his mind, like a strange language heard for the first time. A talking book. What other surprises were in the city? Tall, fragile buildings laughing at time and weather. A clock measuring God-knows-what. If such wonders remained, what about those already destroyed? One could only guess at the machines, the gadgets, the artistry already decayed and blown away to
to hear it. Whatever was on her mind prevented even that incredible statement from penetrating. She walked shakily to the table and put down a briefcase, one end of which was smudged with dirt. Without looking at them, she said, "Ivan left the Deep Space Bar twenty minutes ago, said he was coming straight here. On my way back I searched the path. Midway I found this half-buried in the dirt. I had to tug to get it out—almost as if it had been cemented into the ground. Do you feel how the dirt seems to be in the leather,
shadow when he thinks?" "That is Gurn," admitted Noork shortly. "He is also an exile from the walled city of Grath. The city rulers call him a traitor. He has told me the reason. Perhaps you know it as well?" "Indeed I do," cried Sarna. "My brother said that we should no longer make slaves of the captured Zurans from the other valleys." Noork smiled. "I am glad he is your brother," he said simply. The girl's eyes fell before his admiring gaze and warm blood flooded into her rounded neck and lovely cheeks. "Brown-skinned one!" she cried with a
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What is the meaning of the trip back for the whole story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Tea Tray in the Sky by Evelyn E. Smith.
Relevant chunks:
explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
the full vigor of youth do—if his heart cries out for a home? They all knew he was a spacer because of the white goggle marks on his sun-scorched face, and so they tolerated him and helped him. They even made allowances for him when he staggered and fell in the aisle of the bus while pursuing the harassed little housewife from seat to seat and cajoling her to sit and talk with him. Having fallen, he decided to sleep in the aisle. Two men helped him to the back of the bus, dumped him on the rear seat, and
was back. He went upstairs and slept again, but this time he had dreams, many of them, and all confused and all frightening. He was glad to get up. And he was glad to hear Walt and Gloria talking to Edna downstairs. He washed his face, combed his hair and went down. Walt and Gloria were sitting on the sofa, Edna in the blue armchair. Walt was saying he'd gotten the new TV picture tube he'd ordered. "Found it in the supply bin this morning. Spent the whole day installing it according to the book of directions." Harry said hi
us. On that day, I walked farther than I had intended and, by the time I got back home, I found the rest of my family had returned before me. They seemed to be excited about something and were surprised to see me so calm. "Aren't you even interested in anything outside your own immediate concerns, Kev?" Sylvia demanded, despite Father's efforts to shush her. "Can't you remember that Kev isn't able to receive the tellies?" Tim shot back at her. "He probably doesn't even know what's happened." "Well, what did happen?" I asked, trying not to snap. "One starship
Question:
What is the meaning of the trip back for the whole story?
Answer:
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[
"The final passages reflect how Michael's attitude towards the outside world has changed. The Sirians' song, which sparked curiosity in him in the beginning of the story, annoys him now and makes him miss home even more. The advideo is annoying as well, as those are all over the universe and can't be turned off. Those are the annoying features of the world about which nothing can be done, and for Michael one day was enough to get tired of them. Michael has fulfilled the purpose of his visit to Earth, he understands now why the Brotherhood is so isolated from the world and he likes it. He starts missing home and his girl in one day on Earth and gladly decides to return. The Earth experience makes him sure in how he wants to live in the future - in the Brotherhood, without the constant fear of mistakes and restrictions on every step, married to his girl. The civilization seems awful to the youth, but it is spreading, as the taxi driver says. Nevertheless, Michael doesn't care about it, he feels safe in Brotherhood, and it is definitely the right place for him.",
"The meaning of the trip back is to show Michael’s development throughout the story and how he has matured into realizing that he is much more suited for life at the Brotherhood than under the rules of the United Universe. This directly contrasts his initial plan too. He, at first, wants to move to Earth and away from the Brotherhood, thinking of how it would let him start a much more exciting new life. However, the trip back shows just how unadaptable he is to the strict customs that exist and constantly expand. When he realizes this, the trip back symbolizes his maturity and realization that life back home is what is much more suited for anyways. ",
"The meaning of the trip back to the Brotherhood means that Michael does not like the way that the civilized live. He specifically mentions that he is not staying in Portyork after hearing that if he brings his girl, they cannot permanently get married, since following the custom of Talitha, one cannot have exclusive possession over one from the other sex. Simply stated, he have to share her and she have to share him if anyone wishes to have either of them. Moreover, stating that the females at the Brotherhood don’t mind being generic shows that Michael does not praise the numerous tabus and customs that they have to follow simply because another planet is following it. ",
"The trip back means that the civilisation of the United Universe is spreading. Soon, the brotherhood will be taken over. There will be no trace of the old world. there will be nowhere to escape from this constant fear of saying the wrong thing by mistake, and ending up breaking the law. There will be no more love, or monogamous relationships. Micheal and his girlfriend might never get married. They might never be able to have a family. So many planets will eventually join that no one will be able to do or say anything at all, and the things that make different cultures special will be lost, as they offend another. \n"
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explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
the full vigor of youth do—if his heart cries out for a home? They all knew he was a spacer because of the white goggle marks on his sun-scorched face, and so they tolerated him and helped him. They even made allowances for him when he staggered and fell in the aisle of the bus while pursuing the harassed little housewife from seat to seat and cajoling her to sit and talk with him. Having fallen, he decided to sleep in the aisle. Two men helped him to the back of the bus, dumped him on the rear seat, and
was back. He went upstairs and slept again, but this time he had dreams, many of them, and all confused and all frightening. He was glad to get up. And he was glad to hear Walt and Gloria talking to Edna downstairs. He washed his face, combed his hair and went down. Walt and Gloria were sitting on the sofa, Edna in the blue armchair. Walt was saying he'd gotten the new TV picture tube he'd ordered. "Found it in the supply bin this morning. Spent the whole day installing it according to the book of directions." Harry said hi
us. On that day, I walked farther than I had intended and, by the time I got back home, I found the rest of my family had returned before me. They seemed to be excited about something and were surprised to see me so calm. "Aren't you even interested in anything outside your own immediate concerns, Kev?" Sylvia demanded, despite Father's efforts to shush her. "Can't you remember that Kev isn't able to receive the tellies?" Tim shot back at her. "He probably doesn't even know what's happened." "Well, what did happen?" I asked, trying not to snap. "One starship
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Describe the character of Ryd.
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Saboteur of Space by Robert Abernathy.
Relevant chunks:
It would take hours to explain. However, I'll just sum it up in one word: politics. Politics, with which Rat had no connection saved him." The girl shook her head, more in sympathy than condemnation. "Are you expecting the others in soon?" she asked. "It wouldn't be right to leave Peterson." "They will be in, in a day or two. Peterson will beat it over to Base station for repairs, and to notify Earth we're coming. He'll be all right." Abruptly she stood up. "Goodnight gentlemen. Call me if I'm needed." Roberds nodded acknowledgement. The door to the side room
provided the answer by alighting at the lip with a jar that shook the ship. He was breathing heavily and lugging something in his arms. The burden groaned. "Gladney!" Nurse Gray exclaimed. "I got." Rat confirmed. "Yes, Gladney. Damn heavy, Gladney." "But how?" she demanded. "What of Roberds and Peterson?" "Trick," he sniggered. "I burn down my shack. Boss run out. I run in. Very simple." He packed Gladney into the remaining hammock and snapped buckles. "And Peterson?" she prompted. "Oh yes. Peterson. So sorry about Peterson. Had to fan him." " Fan him? I don't understand." "Fan. With chair.
looked into the far future. She said, "He is Eric the Bronze. I have no doubt." Eric asked, "And what is this Legend of Eric the Bronze? Why am I so despised in the city?" Kroon answered, "According to the Ancient Legend you will destroy the city. This, and other things." Eric gaped. No wonder the crowd had shown such hatred. But why were the elders so friendly? They were obviously the governing body, and if there was strife between them and the people it had not shown in the respect the crowd had accorded Nolette. Kroon said, "I see
asked. "We call him Rat," Roberds said. She didn't ask why. She said: "Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean? What is his record?" Peterson opened his mouth. "Shut up, Peterson!" the Chief snapped. "We don't talk about his record around here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell." "Stow it, Chief," said Peterson. "Miss Gray is no pantywaist." He turned to the nurse. "Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?" Patti Gray paled. "Yes," she whispered. "Was Rat in that?" Roberds shook his head. "He didn't take part in it. But Rat was attached to a very
blue leopard skin, and he wore a belt with a jeweled short sword. He drew the sword from its scabbard, and bowed forward until the point of the sword touched the street of blue fur. He said, "I give you the welcome of my sword, and the welcome of the city. Speak your name so that it may be set in the records of the dreamers." The music sang, and the spires twinkled, and Eric said, "I am Eric North!" The sword point jerked, and the sentinel straightened. His face was white. He cried aloud, "It is Eric the Bronze.
Question:
Describe the character of Ryd.
Answer:
|
[
"Ryd is a resentful and skeptical person because he has been without a job for at least ten years. His only solace comes from drinking at Burshis’ Stumble Inn, where he can pretend that no one knows him and have a nice chat with the bar owner. \n\nHe knows he was a good helio engineer, and he is fully aware that he did not deserve to have his job ripped from his hands. When the bartender suggests that he will have a new job soon, Ryd thinks to himself that anyone who wants to give him a job can screw off. He has been without one for too long to even know how to manage it. \n\nRyd is also skeptical of people around him. When Mury approaches him at the bar, he notices right away that Mury seems out of place in the way that he’s dressed. He also gives Mury an attitude when the man starts a conversation with him. He has learned not to trust many people, so he acts contrary to his natural intuition when he listens to Mury and almost immediately believes he has his best interest in mind.\n\nRyd is not a trained spy or someone who has a lot of experience with committing crimes, so he is very out of place on his mission with Mury. He is jumpy, anxious, and concerned for his safety throughout the job. He is so uncomfortable holding a weapon that he actually drops his flame pistol in a control room and nearly starts a fire. He leaves the dirty work to Mury, and he does not offer to shoot anyone or engage in combat or do anything that isn’t directly asked of him. Ryd goes along for the ride because he is afraid that Mury will kill him if he backs out of the mission, and he also realizes that Mury’s plan may be the only thing that saves men like him from becoming slaves. \n",
"Ryd is a man who lost his job a decade ago and still feels badly about it since he hasn’t been able to find a job since then. He is somewhat angry about losing his job because it wasn’t lost through any wrongdoing on his part but because he was a helio operator, and helios worked much better on Mars. He has a reputation now for asking people for loans, so when they see him, no one wants to look him in the eye for fear that he will ask for yet more money. When the owner of Burshis points out that the power cylinder from Mars will bring back jobs, Ryd acknowledges to himself that there won’t be any jobs for him; he is out of the habit of working now. Ryd has a mostly fearful outlook on life now. When Mury wants to speak with him outside the bar, Ryd is suspicious and worries that Mury might be a police officer. Ryd also feels that no one is sympathetic with him; when he did try to get another job, he was turned down because he wasn’t allied with the Poligerents. After Ryd mentions the power cylinder as the salvation of Earth, Mury lets him know that this view is based on lies because the deal is based on Earth becoming a colony of Mars. When Ryd is reluctant to help Mury, the mention of money helps sway him to help as does the thought that they will kill him now that he knows so much if he doesn’t help. At the same time, Ryd wants to help Mury to win his approval. Ryd goes along with Mury’s plans, not because he believes in the cause but because he is afraid. Ryd remains fearful and uncertain in each part of the plan as they carry it out, and he relies on Mury’s calm, cool demeanor and assurances to keep from falling apart.\n",
"Ryd Randl was a helio operator, who lost his job some time ago. He is struggling like many other people on Earth because of the black out power outages and inability to find work. His eagerness to get new work causes him to take risks, and get involved with Mury’s revolutionary plan. Ryd comes across as a law-abiding Earth citizen who is deeply uncomfortable with the crimes Mury ropes him into, but goes along with them in order to be paid.\n\n",
"Ryd is an Earthman who has been out of work for the past decade. His struggles with finding another job, making enough money to get by, and general hardships have made him somewhat bitter and static. Ryd is first introduced on cold Dynamopolis when he’s entering a pub, knowing he can’t pay for anything. He’s lucky to get his first free drink of the month, and he savors his alcohol. \nAlthough Ryd looked for a new job at first, he soon grew to resent the institution and men that had forced him out of his position. He was a helio operator, and a damn good one according to him, and enjoyed his job. Now, after being out of work for 10 years, he’d rather stick it to the man than beg for a new position. \nThroughout his adventure with Mury, Ryd falters on the occasion. He is not cowardly, but he is certainly not as experienced or as dangerous as Mury. However, since Ryd has nothing to lose--truly, no house, no job, no family--he can do whatever Mury asks him to, though he will pester him with questions along the way. \n"
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It would take hours to explain. However, I'll just sum it up in one word: politics. Politics, with which Rat had no connection saved him." The girl shook her head, more in sympathy than condemnation. "Are you expecting the others in soon?" she asked. "It wouldn't be right to leave Peterson." "They will be in, in a day or two. Peterson will beat it over to Base station for repairs, and to notify Earth we're coming. He'll be all right." Abruptly she stood up. "Goodnight gentlemen. Call me if I'm needed." Roberds nodded acknowledgement. The door to the side room
provided the answer by alighting at the lip with a jar that shook the ship. He was breathing heavily and lugging something in his arms. The burden groaned. "Gladney!" Nurse Gray exclaimed. "I got." Rat confirmed. "Yes, Gladney. Damn heavy, Gladney." "But how?" she demanded. "What of Roberds and Peterson?" "Trick," he sniggered. "I burn down my shack. Boss run out. I run in. Very simple." He packed Gladney into the remaining hammock and snapped buckles. "And Peterson?" she prompted. "Oh yes. Peterson. So sorry about Peterson. Had to fan him." " Fan him? I don't understand." "Fan. With chair.
looked into the far future. She said, "He is Eric the Bronze. I have no doubt." Eric asked, "And what is this Legend of Eric the Bronze? Why am I so despised in the city?" Kroon answered, "According to the Ancient Legend you will destroy the city. This, and other things." Eric gaped. No wonder the crowd had shown such hatred. But why were the elders so friendly? They were obviously the governing body, and if there was strife between them and the people it had not shown in the respect the crowd had accorded Nolette. Kroon said, "I see
asked. "We call him Rat," Roberds said. She didn't ask why. She said: "Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean? What is his record?" Peterson opened his mouth. "Shut up, Peterson!" the Chief snapped. "We don't talk about his record around here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell." "Stow it, Chief," said Peterson. "Miss Gray is no pantywaist." He turned to the nurse. "Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?" Patti Gray paled. "Yes," she whispered. "Was Rat in that?" Roberds shook his head. "He didn't take part in it. But Rat was attached to a very
blue leopard skin, and he wore a belt with a jeweled short sword. He drew the sword from its scabbard, and bowed forward until the point of the sword touched the street of blue fur. He said, "I give you the welcome of my sword, and the welcome of the city. Speak your name so that it may be set in the records of the dreamers." The music sang, and the spires twinkled, and Eric said, "I am Eric North!" The sword point jerked, and the sentinel straightened. His face was white. He cried aloud, "It is Eric the Bronze.
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What is the importance of the communication device in the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Growing up on Big Muddy by Charles V. De Vet.
Relevant chunks:
explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
Blade—then Garrett could not kill him and cut the beam in time to prevent one of the police from giving a cry that would echo over the sub-space beam arriving almost instantly in this room, and let the girl know that she had been tricked. And Garrett would not want that. Not that it would matter to Starrett Blade. Then Star saw what kind of a transmitter it was, and he groaned. It was not a Hineson Sub-space beamer ... it was an old-style transmitter which had different wave speeds, because of the different space-bridger units in it. The visual
moved from the spot it was transmitted. I don't know for sure. Perhaps the slight Deneb-ward movement of the Solar System would wreck a perfect three-point landing even then and cause the dispatched materials to burn up from atmospheric friction, like meteors. You will just have to take a chance on the future. That's the best I can do." Carmen inhaled deeply. "Okay. I'll risk it. Pretty long odds against any squeal on the play. How many of these things can you turn out, Professor?" "I can construct a duplicate of this device so that you may destroy the unwanted
immense value on the nature of time and space. As it is, I feel that it is a miscarriage of justice to hold me in connection with the murders I am sure Tony Carmen did commit. I hope this personal account when published will end the vicious story supported by the district attorney that it was I who sought Tony Carmen out and offered to dispose of his enemies and that I sought his financial backing for the exploitation of my invention. This is the true, and only true, account of the development of the machine known as the Expendable.
A wayfarer's return from a far country to his wife and family may be a shining experience, a kind of second honeymoon. Or it may be so shadowed by Time's relentless tyranny that the changes which have occurred in his absence can lead only to tragedy and despair. This rarely discerning, warmly human story by a brilliant newcomer to the science fantasy field is told with no pulling of punches, and its adroit unfolding will astound you. the hoofer by ... Walter M. Miller, Jr. A space rover has no business with a family. But what can a man in
Question:
What is the importance of the communication device in the story?
Answer:
|
[
"The communicator allows Kaiser to receive messages from the mothership and its team. It’s the only mechanism that connects him to other intelligent human beings. Throughout the story, these messages help him understand why he had a fever, swelling, a brief period of blankness, and why he used baby-talk. Using the communication device, the mothership’s team and scientists explain to Kaiser what kind of symbiote lives in his body and how it can gauge his emotional reactions and adapt to various environmental and mental triggers. They manage to ask Keiser to test their theory and later inform him of their findings regarding the planet's climate. They use the tape to order Kaiser to return as soon as possible and finally tell him that the symbiote is probably changing his mind and turning him into someone equal in intelligence to the seal-people. ",
"The communication device is what lets Kaiser continue communicating with the mother ship. Without it, he would not have been able to form any form of communication and try to find a solution to his problem. Although the mothership is not helpful in terms of helping him repair the scout ship, he does report to them his symptoms of illness. He gets all of his instructions from them, and they are the ones to diagnose him of having a symbiote in his body. The communication device ties Kaiser to his mission, and he would not be able to receive instructions for the next step if he did not have the communication device. At the end of the story, however, Kaiser sees the communication device as a hindrance because he has no close friends in the crew anyways. He destroys, finally setting himself free from the mothership. ",
"The communication device is the only linkage Kaiser has to his crewmates aboard the SS II, and it is the only way Kaiser is able to get verified information (i.e. about his sickness, then later, the seal-creatures). It emphasizes the distance between Kaiser and everybody else. \n\nIt builds tension in the story as communications only come after a period of delivery time. In addition, the messages that come through are often unfinished in the sense that not the full truth of information is provided. ",
"The communication device is the only form of communication that Kaiser has with his crew in the large ship. Kaiser was feeling very sick at the beginning of the story, even forgetting parts of what he did. This communication system allowed him to communicate with the ship’s doctor and understand what was going on with him. The communication also allowed Kaiser to understand the implications of his new symbiote. In the end, the communications that the crew sent Kaiser showed the negative effects of the symbiote, and how it would slowly turn Kaiser into a seal-person. "
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explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
Blade—then Garrett could not kill him and cut the beam in time to prevent one of the police from giving a cry that would echo over the sub-space beam arriving almost instantly in this room, and let the girl know that she had been tricked. And Garrett would not want that. Not that it would matter to Starrett Blade. Then Star saw what kind of a transmitter it was, and he groaned. It was not a Hineson Sub-space beamer ... it was an old-style transmitter which had different wave speeds, because of the different space-bridger units in it. The visual
moved from the spot it was transmitted. I don't know for sure. Perhaps the slight Deneb-ward movement of the Solar System would wreck a perfect three-point landing even then and cause the dispatched materials to burn up from atmospheric friction, like meteors. You will just have to take a chance on the future. That's the best I can do." Carmen inhaled deeply. "Okay. I'll risk it. Pretty long odds against any squeal on the play. How many of these things can you turn out, Professor?" "I can construct a duplicate of this device so that you may destroy the unwanted
immense value on the nature of time and space. As it is, I feel that it is a miscarriage of justice to hold me in connection with the murders I am sure Tony Carmen did commit. I hope this personal account when published will end the vicious story supported by the district attorney that it was I who sought Tony Carmen out and offered to dispose of his enemies and that I sought his financial backing for the exploitation of my invention. This is the true, and only true, account of the development of the machine known as the Expendable.
A wayfarer's return from a far country to his wife and family may be a shining experience, a kind of second honeymoon. Or it may be so shadowed by Time's relentless tyranny that the changes which have occurred in his absence can lead only to tragedy and despair. This rarely discerning, warmly human story by a brilliant newcomer to the science fantasy field is told with no pulling of punches, and its adroit unfolding will astound you. the hoofer by ... Walter M. Miller, Jr. A space rover has no business with a family. But what can a man in
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What role does the hanged human body play in the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Hanging Stranger by Philip K. Dick.
Relevant chunks:
asked. "We call him Rat," Roberds said. She didn't ask why. She said: "Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean? What is his record?" Peterson opened his mouth. "Shut up, Peterson!" the Chief snapped. "We don't talk about his record around here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell." "Stow it, Chief," said Peterson. "Miss Gray is no pantywaist." He turned to the nurse. "Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?" Patti Gray paled. "Yes," she whispered. "Was Rat in that?" Roberds shook his head. "He didn't take part in it. But Rat was attached to a very
chamber saw the bits of tissue swell into human embryos in a few seconds, and grow arms and legs and faces and extend themselves into babies. Saw them taken from the bottles and cared for, and become replicas of the man and woman controlling the ship, who, all this time were aging, until life went out of their bodies. Then the ones who had been the scar tissue disintegrated them in the coffin-like tubes and let their dust be sucked out into space—all this through millions of miles and a hundred years, compressed for the watchers into sixty seconds and
The Beast-Jewel of Mars By V. E. THIESSEN The city was strange, fantastic, beautiful. He'd never been there before, yet already he was a fabulous legend—a dire, hateful legend. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Spring 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] He lay on his stomach, a lean man in faded one piece dungarees, and an odd metallic hat, peering over the side of the canal. Behind him the little winds sifted red dust into his collar, but he could not move; he could only
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
had the power to enforce those measures. But though his job was in the service of humanity, he soon found himself the most hated man in the world. For it was his job to tell parents their children were unfit to live; he had to uproot people from their homes and send them to remote areas of the world. Now, threatened by mobs of outraged citizens, denounced and blackened by the press, Roy Walton had to make a decision: resign his post, or use his power to destroy his enemies, become a dictator in the hopes of saving humanity from
Question:
What role does the hanged human body play in the story?
Answer:
|
[
"The hanged human body is bait to lure people who escape successfully from the mind control of alien flies and draw themselves out. People who are not under mental control would try everything they can to escape from the controlled town to the nearby uncontrolled town, but when they arrive in the uncontrolled town, they will be hanged as another bait in the new town, just like what happens to Ed Loyce in the story. When Ed notices the hanged body in the park and the strangeness that nobody cares about, he tries everything to alert people and escape. Yet, he ends up being suspended by the Commissioner in the town nearby as a new bait to lure people like him. The fact that the uncontrolled person escapes from the controlled town is also why the hanged body looks like a stranger in a town because the person often comes from another town. This fact also constitutes why the body is caked with mud, and its clothes are torn and ripped because it is the consequence of a long journey from another town to where it is hanged.",
"The hanging body is an important part of the story because it is what tells Ed that something is wrong with the people around him. When Ed sees the hanging body in the middle of the town square, he tries to tell everyone around that something is wrong, but no one seems to care. At the end, Ed figures out that the body was used by the aliens to lure out the humans that they hadn’t controlled yet, which is exactly what happened to him. Also, it is insinuated that Ed was killed and hanged in another town to repeat the same cycle again. ",
"The hanged human body is supposed to be a bait for the aliens to figure out who has escaped their control. As an escaped person would not have received the announcement that there was a body being hanged, it would allow them to better capture the escaped person. The hanged human body is also implied to be another person who escaped, because Clarence Mason also sees a body that is hanging. Since both Ed Loyce and Clarence Mason had a freak chance of not being infected by the aliens, because they were not present for the so-called “announcement” of the hanged body, it also makes them targets. For Loyce, the hanged body is the start of his observation of the aliens and realization that the entire town is under control. \n",
"This body serves as bait to help the alien insects find people that are not yet under their control. The body draws Ed’s attention, and eventually, he gets taken by the aliens disguised as police officers. It helps him initially realize that something has changed the town's citizens. He soon finds out that Pikeville has been invaded by some aliens. At the end, we also learn that this hanging man was probably a citizen of some nearby town who, just like Loyce, managed to escape the alien insects and come to Pikeville to get help. These insects have invaded more than one city. They kill survivors to make them serve as baits for future survivors. "
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asked. "We call him Rat," Roberds said. She didn't ask why. She said: "Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean? What is his record?" Peterson opened his mouth. "Shut up, Peterson!" the Chief snapped. "We don't talk about his record around here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell." "Stow it, Chief," said Peterson. "Miss Gray is no pantywaist." He turned to the nurse. "Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?" Patti Gray paled. "Yes," she whispered. "Was Rat in that?" Roberds shook his head. "He didn't take part in it. But Rat was attached to a very
chamber saw the bits of tissue swell into human embryos in a few seconds, and grow arms and legs and faces and extend themselves into babies. Saw them taken from the bottles and cared for, and become replicas of the man and woman controlling the ship, who, all this time were aging, until life went out of their bodies. Then the ones who had been the scar tissue disintegrated them in the coffin-like tubes and let their dust be sucked out into space—all this through millions of miles and a hundred years, compressed for the watchers into sixty seconds and
The Beast-Jewel of Mars By V. E. THIESSEN The city was strange, fantastic, beautiful. He'd never been there before, yet already he was a fabulous legend—a dire, hateful legend. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Spring 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] He lay on his stomach, a lean man in faded one piece dungarees, and an odd metallic hat, peering over the side of the canal. Behind him the little winds sifted red dust into his collar, but he could not move; he could only
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
had the power to enforce those measures. But though his job was in the service of humanity, he soon found himself the most hated man in the world. For it was his job to tell parents their children were unfit to live; he had to uproot people from their homes and send them to remote areas of the world. Now, threatened by mobs of outraged citizens, denounced and blackened by the press, Roy Walton had to make a decision: resign his post, or use his power to destroy his enemies, become a dictator in the hopes of saving humanity from
|
What are some of the equipment used in the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Acid Bath by Bill Garson.
Relevant chunks:
HOME IS WHERE YOU LEFT IT By ADAM CHASE [Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Amazing Stories February 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] The chance of mass slaughter was their eternal nightmare. How black is the blackest treachery? Is the most callous traitor entitled to mercy? Steve pondered these questions. His decision? That at times the villain should possibly be spoken of as a hero. Only the shells of deserted mud-brick houses greeted Steve Cantwell when he reached the village. He poked around in them for a
explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
the year? We know we didn't have a full three months with our Expendable Field in operation on the new traps, but we want the payola for what we have coming. "Condescending form letter to Humane Lethal Equipment. Absolutely do not send the California penal system any chambers equipped with our patented field until legislature officially approves them. We got away with it in New Mexico, but we're older and wiser now. "Rush priority telegram to President, United States, any time in the next ten days. Thanks for citation, et cetera. Glad buddy system working out well in training battlefield
and recording devices for the machinery in the room below. Star leaped to the side of the door, and called, "Are you going to come out, or am I coming in to get you?" There was a short silence, in which Anne heard one say hoarsely, "He can't get us ... we could get him if he came in the door." "Oh, yes?" was the answer. "Do you know who that guy is? He's the one they call 'Death Star.' I'm not facing Starrett Blade in a gun fight. You can do what you like, but I'm leaving." Then he
Blade—then Garrett could not kill him and cut the beam in time to prevent one of the police from giving a cry that would echo over the sub-space beam arriving almost instantly in this room, and let the girl know that she had been tricked. And Garrett would not want that. Not that it would matter to Starrett Blade. Then Star saw what kind of a transmitter it was, and he groaned. It was not a Hineson Sub-space beamer ... it was an old-style transmitter which had different wave speeds, because of the different space-bridger units in it. The visual
Question:
What are some of the equipment used in the story?
Answer:
|
[
"Jon uses a stubray pistol that he keeps on him at all times. The space station itself is fairly equipped, with a thin turret that can fire atomic cannons. The ship that the Steel Blues arrive in is very advanced as well, and it is capable of recovering from the cannon. The Steel Blue’s build his habitat out of plastic and other material that they have in possession. When the Steel Blue’s begin Jon’s torture, they feed him a drink that he thinks is hemlock. Later, Jon also uses his little power-pack radio to send a distress signal to the SP ship. When the SP ship defeats the Steel Blues, they use a rocket tube to shoot water and then atomic fire. ",
"One equipment is the power-pack radio that Jon has. He uses it at the end of the story to send out call letters to warn the space patrol ship of the awaiting attack from the Steel-Blues. He continually sends the message as a distress signal, unable to receive a message back. \n\nAnother piece of equipment is Jon's stubray gun. Kept on him as a protective weapon, he first attempts to blast the cylinder with it. His attempt was unsuccessful as the Steel-Blue quickly apprehended it, before being returned to him. Later on in the story, Jon uses it to escape his plastic igloo prison. ",
"Jon Karyl, a starways’ Lone Watcher on an asteroid, is in a rocket when he notices the invasion of the Steel-Blues, non-terrestrial robotic creatures who try to invade the terrestrial territory. Jon Karyl also possesses a stubray pistol, which he often uses to break his way out of the prison, which the Steel-Blues make, or attack the Steel-Blues. When he flees from the Steel-Blues, he also wears a spacesuit, whose boots can control gravity pull. He takes off his spacesuit until he goes into the prison made by the Steel-Blues. Jon Karyl uses the televisors in the service station to spot the motion of Steel-Blues and the revolving turret to attack the Steel-Blues’ ship. Jon wears a chronometer on his wrist to track the time, counting the remaining days of the arrival of the space patrol ship. He uses the power-pack radio to send the message to the space patrol ship on the day of their arrival.",
"Both Jon and the Steel-blues use equipment throughout the story. First, Jon uses space boots and an oxygen dial when running from the steel-blues. The space boots allow him to control his gravitational pull, and the oxygen dial allows him to control the amount of oxygen that he is inhaling. Jon also uses a stubray pistol throughout the story to fight off the steel-blues and to escape from them. The steel-blues use black boxes to control different things. They also have smaller robots, which is what gives Jon the acid every day."
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HOME IS WHERE YOU LEFT IT By ADAM CHASE [Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Amazing Stories February 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] The chance of mass slaughter was their eternal nightmare. How black is the blackest treachery? Is the most callous traitor entitled to mercy? Steve pondered these questions. His decision? That at times the villain should possibly be spoken of as a hero. Only the shells of deserted mud-brick houses greeted Steve Cantwell when he reached the village. He poked around in them for a
explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
the year? We know we didn't have a full three months with our Expendable Field in operation on the new traps, but we want the payola for what we have coming. "Condescending form letter to Humane Lethal Equipment. Absolutely do not send the California penal system any chambers equipped with our patented field until legislature officially approves them. We got away with it in New Mexico, but we're older and wiser now. "Rush priority telegram to President, United States, any time in the next ten days. Thanks for citation, et cetera. Glad buddy system working out well in training battlefield
and recording devices for the machinery in the room below. Star leaped to the side of the door, and called, "Are you going to come out, or am I coming in to get you?" There was a short silence, in which Anne heard one say hoarsely, "He can't get us ... we could get him if he came in the door." "Oh, yes?" was the answer. "Do you know who that guy is? He's the one they call 'Death Star.' I'm not facing Starrett Blade in a gun fight. You can do what you like, but I'm leaving." Then he
Blade—then Garrett could not kill him and cut the beam in time to prevent one of the police from giving a cry that would echo over the sub-space beam arriving almost instantly in this room, and let the girl know that she had been tricked. And Garrett would not want that. Not that it would matter to Starrett Blade. Then Star saw what kind of a transmitter it was, and he groaned. It was not a Hineson Sub-space beamer ... it was an old-style transmitter which had different wave speeds, because of the different space-bridger units in it. The visual
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Who is Captain Midas and what are some of his characteristics?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Captain Midas by Alfred Coppel.
Relevant chunks:
it's not expensive. And they swear by it on Meropé." A disembodied pair of hands administered a spoonful of Grugis juice to the woman, whereupon her hair turned bright yellow, makeup bloomed on her face, her clothes grew briefer, and she burst into a fast Callistan clog. "I see from your hair that you have been a member of one of the Brotherhoods," the passenger lying next to Michael on the shelf remarked inquisitively. He was a middle-aged man, his dust-brown hair thinning on top, his small blue eyes glittering preternaturally from the lenses fitted over his eyeballs. Michael rubbed
jaw? Watch him, he's up to something." The talk of ignorant men. Shano remembered. He poked behind the pipes and angrily slapped the toggle switches on the box. The captain would only scoff. He'd never believe there was a traitor aboard who had planted an electronic signal box, giving away the ship's position. He'd never believe the babblings of an old man. He straightened up, glaring angrily. He knew. And the knowledge made him cold and furious. He watched the engine room emergency exit as it opened cautiously. A chunky man backed out, holstering a flat blaster. He turned and
begin the precarious journey back to Earth, in gliding flight. He got a few hours of sleep after sunset. When an officer shook him, he rose from the cot he had been lying on in a private room of General Forsythe, Chief of Space Operations. “It’s almost time, son,” the officer said. “Your CO wants to see you in the outside office.” Marsh went into the adjoining room and found his cadet chief awaiting him. The youth detected an unusual warmth about the severe gentleman who previously had shown only a firm, uncompromising attitude. Colonel Tregasker was past middle age,
forget that one of the prime purposes of our organization is to maintain the secrecy of our discoveries until they can be safely disclosed. We must be absolutely certain that anyone who enters this building will have joined POSAT before he leaves. What if we approached the wrong scientist? Centuries of accomplishment might be wasted if they attempted either to reveal it or to exploit it! "Do you recall the questionnaires that you answered before you were invited here? We fed the answers to this machine and, as a result, we know more about how you will react in any
waited. It was for this brief moment of command that some intuition, some instinct greater than knowledge, had prepared him. This was why he, an Earthlubber, had studied astrogation, made a hobby of the empire of the stars. That he might be fitted to command when all others failed. And now— And now the moment was past, and he was once again Gregory Malcolm, mild, lean, pale, bespectacled secretary to J. Foster Andrews. And the man at his side was Ralph Breadon, socialite and gentleman sportsman, trained pilot. And in Malcolm the habit of obedience was strong.... "Very well, sir,"
Question:
Who is Captain Midas and what are some of his characteristics?
Answer:
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[
"Captain Midas is the captain of the spaceship Martian Maid, who unknowingly takes the spaceship on its last flight in this story. He is described to be relatively young at 32 years old, but after interacting with the metal and at the end of the story, has the physical appearance of an eighty year old man with wrinkles and veiny hands. \n\nHe is a greedy man. In the beginning of the story, he honestly admits that he would do quite a few things for a few solar dollars, which we see throughout the story. In addition to his greed, he is a selfish man, as in discovering the gold he threatens Spinelli to secrecy in order to keep the highest gains for himself. It is also this greed that allows Spinelli to get away with initially aiming the gun at the derelict ship and their fellow shipmates on board in case those shipmates try to escape with the gold. \n\nThere are brief moments where he is shown to be an honorable man. For one, he fights Spinelli over blasting their fellow shipmates, and ends up killing Spinelli instead by accident. At the end of the story, he becomes terrified of the derelict ship and its devil metal, and yet still chooses to go aboard it to seek out his shipmates. \n",
"Captain Midas is a spaceman, a skipper of the Martian Maid spaceship. He is confident, experienced, and a natural leader - he can feel how the mood of his crew changes and what they are able to do. He knows how Spinelli and Zaleski can act if they find out about the gold and tries to be cautious. He is greedy - Midas gets blinded by the prospect of getting lots of money for the metal parts of the derelict and initially doesn’t notice the metal’s unique feature. Still, he values his team and finds it disgusting that Spinelli would be ready to kill his own colleagues for some gold. Midas also attempts to learn what happened to them when Spinelli gets out of control and thinks that the other members of the team betrayed him and stole his gold. He doesn’t feel normal after killing Spinelli - Midas doesn’t enjoy violence. ",
"Captain Midas is the captain of the spaceship Martian Maid. He looks bony, wrinkled, and weary. He looks eighty when he is thirty-two. He is greedy for money as he and the whole crew search every possibility in space to find treasure or things that can be traded for money. His greed also makes him not report to the interplanetary base when the crew finds the derelict. He prioritizes his lust for treasure over his duty as a captain, suspecting everyone on the ship to steal the derelict, but he also maintains his reason in the situation where the lust for treasure may surpass his duty as a captain. This can be shown when Mister Spinelli and the captain find it hard to read the message from the crewmembers on the derelict; he senses the danger while Mister Spinelli only thinks about his treasure. He is rational that all his actions have a reason, such as letting Mister Spinelli set the weapon pointing toward the derelict to ensure the rest of the crew members do not steal the treasure and flee. He has the moral that he feels guilty when he kills Mister Spinelli.",
"The captain of the Martian Maid, nicknamed Captain Midas, is the skipper of the boat. He works alongside the rest of the crew, consisting of Spinelli, Shelley, Cohn, Marvin, and Zaleski. The captain is only thirty-two, but he looks eighty by the end of the story. Physically, he is described as having gray hair, flesh hanging off of his bone like a yellow cloth, and face a mask. He is a hard-working man, willing to go to any means to earn his share of money. He is also poor, which is why he was so driven to keep the treasure ship when he found it. Captain Midas, however, is a lot more level-headed than the rest of the crew. He is aware of the dangers of being gold-hungry, which is why he keeps this finding to himself. The captain is also observant, figuring out the ship had come from beyond the stars based on his charts. However, even though he is a lot more level-headed, the captain is also susceptible to the idea of becoming insanely rich off of the golden ship. He is not against taking the ship with them and even sleeps with the gold chunk underneath his bed. Midas is also not afraid to use brute force, considering how he killed Spinelli when the other man attacked. "
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it's not expensive. And they swear by it on Meropé." A disembodied pair of hands administered a spoonful of Grugis juice to the woman, whereupon her hair turned bright yellow, makeup bloomed on her face, her clothes grew briefer, and she burst into a fast Callistan clog. "I see from your hair that you have been a member of one of the Brotherhoods," the passenger lying next to Michael on the shelf remarked inquisitively. He was a middle-aged man, his dust-brown hair thinning on top, his small blue eyes glittering preternaturally from the lenses fitted over his eyeballs. Michael rubbed
jaw? Watch him, he's up to something." The talk of ignorant men. Shano remembered. He poked behind the pipes and angrily slapped the toggle switches on the box. The captain would only scoff. He'd never believe there was a traitor aboard who had planted an electronic signal box, giving away the ship's position. He'd never believe the babblings of an old man. He straightened up, glaring angrily. He knew. And the knowledge made him cold and furious. He watched the engine room emergency exit as it opened cautiously. A chunky man backed out, holstering a flat blaster. He turned and
begin the precarious journey back to Earth, in gliding flight. He got a few hours of sleep after sunset. When an officer shook him, he rose from the cot he had been lying on in a private room of General Forsythe, Chief of Space Operations. “It’s almost time, son,” the officer said. “Your CO wants to see you in the outside office.” Marsh went into the adjoining room and found his cadet chief awaiting him. The youth detected an unusual warmth about the severe gentleman who previously had shown only a firm, uncompromising attitude. Colonel Tregasker was past middle age,
forget that one of the prime purposes of our organization is to maintain the secrecy of our discoveries until they can be safely disclosed. We must be absolutely certain that anyone who enters this building will have joined POSAT before he leaves. What if we approached the wrong scientist? Centuries of accomplishment might be wasted if they attempted either to reveal it or to exploit it! "Do you recall the questionnaires that you answered before you were invited here? We fed the answers to this machine and, as a result, we know more about how you will react in any
waited. It was for this brief moment of command that some intuition, some instinct greater than knowledge, had prepared him. This was why he, an Earthlubber, had studied astrogation, made a hobby of the empire of the stars. That he might be fitted to command when all others failed. And now— And now the moment was past, and he was once again Gregory Malcolm, mild, lean, pale, bespectacled secretary to J. Foster Andrews. And the man at his side was Ralph Breadon, socialite and gentleman sportsman, trained pilot. And in Malcolm the habit of obedience was strong.... "Very well, sir,"
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Why is it important to Jimmie for John to continue playing with the band?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Holes and John Smith by Edward W. Ludwig.
Relevant chunks:
the people there know nothing of a Lincoln or that war." Jeff looked blank. "What are they doing then?" The little man spread his hands. "What are the people doing now at Sixth and Main? Certainly not the same things they were doing the day of the fire. We're talking about a dimension, not an event. Don't you grasp the difference between the two?" "Nope. To me, 1865 means the end of the Civil War. How else can you speak of a point in time except by the events that happened then?" "Well, if you go to a place in
be pickin' up the Sheriff on the way. Okay with you?" "Fine," Sol said uneasily. The rain had stopped, but the heavy clouds seemed reluctant to leave the skies over the small town. There was a skittish breeze blowing, and Sol Becker tightened the collar of his coat around his neck as he tried to keep up with the fast-stepping Dawes. They crossed the street diagonally, and entered a two-story wooden building. Dawes took the stairs at a brisk pace, and pushed open the door on the second floor. A fat man looked up from behind a desk. "Hi, Charlie.
well go ahead and build the MGYR-8, which is precisely the thing I hired you to prevent." "It seems you have a point there, Mr. Ravenhurst." He'd hired me because things were shaky at Viking. If he lost too much more money on the McGuire experiment, he stood a good chance of losing his position as manager. If that happened some of his other managerial contracts might be canceled, too. Things like that can begin to snowball, and Ravenhurst might find himself out of the managerial business entirely. "But," I went on, "hasn't the additional wasted time already cost you
better company in a new spot. We're young yet." Jeff sighed and glanced around the crowded little restaurant. He wished he could fly away somewhere. At that moment, he met the gaze of the mustachioed man at the next table. The fellow seemed to be watching him and Ann. Something in his confident gaze made Jeff uneasy. Had they met before? Ann whispered, "So you noticed him, too. Maybe he's following us. I think I saw him on the parking lot where we left the car." Jeff shrugged his big shoulders. "If he's following us, he's nuts. We've got no
to come out of my [22] pocket because I couldn't possibly justify it from operating funds. Ravenhurst specifically told me that he doesn't want you messing around with the espionage and sabotage problem because he doesn't like your methods of operation." "And you're going to go against his orders?" "I am. Ravenhurst is sore at you personally because you showed him that Jack was responsible for the McGuire sabotage. It's an irrational dislike, and I am not going to let it interfere with my job. I'm going to protect Ravenhurst's interests to the best of my ability, and that means
Question:
Why is it important to Jimmie for John to continue playing with the band?
Answer:
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[
"Jimmie’s friend, Hammer-Head talks about the black puts of Neptune as a place that he and the rest of the band will likely go to if they do not secure a contract with The Goon. The black pits of Neptune is a place for musicians that are past their prime. \n\nThe Goon does not enjoy the band’s music and threatens to not let them play at his establishment anymore. However, The Goon likes the music when John Smith plays with the band and especially the reception of the audience when John Smith is playing with the band. The Goon says that he will give the band a contract as long as John Smith agrees to join with his Zloomph. It is important to Jimmie for John to continue playing with the band so that they can get an employment contract from The Goon. \n",
"It is important for Jimmie to continue playing with the band because the boss was not satisfied with their music before his arrival. Their contract ends this week, but it seems the boss is unlikely to continue it. After he plays his music on the bass fiddle, the boss is surprised by it. He enjoys the music. The audiences also like it. Noticing the change in the boss’ attitude towards the music, Jimmie knows that he has to persuade John to join the band in order to get a contract. Later, the boss explicitly states that there will be a contract if the bass fiddle man stays, else there won’t be any. Thus, Jimmie has to make John stay in the band. ",
"The future of the whole band depends on John. The bass man hurt his fingers and he needs replacement. John is much better that the bass men, his music is extremely unique and even the most indifferent people in the room pay attention to it. Everyone adores him playing, without him the band was never really popular. Their concerts were not payed off well, their music didn't touch people, their boss was discontented. Their contract is ending and to prolong it they need John. Jimmie cares for the future of his band and the contract a lot as they can't do any other job and unsuccessful musicians can only go to the uranium pits of Neptune, where life is short. They don't even have money for fare. ",
"It is important to Jimmie for John to continue playing because the band will be allowed to continue playing in The Space Room and get their contracts renewed with Goon-Face. He considers John to be the best bass player in the galaxy and wants him to continue so the band can continue to earn a living. Jimmie even offers John a place to stay and doesn’t mind babying him for the rest of his life if it means that the other man will continue to play the bass. His plans include breaking John’s leg, finding an Earth blonde to capture his interest, or even forging a letter from the University to tell him that his theory is valid as a means of getting the man to stay. "
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the people there know nothing of a Lincoln or that war." Jeff looked blank. "What are they doing then?" The little man spread his hands. "What are the people doing now at Sixth and Main? Certainly not the same things they were doing the day of the fire. We're talking about a dimension, not an event. Don't you grasp the difference between the two?" "Nope. To me, 1865 means the end of the Civil War. How else can you speak of a point in time except by the events that happened then?" "Well, if you go to a place in
be pickin' up the Sheriff on the way. Okay with you?" "Fine," Sol said uneasily. The rain had stopped, but the heavy clouds seemed reluctant to leave the skies over the small town. There was a skittish breeze blowing, and Sol Becker tightened the collar of his coat around his neck as he tried to keep up with the fast-stepping Dawes. They crossed the street diagonally, and entered a two-story wooden building. Dawes took the stairs at a brisk pace, and pushed open the door on the second floor. A fat man looked up from behind a desk. "Hi, Charlie.
well go ahead and build the MGYR-8, which is precisely the thing I hired you to prevent." "It seems you have a point there, Mr. Ravenhurst." He'd hired me because things were shaky at Viking. If he lost too much more money on the McGuire experiment, he stood a good chance of losing his position as manager. If that happened some of his other managerial contracts might be canceled, too. Things like that can begin to snowball, and Ravenhurst might find himself out of the managerial business entirely. "But," I went on, "hasn't the additional wasted time already cost you
better company in a new spot. We're young yet." Jeff sighed and glanced around the crowded little restaurant. He wished he could fly away somewhere. At that moment, he met the gaze of the mustachioed man at the next table. The fellow seemed to be watching him and Ann. Something in his confident gaze made Jeff uneasy. Had they met before? Ann whispered, "So you noticed him, too. Maybe he's following us. I think I saw him on the parking lot where we left the car." Jeff shrugged his big shoulders. "If he's following us, he's nuts. We've got no
to come out of my [22] pocket because I couldn't possibly justify it from operating funds. Ravenhurst specifically told me that he doesn't want you messing around with the espionage and sabotage problem because he doesn't like your methods of operation." "And you're going to go against his orders?" "I am. Ravenhurst is sore at you personally because you showed him that Jack was responsible for the McGuire sabotage. It's an irrational dislike, and I am not going to let it interfere with my job. I'm going to protect Ravenhurst's interests to the best of my ability, and that means
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What is the plot of the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Butterfly 9 by Donald Keith.
Relevant chunks:
explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
forty years ago or more. Resembled one? It was one! Unquestionably, though half-invisible and like a piece of glass immersed in water, it was a rocket ship. But the instruments on the control board could not lie. The presence of any material body within a hundred thousand miles would be revealed. But the needle on the gauge did not quiver. Nothing indicated the presence of a ship. But the evidence of his eyes was incontestable. Or was it? Doubt gripped him. Did the loneliness of all these years in space twist his mind till he was imagining the appearance of
"Get somebody—maybe even the President—on all radio and TV networks. Explain frankly about the four-centers and warn against licking any stamps. Then—" He broke off as his phone rang. Answering, he listened for a moment, then hung up and said, "But before the big announcement, get somebody checking on the security clearances at whatever plant it is where they print stamps. This's a big deal. Somebody may've been planted years ago for this operation. It shouldn't be too hard. "But there's no evidence it was a plot yet. Could be pure accident—some chemical in the stickum spoiled. Do they keep
deathly ill, but nobody dying. And doctors can't identify the poison until they have a fatality for an autopsy. People stricken in every part of the country, but the water systems are pure. How does it spread?" "In food?" "How? There must be hundreds of canneries and dairies and packing plants over the country. How could they all goof at the same time—even if it was sabotage?" "On the wind?" "But who could accurately predict every wind over the entire country—even Alaska and Hawaii—without hitting Canada or Mexico? And why wouldn't everybody get it in a given area?" Bettijean's smooth
Question:
What is the plot of the story?
Answer:
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"Jeff Elliott and his wife Ann meet a peculiar stranger, Mr. Snader, at a restaurant in the year 1957 as they are discussing Jeff’s desire to go 5 years into the past to buy a building for $2000 that would’ve changed his luck entirely. The stranger had been listening to their conversation and was seeking someone with Jeff’s credentials (color television engineer) to complete an illegal job he’d been hired for. Jeff and Ann have no idea that Mr. Snader is on such a job, but entertain his quirky conversation.\n\nMr. Snader has a friendly and persuasive personality, narrowly convincing Jeff and Ann to follow him to his time travel station and take a free trip to see if they like it. The Elliots do not perceive the situation as dangerous, and continue choosing to trust him at each step. Ultimately, the Elliots are escorted six years back in time through a time travelling process that appears like stepping through a screen, but their past is nothing like they remember. It is a different place entirely, and though they are frightened, their excitement and perhaps also their complete reliance on Mr. Snader to get them back home, causes them to keep following him even though he has become mean with them. \n\nMr. Snader takes the Elliotts to an apartment house to meet Septo Kersey and Dumont Bullen, the general manager of Continental Radioptic Combine. It’s revealed that Mr. Snader tricked the Elliots, and brought them to Mr. Bullen who had illegally sought Jeff’s services as a color engineer to profit his own interests by creating color television that did not yet exist in their time. Jeff was furious, and totally helpless.\n\nJeff and Ann were allowed to leave, because their captors were certain that they could not actually escape them. They had no idea how to leave this timeline, and had no way of finding justice being illegally present with no work permits. When Jeff and Ann stop for lunch and try to pay with the money in their pockets (which appears as illegal tender), they are approached by an officer and find out they are in a place called Costa, West Goodland, in the Continental Federation. Everyone in the interaction is deeply confused, because time travel is not understood to be possible by the public - Jeff and Ann look crazy. Both are escorted to separate jail cells in a prison.\n\nOne of Mr. Bullen's barmen, a lawyer, was sent to arrange Jeff’s release, if he was willing to cooperate and go work for Mr. Bullen. The lawyer has to explain to Jeff the concept of time travelling before he can get any cooperation, and so says that time travel is entering a different dimension, not moving along a linear timeline. Things look so different to Jeff in the past because he didn’t travel back a linear path to exactly the way things were when he experienced these things six years ago. The story ends during their discussion.\n",
"The year is 1957. Jeff and Ann sit at a restaurant and discuss Jeff’s business troubles. He is concerned that he made a bad business choice five years ago. Ann tries to reassure him that that he has plenty of time to make it all back again. Greet Snader, a foreign man with a mustache, sits nearby, and overhears their conversation. He asks if they would like to go back in time. Jeff tries to leave, but Ann insists that they listen to what he has to say. Snader hands them his card and offers them a free trial. He calls Jeff Mr. Elliot although Jeff has not given the stranger his name. This gives Jeff the slightest sense of hesitation, but Ann is eager to go with Snader.\n\nAnn and Jeff follow Snader to the station, which turns out to be a reasonably-sized home in a residential neighborhood. Inside, there are two screens hanging from the ceiling. One is labeled “Ante” while the other is labeled “Post.” Each screen shows a movie, and when Snader salutes the people that appear on one screen, the strangers wave back. Ann and Jeff are both shocked because the entire thing seems impossible. Ann and Jeff watch Snader step into one of the screens, and when they look at the other screen, he steps out. \n \nSnader tells them they are going back six years. They step into a screen and jump out a few moments later. When they walk through the same door they entered, the surroundings are different, and Jeff’s car has been replaced by a limousine. Snader drives, and they do not recognize anything around them. Snader stops the car outside of a building and tells them to follow him inside. \n\nAnn and Jeff meet Mr. Bullen. He explains that he is the general manager of Continental Radioptic Combine, and he needs Jeff, someone from the future, to make sure that he gets colored television before anyone else. Jeff refuses to work for him, but Bullen says that Jeff is there illegally without a permit or a file. Jeff and Ann call his bluff and leave, but Bullen reminds them to call Butterfly 9 if they get in trouble. The couple goes to a restaurant, and when Jeff tries to pay, the cashier says it’s counterfeit. They find out that they’re in a country called Continental Federation, and these people have never heard of the U.S. Jeff and Ann are taken to jail. One of Mr. Bullen’s henchmen shows up to talk to Jeff, and he explains that Jeff and Ann went back in time six years, but time isn’t like a movie. Events don’t stay consistent in the past because dimensions change. Technically, Snader didn’t lie, but he manipulated Jeff into believing that time traveling is something that it’s not. \n",
"\n\tJeff and Ann Elliott are having dinner in a restaurant after Jeff has learned he’ll need to start his business over again after his building is sold. They are approached by a man at the next table who has been watching and listening to them and who offers them a chance to get away. At first, they think he means a trip, but he is referring to time travel. Jeff says he wishes he could go back five years and buy the building. The man offers them time travel for free and gives Jeff his business card, identifying him as Greet Snader, Traffic Ajent for the 4-D Travel Beuro. Snader invites them to come with him and indicates they can be back in one hour. Jeff and Ann ask many questions but ultimately decide to go with Snader to see what he is about.\nHe takes them to his station, a mid-sized home in a middle-class neighborhood, and shows them a room labeled 701 with two screens, indicating that they are showing people who are time traveling right now in the fourth dimension. He waves at some of them, and they wave back at him. Snader demonstrates how the screens work, walking into one and then exiting from the other. Jeff wants to try this, and he and Ann enter. Snader says they will exit at Station 725 which is six years in the past. When they exit the screen, they are in another house; Snader escorts them to a limousine outside, explaining to Jeff that his car isn’t there because it’s in the future. Jeff and Ann notice that the street seems somehow different than it did when they arrived. \nSnader drives them across town, using a freeway where Jeff knows there was only a boulevard in the past. He accuses Snader of taking them to the future rather than the past, but Snader doesn’t respond. He pulls up in front of an apartment building and tells Jeff that he’ll learn everything upstairs when Jeff demands answers before getting out of the car. In a luxurious apartment, they are introduced to Septo Kersey, who congratulates Snader for bringing Jeff and then takes the couple to meet Mr. Bullen. Bullen confirms that Jeff understands radioptics and chromatics and then tells him that he will develop these features for his company. Angered, Jeff tells Bullen he won’t be told who he works for and that he and Ann are leaving. Bullen allows them to go but warns that they will be in serious legal trouble since they have no immigrate permit or citizen file. \nJeff and Ann walk to a restaurant at a nearby shopping center to eat, and all the food on the menu is unfamiliar. They eat a meal, but when Jeff tries to pay with his money, the clerk calls the police over because his money is no good. Jeff and Ann are locked in jail overnight until Bullen’s lawyer comes the next day to get them out.\n",
"Over dinner, Ann tells her husband Jeff (a TV color specialist) that he will be able to make a comeback after his building's lease has expired. Snader, a man at the next table who had been listening, suggested that they go back in time to get a better deal on the sale. Jeff dismisses him but the man joins them at their table, explaining that he’s from a different time and offering them a free trial time-travel trip at the “4-D Travel Beuro”, Ann asks for more details: Snader invites people who want change, but he knows more about Jeff than expected. Despite these concerns, his wife agrees to give time travel a try. They head to an average home in a good neighborhood that serves as Snader’s office, where they meet Peter Powers, a bureau agent. They enter a room labeled \"701\" with two large screens with moving pictures; the people on these screens are explained to be time travelers in the fourth dimension. This time groove can reach as early as 600AD, with convicts from Snader's time working to build the groove further back. Snader walked into one of the screens, and Jeff and Ann saw him in the other screen shortly after. Jeff is convinced this is a visual trick and wants to be shown how it works, and hesitantly steps into one of the screens. Snader leads them six years prior but tells them they can’t ask any more questions, and they get out at station 725, a room that looks identical to the one they left from. Nothing else is the same: Powers is gone, and the street outside looks different; Snader insists it’s because they have traveled through time. Ann is over her fear and feels excited, figuring that they were in the future instead of the past because of a freeway they did not recognize, but Snader doesn’t confirm anything. They explore and eventually meet an older man named Septo Kersey, who has asked for Snader to retrieve Jeff to work for him, as a sort of informant in color television technology. Kersey and Bullen (another man who works for the company) threaten the couple, saying they were illegal immigrants in this particular time stream. Jeff and Ann insist on leaving, and are given instructions of how to return if they get into trouble. It’s now Ann who’s concerned, and Jeff tries to calm her as they look for food. After they eat, they learn that their money isn’t recognized in this society; they are in the Continental Federation, not the United States, even though their languages are mutually intelligible. Jeff is convinced he’s so far in the future that the US has been forgotten, the police think he’s trying to fool them. One of Bullen’s lawyers was there for them when they woke up, and tried to explain that time is a dimension, not a series of events, so that nobody would have experienced the same history that Jeff had. "
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explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
forty years ago or more. Resembled one? It was one! Unquestionably, though half-invisible and like a piece of glass immersed in water, it was a rocket ship. But the instruments on the control board could not lie. The presence of any material body within a hundred thousand miles would be revealed. But the needle on the gauge did not quiver. Nothing indicated the presence of a ship. But the evidence of his eyes was incontestable. Or was it? Doubt gripped him. Did the loneliness of all these years in space twist his mind till he was imagining the appearance of
"Get somebody—maybe even the President—on all radio and TV networks. Explain frankly about the four-centers and warn against licking any stamps. Then—" He broke off as his phone rang. Answering, he listened for a moment, then hung up and said, "But before the big announcement, get somebody checking on the security clearances at whatever plant it is where they print stamps. This's a big deal. Somebody may've been planted years ago for this operation. It shouldn't be too hard. "But there's no evidence it was a plot yet. Could be pure accident—some chemical in the stickum spoiled. Do they keep
deathly ill, but nobody dying. And doctors can't identify the poison until they have a fatality for an autopsy. People stricken in every part of the country, but the water systems are pure. How does it spread?" "In food?" "How? There must be hundreds of canneries and dairies and packing plants over the country. How could they all goof at the same time—even if it was sabotage?" "On the wind?" "But who could accurately predict every wind over the entire country—even Alaska and Hawaii—without hitting Canada or Mexico? And why wouldn't everybody get it in a given area?" Bettijean's smooth
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Describe the difference between a tumbler and a hoofer.
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Hoofer by Walter M. Miller.
Relevant chunks:
the tumbler of liquid. Lying there helplessly, Jon was remembering an old fairy tale he'd read as a kid. Something about a fellow named Socrates who was given a cup of hemlock to drink. It was the finis for Socrates. But the old hero had been nonchalant and calm about the whole thing. With a sigh, Jon Karyl, who was curious unto death, relaxed and said, "All right, bub, you don't have to force-feed me. I'll take it like a man." The cylinder apparently understood him, for it handed him the tumbler. It even reholstered his stubray pistol. Jon brought
the adjustable eye-piece of a spacescope, was appearing in the center of the cylinder. A square, glass-like tumbler sat in the opening disclosed in the four-foot cylinder that had sprouted tentacles. It contained a yellowish liquid. One of the tentacles reached into the opening and clasped the glass. The opening closed and the cylinder, propelled by locomotor appendages, moved toward Jon. He didn't like the looks of the liquid in the tumbler. It looked like an acid of some sort. He raised to his feet. He unsheathed the stubray gun and prepared to blast the cylinder. The cylinder moved so
City comes." Eric turned his gaze to the side and saw the woman who had spoken. She was mounted upon a black horse with a jeweled bridle. She was young and her hair was long and free in the wind. She had ridden so softly across the fur street that no one had been aware of her presence. She said, "Let me touch this man. Let me feel the pulse of his heart so that I may know if he is truly the Bronze one of the Legend. Give me your hand, stranger." She leaned down and grasped his hand.
I have to have a drink!" "Heard you." "Well...?" "Well, nothing. Stall. Keep water longer." She swung a vicious boot and missed by inches. Rat grinned, and made his way aft, hand over hand. He treaded cautiously along the deck. "Do like this," he called over his shoulder. "Gravity punk too. Back and under, gravity." He waited until she joined him at the water tap. They stood there glaring idiotically at each other. She burst out laughing. "They even threw the drinking cups out!" Rat inched the handle grudgingly and she applied lips to the faucet. "Faugh!" Gray sprang back,
Greaseball forget to wash tank!" "But what makes it so hot?" She worked her mouth to dry-rinse the taste of the fuel. "Ship get hot. Water on sun side. H-m-m-m-m-m-m." "H-m-m-m-m-m-m-m what?" "Flip-flop." He could talk with his hands as well. "Hot side over like pancake." Rat hobbled over to the board and sat down. An experimental flick on a lever produced nothing. Another flick, this time followed by a quivering jar. He contemplated the panel board while fastening his belt. "H-m-m-m-m-m-m," the lower lip protruded. Gray protested. "Oh, stop humming and do something! That wa—" the word was queerly
Question:
Describe the difference between a tumbler and a hoofer.
Answer:
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[
"A tumbler and a hoofer are considered to be two types of people, as described by Hogey’s drunken ramblings. A tumbler is someone who lives in space and never interacts with gravity. As such, a tumbler is often clumsy and has limbs that flail about. In addition, a tumbler is not meant to be a family man, and should neither have a wife nor children. \n\nTherefore, a hoofer is a person who lives on Earth and is rooted to the ground by gravity, as they have never traveled to space. By contrast, they would have a family, like Marie Parker does with her son. In addition, the hoofers in this story are stable and kind, like the farmer and the bus driver, who all help Hogey when his limbs and center of gravity fail him. \n",
"A tumbler is a person who lives in space, where there is no gravity. They may fear to be in an open space as a result of staying in the outer space too long. Their legs are not used to the gravity, which makes them hard to walk properly on Earth. They can naturally equate time to position. They have bad visions because their eyes are harmed by the direct contact to the sun. Their faces are harmed by the direct exposure to the sun in the space. Sun looks brightly pain and white to them as they see it in the bottomless dark space where sun is the largest source of light. A hoofer is a person who lives on Earth where there is gravity. They are used to walk with gravity, unlike a tumbler. Sun looks red to them when it sets. Their visions are not harmed by the direct exposure to the sun, neither are their faces.",
"Hoofers are humans that have stayed on Earth all their life. They are everyday humans that live their lives without ever going to space. The bus driver, and Hogey’s wife are examples of Hoofers. Tumblers on the other hand are people that have traveled to space, and worked there. Hogey is an example of a tumbler, and is an example of all the problems that tumblers face when they go back to Earth. Tumbler’s aren’t allowed to have children, a rule that Hogey broke. Hogey also struggles a lot with Earth’s gravity, because tumblers spend a lot of time in space in which there is no gravity. ",
"A hoofer is an ordinary human who lives on Earth. They do not go to space at all, and they spend their lives on the planet. Everybody who Big Hogey meets on his way home is considered to be a hoofer because they have never been to space before. Compared to being a hoofer, a tumbler is somebody who has spent most of their time in space. People, like Big Hogey, find it difficult to adjust to gravity after having spent so much time away from Earth. The tumblers are also not meant to have a family, as fathers are not supposed to be allowed into space. The hoofers, on the other hand, can have regular families and go about their daily lives because they do not have to abide by the same requirements as the tumblers have to for their line of work. The tumblers also go on multiple space hitches, despite the promise of money. "
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the tumbler of liquid. Lying there helplessly, Jon was remembering an old fairy tale he'd read as a kid. Something about a fellow named Socrates who was given a cup of hemlock to drink. It was the finis for Socrates. But the old hero had been nonchalant and calm about the whole thing. With a sigh, Jon Karyl, who was curious unto death, relaxed and said, "All right, bub, you don't have to force-feed me. I'll take it like a man." The cylinder apparently understood him, for it handed him the tumbler. It even reholstered his stubray pistol. Jon brought
the adjustable eye-piece of a spacescope, was appearing in the center of the cylinder. A square, glass-like tumbler sat in the opening disclosed in the four-foot cylinder that had sprouted tentacles. It contained a yellowish liquid. One of the tentacles reached into the opening and clasped the glass. The opening closed and the cylinder, propelled by locomotor appendages, moved toward Jon. He didn't like the looks of the liquid in the tumbler. It looked like an acid of some sort. He raised to his feet. He unsheathed the stubray gun and prepared to blast the cylinder. The cylinder moved so
City comes." Eric turned his gaze to the side and saw the woman who had spoken. She was mounted upon a black horse with a jeweled bridle. She was young and her hair was long and free in the wind. She had ridden so softly across the fur street that no one had been aware of her presence. She said, "Let me touch this man. Let me feel the pulse of his heart so that I may know if he is truly the Bronze one of the Legend. Give me your hand, stranger." She leaned down and grasped his hand.
I have to have a drink!" "Heard you." "Well...?" "Well, nothing. Stall. Keep water longer." She swung a vicious boot and missed by inches. Rat grinned, and made his way aft, hand over hand. He treaded cautiously along the deck. "Do like this," he called over his shoulder. "Gravity punk too. Back and under, gravity." He waited until she joined him at the water tap. They stood there glaring idiotically at each other. She burst out laughing. "They even threw the drinking cups out!" Rat inched the handle grudgingly and she applied lips to the faucet. "Faugh!" Gray sprang back,
Greaseball forget to wash tank!" "But what makes it so hot?" She worked her mouth to dry-rinse the taste of the fuel. "Ship get hot. Water on sun side. H-m-m-m-m-m-m." "H-m-m-m-m-m-m-m what?" "Flip-flop." He could talk with his hands as well. "Hot side over like pancake." Rat hobbled over to the board and sat down. An experimental flick on a lever produced nothing. Another flick, this time followed by a quivering jar. He contemplated the panel board while fastening his belt. "H-m-m-m-m-m-m," the lower lip protruded. Gray protested. "Oh, stop humming and do something! That wa—" the word was queerly
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What is the plot of the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about DEATH STAR by TOM PACE.
Relevant chunks:
and didn't look at her. "You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock." "I can take it." Suddenly she smiled, wanly. "I was with the Fleet. How long will it take?" "Eight days, in that ship." Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Peterson was harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small ship meant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days in that untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl and Gladney. "Who was that ... man? The one you put out?" Gray
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
asked. "We call him Rat," Roberds said. She didn't ask why. She said: "Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean? What is his record?" Peterson opened his mouth. "Shut up, Peterson!" the Chief snapped. "We don't talk about his record around here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell." "Stow it, Chief," said Peterson. "Miss Gray is no pantywaist." He turned to the nurse. "Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?" Patti Gray paled. "Yes," she whispered. "Was Rat in that?" Roberds shook his head. "He didn't take part in it. But Rat was attached to a very
many days?" His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of those inhuman eyes. She fell face first to the floor. "I can't keep it up!" she cried. The sound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. "I cant! I cant!" A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. "Get up!" Rat stood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. "Get up!" She stared at him, dazed. He kicked her. "Get up!" The tepid water ran off her face and far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Rat was
moving things had unnerved him. He had already sounded the alert, flicked out the defense screens. Now he had nothing to do. He tried to concentrate on what the League Law would have him do. The Law was no help. Contact with planet-bound races was forbidden under any circumstances. But could a bunch of robots be called a race? The Law said nothing about robots because Earthmen had none. The building of imaginative robots was expressly forbidden. But at any rate, Steffens thought, he had made contact already. While Steffens stood by the screen, completely bewildered for the first time
Question:
What is the plot of the story?
Answer:
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[
"The story starts with Starrett (Star) Blade’s ship falling into one of the lakes on Alpha Centauri III. We then learns that Currently Star is trying to hunt Devil Garrett down, but his ship was hit by an energy-beam shot by Garrett, who is the top space pirate for years. After he fell, he hopes that Garrett himself will come here to look for him, but only one of Garrett’s men appears and he is killed by Star. He also notices a person with another gun right after he murders that man. He almost kills this person as well, but is able to stop in time due to his strong reflex skills. The reason that he stopped is because she is a girl. She has beautiful dark colored hair and eyes. But she does not stop trying to capture him. Before he can explain himself, he is knocked out. \n\nWhen Star has finally waken up, he is already in a lab chair with Garrett is right in front of him. To his surprise, Garrett calls him Garrett, instead of Star. The girl clearly believes Garrett that Star is actually Garrett. However, again, before he can explain his situation to the girl, he is knocked out. Right after he wakes up, he learns that he will be executed. Then, he starts thinking of the girl again, but he does not really understand why he is thinking of her. Before he can do anything, he is taken from his cell. Standing 5 yards away from the gun that Garrett is holding, he tries to find a way that he could escape. He is glad to see that it is a two way transmitter, but loses his hope again when he realizes that it is an old-style transmitter. Then as the visual image started to form, Garrett is ready to perform the execution. Star cunningly kicks the metal fork onto the vision transmitter, which diverts Garrett’s attention, and causes him to miss the shot. But because he is outnumbered by Garrett’s men, he is caught and knocked out again. After he wake up, the girl finds him and tells him that she is capable of reading lips. Even though the visual images has no sound, she knows what the Section Void Headquarters said, and that he is the actual Star. \n\nGarrett enters the cell after he finds out that the girl knows the real identity of him and Star. So he brings them to a room filled with machines. He imagines to have hundreds of those on Alpha III and he will be able to rule an entire world. Then suddenly the girl takes Garrett’s weapon and Star is able to kill him very quickly. And Commander Weddel, getting the signal that Star tried to send using the metal fork, gets here just on time to capture Garrett’s men. ",
"Starrett Blade’s ship has crashed into one of the deep stagnant lakes on the surface of Alpha Centauri III, struck down by a Barden energy beam fired by Devil Garrett, a space pirate. Star Blade, ejected to safety and now hiding by the lake, waits for Garrett to come for him. Meanwhile, he wonders about the source of the energy for the Barden Beam, as Garrett doesn’t have power plants on the planet, nor is there running water to generate hydroelectric power. Suddenly, Star notices one of Garrett’s soldiers and ambushes him. \nStar Blade, who has earned the nickname Death Star for his fighting prowess, dispatches his fist adversary, and soon after notices another: a beautiful, dark-haired woman. She confronts him, calling him a pirate. He dismisses this accusation, and asserts his identity, but she does not believe him. A brief fight ensues, but is quickly settled when Star is struck by another combatant.\nAs Star wakes in a cell, he is confronted by Devil Garrett’s face, Garrett’s underlings, and the dark-haired woman. Garrett, who has assumed Star Blade’s identity in order to trick the woman whom he calls Miss Hinton, announces that he will shortly execute Blade, whom he has tricked Hinton into believing is himself. \nStar is brought before a transmitter which only transmits images. As the live image of Commander Weddel, a police officer, appears on the screen, Garrett quickly throws a piece of metal at the transmitter’s dial board and disrupts the transmission. One of Garrett’s men renders Star unconscious. \nStar regains consciousness and finds Hinton in his cell. She reveals that, during the transmission, she was able to read Weddel’s lips and now believes that he is who he claims to be. She introduces herself to be Anne Hinton, daughter of a weapons manufacturer whom Garrett had secretly contacted while posing as Star. Anne tells Star that Garrett has discovered a method of electrolyzing water into its elemental constituents, which Star speculates to be a potential source of energy. \nSuddenly, Garrett enters the room and leads Anne and Star to a cavernous room at gunpoint. The room is full of vats and machinery, which Star concludes are the reaction vessels in which water is electrolyzed and the energy generated. Garrett reveals that his plan is to use his technology to construct many Barden Beams in order to take over the planet. \nStar removes an obscured weapon, and dispatches Devil Garrett. He quickly takes out two more pirates, before two more surrender. Commander Weddel appears, and Star reveals that his damaging the transmitter resulted in a distress signal being sent out.\nThe story concludes with Anna asking how soon the technology discovered by Garrett can be used to bring life to Alpha Centauri III, and her asking him if it would be a good place to honeymoon. \n",
"Starrett Blade, a fighter nicknamed \"Death Star\", has been on the hunt for Devil Garrett, the most dangerous and well-known space pirate. While flying over Alpha Centauri III, a barren and lifeless planet, Star's ship is shot down by a Barden beam, causing him to crash into a lake. Confused as to how such a powerful beam could have been shot on this planet, Star is met with one of Garrett's armed men. Star attacks the man and sees a girl, who he is perplexed by. The girl threatens him, and Star replies by explaining that he's not a pirate, but Death Star. The girl immediately attacks him, knocking him out. Star awakes in a room with the girl, some more men, and face to face with Devil Garrett. To his surprise, Garrett addresses him as the deadly pirate, and calls himself Starrett Blade. Star realizes that Garrett has attempted to swap identities with him, convincing the girl that Garrett was actually the one being captured. Garrett tells Star that he is to be executed, broadcasted to the authorities. Star is knocked out again, this time waking up in a cell and rid of all weapons except for his ace card. Two of Garrett's men enter the cell, and Star attempts to fight them both, which is successful, but his plan is cut short when Garrett steps into the room. Star is led to the execution site, where he stands by a transmitter with Garrett in front of him bearing a gun, the girl next to him. Star inspects the transmitter and realizes that there is a chance the authorities will be able to identify him as the true Star, hopeful that the girl will realize her mistake; however, he concludes that the transmitter's sound wave speed would not be fast enough for the message to come through. As Star faces execution, he flings a fork at the transmitter, damaging a unit of the machine and burning it out. This causes a distraction, and Star is attacked by Garrett's men and falls unconscious again, yet this time accompanied by the girl, who knows now of his true identity due to her ability to read lips on the transmitter. The girl reveals she is Anne Hinton, daughter of John Hinton, who manufactures space equipment. Garrett contacted John, disguising himself as Star to gain his support in crafting hundreds of power plants with Barden beams in order to gain control of the entire planet of Alpha III. Once Garrett reveals his plan, Star uses his ace card, which is a jet weapon, to kill him. Together, Anne and Star fight off Garrett's men, and Star reveals that when he flung the fork at the transmitter, it set off a signal attracting the authorities to their location. With that, Commander Weddel arrives and Garrett's men are turned over to him. Garrett's power plants are then used not for the objective to gain dangerous power, but to supply energy and life to the planet.",
"The story begins with Starrett’s Blade being destroyed and sinking in a body of water. He was able to save himself because of an emergency release that allowed him to be ejected from the air-locked doors. Star is attacked by a man but successfully kills the man with his electron knife. After he kills the man, he sees a girl that distracts him. While he is distracted, he is struck and beaten. When he wakes up after being beaten, he is standing in front of Garrett. Garrett pretends that he is actually Star, for the benefit of the girl, and pretends that Star is actually Garrett. Garret tells Star that he is going to be executed and puts Star into a prison cell.\n\nStar wakes up in his prison cell and is still concerned about what the girl thinks of him. Star fights against the two guards that come to get him from his cell. He stops fighting them when Garrett appears holding an electron knife, as Star sees that as a dangerous weapon. Star is guided towards the transmitter for his planned executive. However, Star thwarts the execution plans by throwing a metal fork at the transmitter which damages it. Again, he gets distracted because of the girl and is beaten. \n\nLater, the girl appears in his cell trying to help him. She tells him that she is Anne Hinton, the daughter of Old John Hinton. Start mentions that he is familiar with her father. Garrett finds the two trying to escape. He leads them down a long corridor and into an incredibly expansive room. Garrett tells them his plan to control the world. Star remembers that he has another weapon at his disposal and uses it to kill Garrett. Anne and Star then go on to kill some of the guards. Commander Weddel shows up to Star’s delight after the Commander received a distress signal from the transmitter. Star is excited about Garrett’s power plant as he exclaims that it will bring life to the barren Centauri planets. \n"
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and didn't look at her. "You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock." "I can take it." Suddenly she smiled, wanly. "I was with the Fleet. How long will it take?" "Eight days, in that ship." Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Peterson was harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small ship meant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days in that untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl and Gladney. "Who was that ... man? The one you put out?" Gray
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
asked. "We call him Rat," Roberds said. She didn't ask why. She said: "Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean? What is his record?" Peterson opened his mouth. "Shut up, Peterson!" the Chief snapped. "We don't talk about his record around here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell." "Stow it, Chief," said Peterson. "Miss Gray is no pantywaist." He turned to the nurse. "Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?" Patti Gray paled. "Yes," she whispered. "Was Rat in that?" Roberds shook his head. "He didn't take part in it. But Rat was attached to a very
many days?" His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of those inhuman eyes. She fell face first to the floor. "I can't keep it up!" she cried. The sound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. "I cant! I cant!" A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. "Get up!" Rat stood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. "Get up!" She stared at him, dazed. He kicked her. "Get up!" The tepid water ran off her face and far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Rat was
moving things had unnerved him. He had already sounded the alert, flicked out the defense screens. Now he had nothing to do. He tried to concentrate on what the League Law would have him do. The Law was no help. Contact with planet-bound races was forbidden under any circumstances. But could a bunch of robots be called a race? The Law said nothing about robots because Earthmen had none. The building of imaginative robots was expressly forbidden. But at any rate, Steffens thought, he had made contact already. While Steffens stood by the screen, completely bewildered for the first time
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How does Mury handle himself throughout the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Saboteur of Space by Robert Abernathy.
Relevant chunks:
and didn't look at her. "You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock." "I can take it." Suddenly she smiled, wanly. "I was with the Fleet. How long will it take?" "Eight days, in that ship." Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Peterson was harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small ship meant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days in that untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl and Gladney. "Who was that ... man? The one you put out?" Gray
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science Fiction June 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. THE VALLEY By Richard Stockham Illustrated by Ed Emsh If you can't find it countless millions of miles in space, come back to Earth. You might find it just on the other side of the fence—where the grass is always greener. The Ship dove into Earth's sea of atmosphere like a great, silver fish. Inside the ship, a man and woman stood looking down at the expanse of land that
another Steel-Blue voice said: "He is a soft-metal creature, made up of metals that melt at a very low temperature. He also contains a liquid whose makeup I cannot ascertain by ray-probe. Bring him back when the torture is done." Jon Karyl grinned a trifle wryly. What kind of torture could this be? Would it last 21 days? He glanced at the chronometer on his wrist. Jon's Steel-Blue led him out of the alien ship and halted expectantly just outside the ship's lock. Jon Karyl waited, too. He thought of the stubray pistol holstered at his hip. Shoot my way
affect you at last? Back to the torture room." "Like R-dust," Jon growled. He pressed the firing stud on the stubray gun. One of Steel-Blue's tentacles broke off and fell to the rocky sward. Steel-Blue jerked out the box he'd used once before. A tentacle danced over it. Abruptly Jon found himself standing on a pinnacle of rock. Steel-Blue had cut a swath around him 15 feet deep and five feet wide. "Back to the room," Steel-Blue commanded. Jon resheathed the stubray pistol, shrugged non-committally and leaped the trench. He walked slowly back and reentered the torture chamber. The Steel-Blues
Question:
How does Mury handle himself throughout the story?
Answer:
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[
"Mury is a tall and ugly man with a great deal of confidence. When he finds Ryd in the bar, he immediately asks him to step outside and confronts him with a proposition. He is not overly concerned about getting caught talking about rebellion, and he is resolute about his decision to try and take over the spaceship that is about to take off. \nMury immediately gains Ryd’s trust when he sympathizes with him about losing his job ten years ago. They are on the same team, angry about the way the Terrestrials have been treated since all of the jobs moved to Mars. He is forceful with Ryd, and he stares at him intensely whenever he is questioned. Mury claims to work for all the men who have been disadvantaged by the corrupt government. He coldly tells Ryd that he means nothing to Mury as an individual, and he is only interested in saving the Terrestrials from becoming the Martians’ slaves. He believes that Earth is about to become a colony of Mars, and he is willing to risk his life to see that plan foiled. \n\nMury’s tough attitude and willingness to act is demonstrated when he kills a guard by crushing his skull. He is unbothered by the incident and sees it as his only choice. Later, he pretends to be Poligerent for the City of Dynamopolis for a moment, only so that he can punch another guard in the stomach, take his firearm, and shoot him. \n\nMury is able to stay calm when Ryd loses his cool. Even when Ryd accidentally fires his weapon inside the central control panel room, Mury focuses on the mission at hand. When he finally takes control of the three men on board the Shahrazad and demands that they takeoff for Mars immediately, he is unfazed by their refusal. He snaps at the pilot and the other two workers and points his gun at them to indicate that he is dead serious about killing them if they do not comply. \n\nMury is so sure of himself that it comes as a big surprise when the pilot tells him that he must not have looked at the log for the day. The Alborak is on a diplomatic mission to Mars, and it is something that Mury overlooked. He does not realize that the ship is fully aware that the Shahrazad has been hijacked, and it’s coming right for them. \n",
"Mury conducts himself with confidence and the assurance that he is right and on the right side. When he meets Ryd in the bar, he immediately recognizes him and asks to speak with him. Mury is on a mission and believes it is one that will vindicate many Earthmen. Mury also understands Ryd, and when Ryd is reluctant to work with him, Mury offers him money which Ryd can hardly refuse after so many years of unemployment. Mury is sure that he is right and does not hesitate to use violent means to meet his ends. He believes the governments of the Earth’s nations have sold out to the Martians and that the Martians will use the Earthmen as cheap slave labor. Mury often comes across as angry and upset at the agreement the government leaders made with Mars. Mury convinces the blond astrogator of the township to help him return the ship to space. When it becomes evident there is a warship moving toward them, he maintains his calm even though he estimates the ship will reach them in twenty minutes or less. ",
"Mury takes a certain level of control over Ryd at the beginning of the story by coaxing him to leave the bar and forcing him to perform his bidding by maintaining a fear that he will have Ryd killed if he does not obey.\n\nMury is not forthcoming with his plan, preferring to play a controlling mastermind role - only telling Ryd details as they are necessary for him to know. Mury is willing to kill to accomplish his plan which he does to obtain a guards uniform to carry out his plan.\n\nMury maintains a sense of control through the whole story until the very end when he unexpectedly sees a Martian warship which clearly startles him.\n",
"Mury, which may not be his real name, is a revolutionary man. He makes himself clear at the beginning; he doesn’t care about individuals, but Earthmen as a whole. With a bony face, large nose, and expensive clothing, Mury makes an impression. He’s confident and sure of himself, until the last moment of the story when he is thwarted by the young pilot. \nWhen he picks up Ryd, he uses intimidation tactics and more to influence his decision. He killed one guard along the way up the mountain and possibly another one on the ship. He pretends to be a higher-up of society to sneak onto the ship and succeeds. He believes in Earthmen and revivifying Dynamopolis. He’s driven by halting this power deal between Dynamopolis and Mars to prevent any Earthmen from becoming nothing more than cheap labor. \n"
] |
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and didn't look at her. "You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock." "I can take it." Suddenly she smiled, wanly. "I was with the Fleet. How long will it take?" "Eight days, in that ship." Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Peterson was harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small ship meant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days in that untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl and Gladney. "Who was that ... man? The one you put out?" Gray
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science Fiction June 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. THE VALLEY By Richard Stockham Illustrated by Ed Emsh If you can't find it countless millions of miles in space, come back to Earth. You might find it just on the other side of the fence—where the grass is always greener. The Ship dove into Earth's sea of atmosphere like a great, silver fish. Inside the ship, a man and woman stood looking down at the expanse of land that
another Steel-Blue voice said: "He is a soft-metal creature, made up of metals that melt at a very low temperature. He also contains a liquid whose makeup I cannot ascertain by ray-probe. Bring him back when the torture is done." Jon Karyl grinned a trifle wryly. What kind of torture could this be? Would it last 21 days? He glanced at the chronometer on his wrist. Jon's Steel-Blue led him out of the alien ship and halted expectantly just outside the ship's lock. Jon Karyl waited, too. He thought of the stubray pistol holstered at his hip. Shoot my way
affect you at last? Back to the torture room." "Like R-dust," Jon growled. He pressed the firing stud on the stubray gun. One of Steel-Blue's tentacles broke off and fell to the rocky sward. Steel-Blue jerked out the box he'd used once before. A tentacle danced over it. Abruptly Jon found himself standing on a pinnacle of rock. Steel-Blue had cut a swath around him 15 feet deep and five feet wide. "Back to the room," Steel-Blue commanded. Jon resheathed the stubray pistol, shrugged non-committally and leaped the trench. He walked slowly back and reentered the torture chamber. The Steel-Blues
|
Who is Philip Prior, and what happens to him throughout the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Master of Life and Death by Robert Silverberg.
Relevant chunks:
A grim tale of a future in which everyone is desperate to escape reality, and a hero who wants to have his wine and drink it, too. A BOTTLE OF Old Wine By Richard O. Lewis Illustrated by KELLY FREAS Herbert Hyrel settled himself more comfortably in his easy chair, extended his short legs further toward the fireplace, and let his eyes travel cautiously in the general direction of his wife. She was in her chair as usual, her long legs curled up beneath her, the upper half of her face hidden in the bulk of her personalized, three-dimensional telovis.
hordes of colorful characters; the handsome virile hero, the compelling Helenesque heroine.... God, it was going to be great! The best thing he'd ever done! See, already there was a crowd of book lovers in front of the bookstore, staring into the window where the new Herbert Quidley was on display, trying to force its way into the jammed interior.... Cut to interior. FIRST EAGER CUSTOMER: Tell me quickly, are there any more copies of the new Herbert Quidley left? BOOK CLERK: A few. You don't know how lucky you are to get here before the first printing ran out.
rent between their world and his. "Ed!" Janet Loyce backed away nervously. "What is it? What—" Ed Loyce slammed the door behind him and came into the living room. "Pull down the shades. Quick." Janet moved toward the window. "But—" "Do as I say. Who else is here besides you?" "Nobody. Just the twins. They're upstairs in their room. What's happened? You look so strange. Why are you home?" Ed locked the front door. He prowled around the house, into the kitchen. From the drawer under the sink he slid out the big butcher knife and ran his finger along
half-turn of its body as it reached him. What was it doing? A stinger. Loyce stabbed wildly at it. It retreated, buzzing frantically. Loyce rolled and crawled toward the door. Tommy and Janet stood still as statues, faces blank. Watching without expression. Loyce stabbed again. This time the knife connected. The thing shrieked and faltered. It bounced against the wall and fluttered down. Something lapped through his mind. A wall of force, energy, an alien mind probing into him. He was suddenly paralyzed. The mind entered his own, touched against him briefly, shockingly. An utterly alien presence, settling over him—and
the dreams. The problem of where to put the line between dream and reality began to worry Bruce. He would wake up and listen and take down what Terrence was saying, and then go to sleep again with increasing expectancy. His dream took on continuity. He could return to the point where he had left it, and it was the same—allowing even for the time difference necessitated by his periods of sleep. He met people in the dreams, two girls and a man. They had names: Pietro, Marlene, Helene. Helene he had seen from the beginning, but she became more
Question:
Who is Philip Prior, and what happens to him throughout the story?
Answer:
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[
"Philip Prior is the son of Lyle Prior and Ava Leonard Prior. He was born small, a little over 5 pounds, and carries the gene for tuberculosis. Within this new society, this genetic mutation means that Philip Prior has to be euthanized and sent to Happysleep. At only two weeks old, he has been sentenced to death. His father, Lyle Prior the poet, comes to the office of Roy Walton to try and save his son’s life. Although he is unsuccessful at first, his words about what his son could become stuck with Roy and caused him to save Philip’s life. Philip Prior is incredibly significant because his life and sentencing caused Roy Walton to make the first crack in the framework, commit a felony by saving his life, and potentially sentence himself to a failed career and life. ",
"Philip Prior is the two-week-old son of the famous poet Lyle Prior and his wife, Ava. With the Equalization Laws, all children have to be examined and tested at a clinic within two weeks of birth to determine whether they are healthy enough and genetically suited to live. If they are, they are given a certificate; if not, the certificate is denied, and the child is euthanized (sent to Happysleep) that day. Philip’s test shows that he is 3f2, tubercular-prone. The child’s father goes to see Mr. Fitzmaugham and then Roy Walton to plead for an exception for his son; Prior explains that he was tubercular when he was a child but that he was subsequently cured. He also reminds Roy to think about what would have happened to his poems if such a law existed when he was born and he had been sent to Happysleep. This thought haunts Roy after Prior leaves his office, and he decides to save Philip Prior, rewriting the child’s medical records card and deleting his condition. The baby is minutes away from death when Roy takes the next step and visits the euthanasia doctor, telling him a fictitious story of a tragic mistake at a European center yesterday and implementing a new policy in effect immediately for checking each baby’s file before operating on it. The doctor calls Roy shortly afterward and exclaims that one of the babies scheduled for Happysleep that morning was, indeed, perfectly healthy and should not be euthanized. Thus, Philip Prior’s life is saved.\n\n\n",
"Philip Prioir is a two-week-old boy, the son of Lyle Prior, the poet who bursts into Roy Walton's office at the beginning of the story. The morning Lyle entered the Bureau, Philip had been committed to Happysleep. Lyle seems to think his son is in perfectly good health, but he has been labeled as potentially tubercular. This is especially shocking to Lyle because he had been tubercular when he was young, but was cured and not euthanized (because the euthanasia laws had not yet been passed). Roy Walton decides he needs to help save Philip, and goes on a secretive mission to do so. Walton changes Philip's record and then has the executioner in the clinic double-check all of the files, which prompts the executioner to think Philip is there by mistake. This lets Roy order him to send Philip back to his parents near the end of the story. ",
"Philip was born May 31, 2232 at New York General Hospital in New York weighing 5lb. 3oz. He is the two-week-old son of Ava and her husband, Melling Prize-winning poet Lyle Prior. Lyle had voted for the creation of Popeek and understood the concept of Weeding the Garden as well as the Euthansia Plan, but he hadn't expected his son would be selected for Happysleep. Therefore, when his son is selected because of a case of tuberculosis, he visits Roy Walton's office to request an audience with him. Lyle implores Roy to spare his son's life and reminds him that had the euthanasia program been around when he was a child, then his poems never would have been written for Roy to enjoy. Although Roy is empathic to Lyle's situation, he refuses to grant his request, knowing that it would cost him his job and perhaps the entire future of Popeek. However, after Lyle leaves, Roy is tortured by Lyle's argument, and he decides to grant Lyle's request. He makes his way to the Euthanasia Clinic & Files floor and accesses Philip Prior's record. After reading the denotations on the record, Roy removes the fatal symbol as well as the euthanasia recommendation from his record. Next, he visits Dr. Falbrough, whose jobs is to administer the euthanasia procedure. He tells Falbrough there is a new procedure designed to keep public opinion positive--prior to starting each procedure, the baby's file must be checked to make sure there is no mistake. In this way, he ensures baby Philip will not be killed. Roy ultimately risks his own career to save Philip's life."
] |
50441
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A grim tale of a future in which everyone is desperate to escape reality, and a hero who wants to have his wine and drink it, too. A BOTTLE OF Old Wine By Richard O. Lewis Illustrated by KELLY FREAS Herbert Hyrel settled himself more comfortably in his easy chair, extended his short legs further toward the fireplace, and let his eyes travel cautiously in the general direction of his wife. She was in her chair as usual, her long legs curled up beneath her, the upper half of her face hidden in the bulk of her personalized, three-dimensional telovis.
hordes of colorful characters; the handsome virile hero, the compelling Helenesque heroine.... God, it was going to be great! The best thing he'd ever done! See, already there was a crowd of book lovers in front of the bookstore, staring into the window where the new Herbert Quidley was on display, trying to force its way into the jammed interior.... Cut to interior. FIRST EAGER CUSTOMER: Tell me quickly, are there any more copies of the new Herbert Quidley left? BOOK CLERK: A few. You don't know how lucky you are to get here before the first printing ran out.
rent between their world and his. "Ed!" Janet Loyce backed away nervously. "What is it? What—" Ed Loyce slammed the door behind him and came into the living room. "Pull down the shades. Quick." Janet moved toward the window. "But—" "Do as I say. Who else is here besides you?" "Nobody. Just the twins. They're upstairs in their room. What's happened? You look so strange. Why are you home?" Ed locked the front door. He prowled around the house, into the kitchen. From the drawer under the sink he slid out the big butcher knife and ran his finger along
half-turn of its body as it reached him. What was it doing? A stinger. Loyce stabbed wildly at it. It retreated, buzzing frantically. Loyce rolled and crawled toward the door. Tommy and Janet stood still as statues, faces blank. Watching without expression. Loyce stabbed again. This time the knife connected. The thing shrieked and faltered. It bounced against the wall and fluttered down. Something lapped through his mind. A wall of force, energy, an alien mind probing into him. He was suddenly paralyzed. The mind entered his own, touched against him briefly, shockingly. An utterly alien presence, settling over him—and
the dreams. The problem of where to put the line between dream and reality began to worry Bruce. He would wake up and listen and take down what Terrence was saying, and then go to sleep again with increasing expectancy. His dream took on continuity. He could return to the point where he had left it, and it was the same—allowing even for the time difference necessitated by his periods of sleep. He met people in the dreams, two girls and a man. They had names: Pietro, Marlene, Helene. Helene he had seen from the beginning, but she became more
|
Describe the Setting of the story.
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Home is Where You Left It by Stephen Marlowe.
Relevant chunks:
proud of the apartment. It had all the modern conveniences, like the needle shower with the perfume dispenser, the built-in soft-drink bar in the library, the all-communications set, and the electrical massager. It was a nice, comfortable setup, an illusion of security in an ever-changing world. She lit a cigarette and chuckled. Mrs. Burger, the fat old landlady, thought she kept up the apartment by working as a buyer for one of the downtown stores. Well, maybe some day she would. But not today. And not tonight. The phone rang and she answered in a casual tone. She talked for
the means to go there.... Yet instinct told me that wasn't the answer, either. I thought of a verse by an ancient pre-atomic poet named Hoffenstein. (People had unwieldy, random combinations of letters for names in those days.) The poem went: Wherever I go, I go too, And spoil everything. That was it. The story of mankind. I turned the glowlight down and lay on the pneumo after a while, but I didn't sleep for a long, long time. Then, when I did sleep, when I had been sleeping, I heard the voice again. The low, seductive woman's voice—the startling,
willing guest. No! He couldn't afford it! No! No! NO! His lot was a cheap suit of satin! Cheap whiskey! Cheap champagne! A cheap shack by the river.... An inarticulate cry escaped his twisted lips. He clutched her roughly to him and dragged her through the door and into the moonlight, whiskey and anger lending him brutal strength. He pulled her through the deserted garden. All the others had private rooms! He pulled her to the far end, behind a clump of squatty firs. His hands clawed at her. He tried to smother her mouth with kisses. She eluded him
10:30." The following evening found Quidley on tenter-hooks. The snoll-doper mystery had acquired a new tang. He could hardly wait till the next message transfer took place. He decided to spend the evening plotting the epic novel which he intended to write someday. He set to work immediately. He plotted mentally, of course—notes were for the hacks and the other commercial non-geniuses who infested the modern literary world. Closing his eyes, he saw the whole vivid panorama of epic action and grand adventure flowing like a mighty and majestic river before his literary vision: the authentic and awe-inspiring background; the
edge, and birds as delicate as colored glass wavered down the wind. He opened the shelter door and went out. The shelter looked the same, but useless now. How did the shelter of that bleak world get into this one, where the air was warm and fragrant, where there was no cold, from that world into this one of his dreams? The girl—Helene—was standing there leaning against a tree, smoking a cigarette. He walked toward her, and stopped. In the dream it had been easy, but now he was embarrassed, in spite of the intimacy that had grown between them.
Question:
Describe the Setting of the story.
Answer:
|
[
"The story is set in the twenty-second century: the Earth government is seeking colonies in many places. One of them is on Sirius’ second planet. Steve spent his early childhood here in a human settlement in the middle of a desert, but he went to Earth to get an education. Now he got back to Oasis City, which is built at the confluence of two underground rivers and is 500 miles from his home Colony. At the beginning, Steve flies across the desert to his village: it looks abandoned. He walks from the well with water to his aunt’s house and soon finds the dying Kumaji. Later, Steve flies above the desert dunes and spots the caravan. He lands there and spends the next several days with the people walking east to Oasis City. Then Steve and Mary go to the north - to the Kumaji base. They surrender, and the Kumaji take them both to a small encampment. In a secular tent, they find Mary’s Father. When it’s dark, Mary and Steve sneak out of the tent and soon glide off across the sand on the thlot’s back. ",
"The village that Steve first visits is his childhood home. There is a strong desert heat in the area and many deserted mud-houses. All of the families draw their water from a single well, and there is also a community center too. Inside of his aunt’s house, there is a set table, a coffee pot on the stove, and the remains of last night’s partially-consumed dinner. Outside, there is only hot desert sand and haze from the heat. The colonists also have imported camels to help them as well. There are also many sandhills and a small spring with brackish but drinkable water. Many small, six-legged creatures glide across the desert. At the Kumaji encampment, there is a circular tent for the prisoners. ",
"This story is set in a desert on Sirius' second planet, where an Earth colony has taken residence. The colony's village is lined with deserted mud-brick houses, a community center, and a single well, with some of the houses damaged due to the Kumaji's raids. \n\nMost of the story takes place on the road, where the caravan journeys across the desert to reach Oasis City, 500 miles away. The Sirian desert had nothing but vast miles of dry sand and heat and the camels that the colonists brought. Occasionally, the characters in the story will come across a small spring for drinkable water. \n\nThe latter part of the story takes place in a Kumaji encampment, where the characters are imprisoned in a circular tent. ",
"The story takes place on a desert planet, which is inhabited by a native race. The planet is very arid, and it is described to have different villages and cities. The village in which Steve grew up in, has a large water well in the middle, which gets poisoned by the natives. After this, the humans are trying to reach a large city inhabited by more humans. This city is called Oasis City, and it is located between two rivers. The natives live in large camps, and ride animals called Thlots, which allows them to move quickly in the desert. \n\n"
] |
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proud of the apartment. It had all the modern conveniences, like the needle shower with the perfume dispenser, the built-in soft-drink bar in the library, the all-communications set, and the electrical massager. It was a nice, comfortable setup, an illusion of security in an ever-changing world. She lit a cigarette and chuckled. Mrs. Burger, the fat old landlady, thought she kept up the apartment by working as a buyer for one of the downtown stores. Well, maybe some day she would. But not today. And not tonight. The phone rang and she answered in a casual tone. She talked for
the means to go there.... Yet instinct told me that wasn't the answer, either. I thought of a verse by an ancient pre-atomic poet named Hoffenstein. (People had unwieldy, random combinations of letters for names in those days.) The poem went: Wherever I go, I go too, And spoil everything. That was it. The story of mankind. I turned the glowlight down and lay on the pneumo after a while, but I didn't sleep for a long, long time. Then, when I did sleep, when I had been sleeping, I heard the voice again. The low, seductive woman's voice—the startling,
willing guest. No! He couldn't afford it! No! No! NO! His lot was a cheap suit of satin! Cheap whiskey! Cheap champagne! A cheap shack by the river.... An inarticulate cry escaped his twisted lips. He clutched her roughly to him and dragged her through the door and into the moonlight, whiskey and anger lending him brutal strength. He pulled her through the deserted garden. All the others had private rooms! He pulled her to the far end, behind a clump of squatty firs. His hands clawed at her. He tried to smother her mouth with kisses. She eluded him
10:30." The following evening found Quidley on tenter-hooks. The snoll-doper mystery had acquired a new tang. He could hardly wait till the next message transfer took place. He decided to spend the evening plotting the epic novel which he intended to write someday. He set to work immediately. He plotted mentally, of course—notes were for the hacks and the other commercial non-geniuses who infested the modern literary world. Closing his eyes, he saw the whole vivid panorama of epic action and grand adventure flowing like a mighty and majestic river before his literary vision: the authentic and awe-inspiring background; the
edge, and birds as delicate as colored glass wavered down the wind. He opened the shelter door and went out. The shelter looked the same, but useless now. How did the shelter of that bleak world get into this one, where the air was warm and fragrant, where there was no cold, from that world into this one of his dreams? The girl—Helene—was standing there leaning against a tree, smoking a cigarette. He walked toward her, and stopped. In the dream it had been easy, but now he was embarrassed, in spite of the intimacy that had grown between them.
|
Describe the new world order and the Equalization Laws.
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Master of Life and Death by Robert Silverberg.
Relevant chunks:
talent for stripping away my feeble attempts at privacy. Psi-powers usually included some ability to form a mental shield; being without one, I was necessarily devoid of the other. My attitude didn't matter, though, because it was definitely war. The aliens came back with a fleet clearly bent on our annihilation—even the 'paths couldn't figure out their motives, for the thought pattern was entirely different from ours—and the war was on. I had enjoyed learning first-aid; it was the first time I had ever worked with people as an equal. And I was good at it because psi-powers aren't much
that there weren't even many accidents these days. It was a safe, orderly existence for those who fitted into it—which accounted for more than ninety-five per cent of the population. The only ones who didn't adjust were those who couldn't, like me—psi-deficients, throwbacks to an earlier era. There were no physical cripples, because anybody could have a new arm or a new leg grafted on, but you couldn't graft psi powers onto an atavism or, if you could, the technique hadn't been developed yet. "I feel a sense of impending doom brooding over this household," my youngest brother remarked cheerfully
was almost frightening: a silent picture of the beginning of civilization challenging the end of it. Then a small boy caught up with the dog and it rolled over enthusiastically at his feet and the scene was normal again. The small boy, however, seemed definitely pre-civilization. He studied the dog coldly and then inserted a thin metal tube under its eyelid and poked. The dog wagged its stumpy tail. The boy frowned, tightened his grip on the tube and jabbed hard. The dog's tail thumped the cushiony pavement and the four paws beat the air. The boy shortened his grip
our conquest of space flight when we hadn't even invented the wheel. That thought awed me—somehow they had analyzed our brains thousands of years ago and calculated what our future accomplishments would be. They had been able to predict our scientific development, but they hadn't been able to tell how our civilization would develop. They were curious, so they had left an enormously elaborate piece of bait on the Moon. The aliens were incredibly more advanced than ourselves. I couldn't help thinking, And to a rabbit in a snare, mankind must seem impossibly clever . I decided to ask the
so that our emotions are cleared for adult conditioning. And it's just the same with newborn civilizations. Why, long after atom power and the space drive were discovered, people kept having wars and revolutions. It took ages to condition them differently. Of course, you can't appreciate it this year, but Man's greatest achievement was when he learned to automatically reject all violent solutions to problems. You'll realize that when you're older." "I will not!" the Butcher countered hotly. "I'm not going to be a sissy." Hal and Joggy blinked at the unfamiliar word. "And what if we were attacked by
Question:
Describe the new world order and the Equalization Laws.
Answer:
|
[
"In the year 2232, the Earth’s population of humans had maxed out at seven billion. This huge influx of people and steady population growth caused major poverty, starvation, and trade/supply issues. For these reasons and more, the Equalization Law was implemented in order to contain humanity and limit population growth. One such rule under this new world order was the Equalization Law where all newborn babies must be presented before they are two weeks old to be examined. If they do not have any congenital defects or carry any unwanted genes, they will be allowed to live. If not, they will be committed to euthanization, otherwise known as Happysleep. As well, several thousand members of the elderly population were euthanized, as they were already on death’s doorstep. Thousands of men were sterilized in order to prevent any insufficient offspring, and those that were ill or handicapped in some way were also euthanized. \nAs for overcrowding, the Bureau of Population Equalization (Popeek) also relocates certain groups of people to more empty settings. For example, Roy Walton set up a relocation for several thousand people in Belgium to the empty areas of Patagonia. \n",
"The Equalization Laws were proposed for legislation by Mr. FitzMaugham fifty years earlier, and when it passed, he was made director of the organization in charge of administering the laws. In the new world order and under the Equalization Laws, the Bureau of Population Equalization is tasked with redistributing the population to make the population density more balanced. It also manages the population numbers by identifying children genetically predisposed to medical conditions deemed unsuited for life and euthanizes them (euphemistically called sending them to Happysleep). The Bureau also identifies other unsuitable (“substandard”) people for euthanasia, such as the very old and terminally ill. And subnormal males are sterilized to prevent them from procreating and passing on their traits. This “cleaning out” of the population is known as “Weeding the Garden” and was voted on by the population. These steps are considered necessary until more space is available for humans, either through terraforming Venus or opening the stars to mankind. Both projects are underway but not fully operational yet. \n",
"In this version of Earth in the 23rd century, the population is so large that people are moved from high-density areas to lower-density areas when possible, but more drastic measures are being put in place to control the population. Six weeks before the story starts, in the year 2232, the Bureau of Population Equalization is founded to coordinate a lot of these efforts. Another major effort of theirs is a project called Happysleep, which euthanizes children who are genetically susceptible to certain diseases. In order to get rid of tuberculosis, for instance, they are trying to kill off people with the \"TB-susceptible genetic traits\". The Equalization Law criminalizes saving the life of a potentially-tubercular child, which Walton knows when he leaves his office after his conversation with Lyle Prior. This same group also sterilizes men to the same effect. The main way that the Equalization Laws that govern these decisions work is that children have to go to a local clinic within two weeks of birth, and this is when these decisions are made. The other major way these Laws contribute to the story is that these are the Laws that Roy Walton is breaking when he decides to save Philip Prior's life.",
"In order to deal with the world's overpopulation problem, Senator FitzMaugham had fought for the establishment of the Bureau of Population Equalization, or Popeek, in order to oversee the process of balancing out overcrowded areas with parts of the world with smaller populations. For example, when Belgium's population becomes too untenable, Roy requests a report on the viability of sending a number of them to live in Patagonia, where the population density remains low. In addition to the process of equalization, the more controversial measure of euthanasia in the form of \"Happysleep\" takes place at Euthanasia Centers around the world to wipe out adults and children considered \"substandard\" because of genetic diseases, physical disabilities, mental challenges, etc. The Equalization Laws also require every newborn child to be examined at a local clinic to determine if they are suitable for a birth certificate or if they will be scheduled for Happysleep. Roughly one in ten thousand is scheduled for the euthanasia procedure. Saving Philip Prior's life would be considered a criminal act under the Equalization Laws, but Roy Walton does it anyway, swayed by Lyle's argument that if he had been euthanized as a baby because of his tuberculosis, the world would never have his poetry."
] |
50441
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talent for stripping away my feeble attempts at privacy. Psi-powers usually included some ability to form a mental shield; being without one, I was necessarily devoid of the other. My attitude didn't matter, though, because it was definitely war. The aliens came back with a fleet clearly bent on our annihilation—even the 'paths couldn't figure out their motives, for the thought pattern was entirely different from ours—and the war was on. I had enjoyed learning first-aid; it was the first time I had ever worked with people as an equal. And I was good at it because psi-powers aren't much
that there weren't even many accidents these days. It was a safe, orderly existence for those who fitted into it—which accounted for more than ninety-five per cent of the population. The only ones who didn't adjust were those who couldn't, like me—psi-deficients, throwbacks to an earlier era. There were no physical cripples, because anybody could have a new arm or a new leg grafted on, but you couldn't graft psi powers onto an atavism or, if you could, the technique hadn't been developed yet. "I feel a sense of impending doom brooding over this household," my youngest brother remarked cheerfully
was almost frightening: a silent picture of the beginning of civilization challenging the end of it. Then a small boy caught up with the dog and it rolled over enthusiastically at his feet and the scene was normal again. The small boy, however, seemed definitely pre-civilization. He studied the dog coldly and then inserted a thin metal tube under its eyelid and poked. The dog wagged its stumpy tail. The boy frowned, tightened his grip on the tube and jabbed hard. The dog's tail thumped the cushiony pavement and the four paws beat the air. The boy shortened his grip
our conquest of space flight when we hadn't even invented the wheel. That thought awed me—somehow they had analyzed our brains thousands of years ago and calculated what our future accomplishments would be. They had been able to predict our scientific development, but they hadn't been able to tell how our civilization would develop. They were curious, so they had left an enormously elaborate piece of bait on the Moon. The aliens were incredibly more advanced than ourselves. I couldn't help thinking, And to a rabbit in a snare, mankind must seem impossibly clever . I decided to ask the
so that our emotions are cleared for adult conditioning. And it's just the same with newborn civilizations. Why, long after atom power and the space drive were discovered, people kept having wars and revolutions. It took ages to condition them differently. Of course, you can't appreciate it this year, but Man's greatest achievement was when he learned to automatically reject all violent solutions to problems. You'll realize that when you're older." "I will not!" the Butcher countered hotly. "I'm not going to be a sissy." Hal and Joggy blinked at the unfamiliar word. "And what if we were attacked by
|
How does the narrator’s name affect his social life?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about I, the Unspeakable by Walter J. Sheldon.
Relevant chunks:
aunts tell me I was born there in the middle of the war." "What war?" he asked startledly, spilling some lemonade. "The World War, of course. What's the matter?" Jack Barr was staring down at the spilled lemonade and feeling a kind of terror he'd never experienced in his waking life. Nothing around him had changed. He could still feel the same hot sun on his shoulders, the same icy glass in his hand, scent the same lemon-acid odor in his nostrils. He could still hear the faint chop-chop of the waves. And yet everything had changed, gone dark and
bound to develop differently." "Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identical twins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They met by accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman. Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a fox terrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environments similar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each of them had exactly the same experiences at the same times...." For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and
a lot?" She nodded. "Fitzgerald's my favorite author." She started around the table, hesitated, suddenly grew shy. "Would you like some lemonade?" He'd noticed the dewed silver pitcher, but only now realized his thirst. Yet when she handed him a glass, he held it untasted and said awkwardly, "I haven't introduced myself. I'm Jack Barry." She stared at his outstretched right hand, slowly extended her own toward it, shook it up and down exactly once, then quickly dropped it. He chuckled and gulped some lemonade. "I'm a biology student. Been working at Wood's Hole the first part of the summer.
time travel not possible. Just like television not possible to your grandfather." Ann said, "Why invite us? We're not rich enough for expensive trips." "Invite many people," Snader said quickly. "Not expensive. You know Missing Persons lists, from police? Dozens people disappear. They go with me to other time. Many stay." "Oh, sure," Jeff said. "But how do you select the ones to invite?" "Find ones like you, Mr. Elliott. Ones who want change, escape." Jeff was slightly startled. How did this fellow know his name was Elliott? Before he could ask, Ann popped another question. "Mr. Snader, you heard
Appointment in Tomorrow BY FRITZ LEIBER Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction July 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Is it possible to have a world without moral values? Or does lack of morality become a moral value, also? The first angry rays of the sun—which, startlingly enough, still rose in the east at 24 hour intervals—pierced the lacy tops of Atlantic combers and touched thousands of sleeping Americans with unconscious fear, because of their unpleasant similarity to the rays from
Question:
How does the narrator’s name affect his social life?
Answer:
|
[
"The narrator, who was designated an unspeakably vulgar four-letter designation during the last renumbering, has been negatively affected by his new name. Because of its distracting effect on those who learn it, he is forced to resign from his job studying magnetic mechanics and assume non-productive status, which in turn hampers his ability to acquire realfood. Theoretical research which the narrator privately conducts could not be published. His designation further prevents him from participating in group games at the rec center, special interest clubs, and State Loyalty chapters. The narrator is unable to mate since, at the Eugenic Centers where mating is regulated by the State, he must submit an application which must be approved by women who are authorized to mate with him.",
"His social life is heavily affected by his name. He cannot get himself off the N/P status with his name. Firslty, he loses his job due to this name. He can still remember the day that he got his name, and the embarrasement that came with it. His boss finds his name making the company less efficient, making him resign. Secondly, he cannot find any new job. Each of the employer, hearing his name, would tell him that they will call of something comes up. But they never do. Secondly, he can hardly join group games at any of the rec centers. No special interest clubs or even State Loyalty chapters would allow him to join them; simply because of his name, he can scarcely submit any findings for publication, at least not under his name. Moreover, because he is at N/P status, he cannot even get his order because the distributer tells him to get to the end of the line. And the food packages never reachese the end. Lastly, he cannot mate, no one at the Eugenic Center would even bother to call him back after hearing his name. No woman would want to mate with him. Thus, he feels terribly lonely. ",
"The narrator's name makes it difficult for him to lead a normal life, and instead makes him very lonely. At the beginning of the story, the narrator's chief lets him go from his place of employment, because of the difficulties that his name brought to the workplace. He has trouble getting a new job, despite his impressive expertise, because of his name. This makes the narrator stuck in the Non-Productive status, which interrupts his everyday life, including on realfood day, joining games and clubs, and even being unable to publish anything with his name on it. These difficulties also apply for mating; the narrator is unable to find a partner and finds himself extremely lonely. ",
"The narrator is embarrassed by his name and upset with it due to its effect on his social life. Women and others, in general, become quite embarrassed when they hear his name. People seem to not want to associate with him due to his name. He loses his job because of his name, though the manager does not directly state that it is the reason. People do not want him to join their group games, clubs, or State Loyalty chapters and his research is unable to be submitted for publication. Because people have adverse reactions to his name, the narrator is lonely due to the lack of his social life. In addition, because of his name, the narrator is not able to mate with a woman. His inability to find a woman that will mate with him creates a longing and a desire for him to mate with a woman. "
] |
51210
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aunts tell me I was born there in the middle of the war." "What war?" he asked startledly, spilling some lemonade. "The World War, of course. What's the matter?" Jack Barr was staring down at the spilled lemonade and feeling a kind of terror he'd never experienced in his waking life. Nothing around him had changed. He could still feel the same hot sun on his shoulders, the same icy glass in his hand, scent the same lemon-acid odor in his nostrils. He could still hear the faint chop-chop of the waves. And yet everything had changed, gone dark and
bound to develop differently." "Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identical twins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They met by accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman. Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a fox terrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environments similar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each of them had exactly the same experiences at the same times...." For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and
a lot?" She nodded. "Fitzgerald's my favorite author." She started around the table, hesitated, suddenly grew shy. "Would you like some lemonade?" He'd noticed the dewed silver pitcher, but only now realized his thirst. Yet when she handed him a glass, he held it untasted and said awkwardly, "I haven't introduced myself. I'm Jack Barry." She stared at his outstretched right hand, slowly extended her own toward it, shook it up and down exactly once, then quickly dropped it. He chuckled and gulped some lemonade. "I'm a biology student. Been working at Wood's Hole the first part of the summer.
time travel not possible. Just like television not possible to your grandfather." Ann said, "Why invite us? We're not rich enough for expensive trips." "Invite many people," Snader said quickly. "Not expensive. You know Missing Persons lists, from police? Dozens people disappear. They go with me to other time. Many stay." "Oh, sure," Jeff said. "But how do you select the ones to invite?" "Find ones like you, Mr. Elliott. Ones who want change, escape." Jeff was slightly startled. How did this fellow know his name was Elliott? Before he could ask, Ann popped another question. "Mr. Snader, you heard
Appointment in Tomorrow BY FRITZ LEIBER Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction July 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Is it possible to have a world without moral values? Or does lack of morality become a moral value, also? The first angry rays of the sun—which, startlingly enough, still rose in the east at 24 hour intervals—pierced the lacy tops of Atlantic combers and touched thousands of sleeping Americans with unconscious fear, because of their unpleasant similarity to the rays from
|
What is the plot of the story?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Prime Difference by Alan Edward Nourse.
Relevant chunks:
of futile sons? What can I do to save myself from dying eight days from now? Is there escape? His eyes widened, another image came to focus. Beyond this valley of cliffs, on a low mountain lay a perfect, unscarred metal seed. A metal ship, not rusted or touched by the avalanches. The ship was deserted, whole, intact. It was the only ship of all these that had crashed that was still a unit, still usable. But it was so far away. There was no one in it to help. This ship, then, on the far mountain, was the destiny
What is POSAT? By PHYLLIS STERLING SMITH Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Of course coming events cast their shadows before, but this shadow was 400 years long! The following advertisement appeared in the July 1953 issue of several magazines: MASTERY OF ALL KNOWLEDGE CAN BE YOURS! What is the secret source of those profound principles that can solve the problems of life? Send for our FREE booklet of explanation. Do not be a
mission that huge and depressing in eight short, vanishing days? How had his people gotten into such a condition? As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown across space from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashing on this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women. When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffs from the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of the huge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upon a forge. Solar radiations drenched them.
10:30." The following evening found Quidley on tenter-hooks. The snoll-doper mystery had acquired a new tang. He could hardly wait till the next message transfer took place. He decided to spend the evening plotting the epic novel which he intended to write someday. He set to work immediately. He plotted mentally, of course—notes were for the hacks and the other commercial non-geniuses who infested the modern literary world. Closing his eyes, he saw the whole vivid panorama of epic action and grand adventure flowing like a mighty and majestic river before his literary vision: the authentic and awe-inspiring background; the
the corner he halted. The street lights had not yet come on. The street was dim. Everything was vague. He looked around—and froze. From the telephone pole in front of the police station, something large and shapeless hung. It moved a little with the wind. What the hell was it? Mason approached it warily. He wanted to get home. He was tired and hungry. He thought of his wife, his kids, a hot meal on the dinner table. But there was something about the dark bundle, something ominous and ugly. The light was bad; he couldn't tell what it was.
Question:
What is the plot of the story?
Answer:
|
[
"George Faircloth, a husband who has an eight-year marriage with Marge Faircloth, is unsatisfied with his wife as he thinks she is annoying and unbearable. He desires but cannot divorce her as the law and society are critical of the divorce. His colleague, Harry Folsom, suggests he get an illegal Ego Prime, a technology that can produce a human duplicate possessing all the human features and functions, after he becomes fed up with his wife after a fight over his new secretary. He goes to the black market, goes through all the examinations needed for the technology, and buys a Super Deluxe Prime, George Prime, to hide in his workshop in the garage. The workshop is his sanctuary that he keeps for years after a long fight with Marge, a place where Marge cannot go in. He sets up George Prime and orders it to pretend him whenever he goes out to have some extramarital affairs with women in his office. George Prime does an excellent job on that as it behaves completely identical to George Faircloth, except that it gives Marge Faircloth more pleasure than George Faircloth does. At first, George Faircloth enjoys the freedom of playing around with women and not having to worry about Marge’s hysteria. But after a while, as he realizes that Marge has been more mellow and sweet whenever he is at home, catching George Prime on the street once when it is not supposed to be outside according to his order, he starts to suspect whether his choice is correct or not. One day, he leaves his date and comes home early, seeing George Prime have sexual affairs with Marge. Gripped by the anger, he tries to recall George Prime coming back to the garage, but it doesn’t respond due to the lack of the first logical opportunity for it to return. After that, through the conversation with George Prime, he realizes that things are out of his control as he cannot decide specifically what George Prime will do. Even worse, he finds out that his money is spent through the signature of George Prime as their signatures both have legal effects, and that he cannot call the police to fix it as he couldn’t explain the situation of illegal George Prime. George Prime and Marge Faircloth leave for Bermuda with his money. Marge comes home when he feels desperate in his house and comforts him. He soon realizes that it is not Marge Faircloth but Marge Prime, his wife’s duplicate and that his wife had already found out his trick long before. In the end, George Faircloth lives happily with Marge Prime, and Marge Faircloth lives happily with George Prime. Both of them are satisfied with the duplicates as they would satisfy their needs in the marriage.",
"The main character is George Faircloth. He has been married to his wife, Marge, for eight years, and he is tired of her and their relationship. He describes her as emotional and grumpy. He also calls her jealous and brings up the story of when she fought with him because of his new female secretary. His friend Harry Folsom suggests buying an Ego Prime - an android that fully resembles the person it was built after, including the feature of speech and mannerisms. The sale of this mechanism is heavily regulated by the law - having a personal Ego Prime with open circuits is illegal, but George feels desperate. He comes to a four-storied warehouse near Broadway meets a little man, a consultant who, after a quick chat, sends him to a laboratory where they can copy George’s appearance and behavioral patterns. Two hours later, Faircloth meets his android duplicate George Prime, who later gets delivered and stored in the big closet in George's workshop - Marge never comes here. After supper, he switches on George Prime, lets him go to the house, and leaves for a date. During the following weeks George leaves at night after switching with his duplicate. He usually uses the android several days a week and puts him back in the workshop closet when he returns. Soon George realizes that his wife has become happier and calmer. George Prime claims that he was simply paying attention to her, listening - that’s why she changed. George thanks him. The next evening, Faircloth unexpectedly meets the duplicate at the liquor store and becomes angry, but George Prime says that he had to get bourbon for Marge and was in no position to refuse. Faircloth decides to stay home the next night and has a strange conversation with his wife, after which he decides to go to bed. The next night, he activates George Prime and goes to the movies alone. Once back, Faircloth sees his wife and the duplicate kiss. He walks to the workshop and pushes the recall button waiting for the android to come, but George Prime appears only at dawn. The next morning, George gets a call from the bank and learns that someone who appeared to be him has been cashing checks for the last weeks, and now his account is empty. He calls one of the city travel agencies and learns that George Prime just bought two tickets to Bermuda. Apparently, Marge has spotted the substitution and convinced the android to purchase the tickets. George comes back home, but no one is there. Suddenly his wife opens the front door, her arms full of groceries. She tells him that she figured out everything but was not planning on running away with George Prime. She sent him back to the factory. George becomes suspicious and soon understands that it is a duplicate of Marge standing in front of him - his real wife did run away. \n",
"The story follows a couple, the Faircloths. It starts out with George being tired of his marriage, and he wants to find ways to enjoy his life more. The story is narrated in first person, so we get much better insight into George’s thoughts. He describes his marriage as tiresome and draining, and says that he would have liked to divorce his wife a long time ago. He tries to flirt with different women, but his wife finds out and that just leads to more and more fighting. One day, one of his coworkers tells him about a new technology that allows him to buy a perfect robot replica of himself. George doubts buying the technology, because it is illegal, but then decides to do it. The robot he buys is a perfect replica of himself, and can be completely controlled by George. George uses the robot to stay at home with his wife while he goes out with different women. George is very happy with how his life is going, and he also starts to notice that his wife is much happier than before. Slowly, Prime George starts to defy George’s orders until one day he realizes that Prime George bought two one-way tickets to Bermuda. George gets worried that his wife ran off with the android, but then she enters the house as if nothing happened and tells George that she wasn’t going to run off with the android. When they embrace, George realizes that he was hugging an android replica of his wife, and he seems okay with that. ",
"The story introduces Goerge Faircloth, husband to Marge Faircloth. The two live together and have been in a marriage for eight years. The story is told through George who explains that he has been desperate to find a way out of their marriage. He finds Marge complaining, whining too much and picking up on every little detail he does that does not go her way. Because of the Family Solidarity Amendment of 1968, divorce was never an option for them as taxes charged on it are too high.At work, George envies his co-worker, Harry Folsom, who is equally not in the happiest relationship but is allowed to gets away with traveling away from his wife. Marge is easily jealous. George has an affair with his new secretary, Jeree, which Marge finds out about and calls George out over dinner. The next morning, Harry advises George to get an “Ego Prime,” a clone android of one’s self that looks and behaves just like the real person. This “Ego Prime,” however, seems to only be accessible to highly respected individuals with reputable titles. Harry recommends an agent from the black market to George. The agent recommends the Utility model but George wants the Super Deluxe Model. George’s measurements are taken and after the whole process, gets to meet “George Prime.” The android is delivered to George’s home along with a remote. George has manipulated Marge beforehand as to not make her check upon the garage, which is where he plans to hide George Prime. The first week George Prime was put to use, George was barely at home, hanging out with not only Jeree but also other women. When he came back home ready for work, he would turn George Prime off and get to work. As time went on, George noticed something different: Marge became softer, nicer, cooking him dinner with music he likes. George Prime tells him he has just been telling her the right things. George Prime starts getting out of control as he makes his own decisions like going to the liquor store or spending intimate time with Marge overnight. George unexpectedly starts to crave Marge and cancels on his date. As he gets a call from the bank informing him about checks that were made to his account, he realizes Marge has known his tactic all along, and has been using the android to get what she wants, a trip to Bermuda. He finds no way out as calling the police would out get him into prison because of the prime being illegal. He comes back home to Marge, who expected would already be on the trip. She tells him she knew all along and realized she never fully appreciated the real him. From hugging her and feeling the depression button under her hair, he realizes Marge has also been using a Prime. He is, however, satisfied with her prime as she seems to do and say all the right things.\n"
] |
51321
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of futile sons? What can I do to save myself from dying eight days from now? Is there escape? His eyes widened, another image came to focus. Beyond this valley of cliffs, on a low mountain lay a perfect, unscarred metal seed. A metal ship, not rusted or touched by the avalanches. The ship was deserted, whole, intact. It was the only ship of all these that had crashed that was still a unit, still usable. But it was so far away. There was no one in it to help. This ship, then, on the far mountain, was the destiny
What is POSAT? By PHYLLIS STERLING SMITH Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Of course coming events cast their shadows before, but this shadow was 400 years long! The following advertisement appeared in the July 1953 issue of several magazines: MASTERY OF ALL KNOWLEDGE CAN BE YOURS! What is the secret source of those profound principles that can solve the problems of life? Send for our FREE booklet of explanation. Do not be a
mission that huge and depressing in eight short, vanishing days? How had his people gotten into such a condition? As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown across space from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashing on this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women. When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffs from the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of the huge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upon a forge. Solar radiations drenched them.
10:30." The following evening found Quidley on tenter-hooks. The snoll-doper mystery had acquired a new tang. He could hardly wait till the next message transfer took place. He decided to spend the evening plotting the epic novel which he intended to write someday. He set to work immediately. He plotted mentally, of course—notes were for the hacks and the other commercial non-geniuses who infested the modern literary world. Closing his eyes, he saw the whole vivid panorama of epic action and grand adventure flowing like a mighty and majestic river before his literary vision: the authentic and awe-inspiring background; the
the corner he halted. The street lights had not yet come on. The street was dim. Everything was vague. He looked around—and froze. From the telephone pole in front of the police station, something large and shapeless hung. It moved a little with the wind. What the hell was it? Mason approached it warily. He wanted to get home. He was tired and hungry. He thought of his wife, his kids, a hot meal on the dinner table. But there was something about the dark bundle, something ominous and ugly. The light was bad; he couldn't tell what it was.
|
Who is the webfoot and what is his personality like?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about A City Near Centaurus by William R. Doede.
Relevant chunks:
then it flickered out as the thing collapsed in a broken heap on the rug. It was dead. He turned it over with his foot. It was an insect, a fly of some kind. Yellow T-shirt, jeans. His son Jimmy.... He closed his mind tight. It was too late to think about that. Savagely he scooped up his knife and headed toward the door. Janet and Tommy stood stone-still, neither of them moving. The car was out. He'd never get through. They'd be waiting for him. It was ten miles on foot. Ten long miles over rough ground, gulleys and
knees. Crawling, creeping through the night. His shoes were mud-caked. He was scratched and limping, utterly exhausted. But ahead of him lay Oak Grove. He took a deep breath and started down the hill. Twice he stumbled and fell, picking himself up and trudging on. His ears rang. Everything receded and wavered. But he was there. He had got out, away from Pikeville. A farmer in a field gaped at him. From a house a young woman watched in wonder. Loyce reached the road and turned onto it. Ahead of him was a gasoline station and a drive-in. A couple
that man or manlike creatures have walked the Earth. Think what a small fraction of that time is four hundred years. Is it so strange that atomic energy was discovered a little early, by this displacement in time that is so tiny after all?" "But by one man," Don argued. Crandon shrugged. "Compared with him, Don, you and I are stupid men. So are the scientists who slowly plodded down the same road he had come, stumbling first on one truth and then the succeeding one. We know that inventions and discoveries do not occur at random. Each is based
I made my decision suddenly. Waves of emotion carried me along. I got up, crossed the room to the directory, and pushbuttoned to find the location of the nearest Govpub office. I didn't know what would happen and almost didn't care. II Like most important places, the Govpub Office in Center Four was underground. I could have taken a tunnelcar more quickly, but it seemed pleasanter to travel topside. Or maybe I just wanted to put this off a bit. Think about it. Compose myself. At the entrance to the Govpub warren there was a big director cyb, a plate
swinging thread that was the beacon at Skyharbor. All planes in his path of flight had been grounded for the past few hours because of the space flight. The only ground light scanning the skies was the gigantic space beacon in Phoenix. When Marsh reached Arizona, he began spiraling downward over the state to kill the rest of his altitude and air speed. Even now the plane was a hurtling supersonic metal sliver streaking through the night skies like a comet. He topped the snow-capped summits of the towering San Francisco Peaks on the drive southward, and he recognized the
Question:
Who is the webfoot and what is his personality like?
Answer:
|
[
"The webfoot, real name Maota (also referred to as “the native” by Mr. Michaelson), is the self-proclaimed keeper of the dead city on Alpha Centaurus II. He is an older man of at least sixty or seventy years, short in stature with long gray hair to his shoulders. The toes of his webbed, bare feet drag in the sand as he walks making a trail behind him. \nMaota is sturdy in his beliefs that the dead city needs to be protected, and that the gods are being disrupted by Mr. Michaelson. He feels strongly enough about it that he resorts to physical violence on two occasions - hitting Mr. Michaelson with a book over the head, and firing a gun-like weapon at him. Although he is angry and violent with Mr. Michaelson, he also shows remarkable tolerance for him. \nMaota’s ultimate duty, he believes, is to the gods. This brings him turmoil when he thinks he missed the chance the gods gave him to kill Mr. Michaelson, and even apologized to him directly for instead letting him suffer with a head wound instead of killing him. There is a reference to them perhaps having met before when Michaelson says tauntingly to Maota, “You never told us about this old dead city… Shame on you. But never mind. I've found it now. Isn't it beautiful?” Thus, Maota is also motivated to protect the dead city at all costs, perhaps even concealing its location. \n",
"The webfoot is named Maota, and he is the guardian of the ancient dead city on Alpha Centaurus II. His people are not natives of the planet but originated from a colony from the system's fifth planet. These people are curious and sometimes highly intelligent, although they are not educated. Maota himself is an older man, perhaps sixty or seventy years old, short with long gray hair. He wears no shoes, and his toes drag in the sand as he walks. Maota is upset when he finds Michaelson trespassing in the dead city and urgently informs him that he is on sacred ground and must leave. Maota tells Michaelson that the spirits are angry that he is there and indicates the spirits might return; that is why he guards the city. When Michaelson pays no heed to the order to leave, Maota grows angry, warning Michaelson that even his steps or breath may be detrimental to the spirits and he must leave now or be killed. When his warning falls on deaf ears, Maota resorts to flattery, saying that it takes a sensitive god to feel the spirits moving in the houses and walking in the old street, thus implying that Michaelson is not only a god but one with the sensitivity required to detect the history and spirits of the place. \nHowever, when Michaelson tells Maota his plan to build a museum and display everything for others to come and see, Maota loses his temper and throws one of the ancient books at Michaelson, hitting him in the back of the head and knocking him unconscious. After Michaelson stays in the city overnight, Maota approaches him with a weapon, intent on killing him. Maota believes he has reasoned logically with Michaelson and given him enough warnings that he should have left; he isn’t interested in negotiating with Michaelson because the only satisfactory outcome is for Michaelson to leave and never come back. He is prepared to kill Michaelson with his tube gun. Maota is willing to entertain Michaelson’s last request, which is for Maota to read to him from the book. He does, but he still insists Michaelson must die. The city must be preserved for the spirits, not a show for people who may not appreciate it or the spirits. Maota’s great sensitivity and reverence for the spirits lead to his great despair when the book of poetry is destroyed. When he is unsuccessful at driving Michaelson away, he chooses the last resort—using the device that kills his human body but allows his mind to live on.\n",
"The webfooted man's name is Maota, and he is part of a group of people who live on Alpha Centaurus II, far away from the old city where Michaelson meets him. Although they make their home on Alpha Centaurus II, the webfooted people are originally from a colony on the fifth planet in the system. Michaelson wonders why Maota is so far from his people when they first meet. Maota stays in the city because he believes strongly in the presence of spirits, and he spends his days roaming the streets feeling their presence and reading an ancient book of poetry. Maota bemoans Michaelson's presence because he believes his interest in preserving the city for posterity disturbs the spirits and would potentially violate the beauty and magic of the city. Because of Michaelson's teleportation implant, Maota believes Michaelson is a god, and so he feels he must kill Michaelson if he will not leave because mortals cannot negotiate wit\nh gods. Once Michaelson convinces Maota he is just a human, Maota feels disappointed because he had hoped Michaelson would join him in his practice of thinking the ancient thoughts. As such, Maota leads Michaelson to a room where he keeps a clock-like device that he triggers. Then, Maota appears to die. In actuality, his spirit has been transferred to another dimension. When Michaelson joins him there and demonstrates how he can zoom in between dimensions using his implant, Maota starts to believe Michaelson is a devil.",
"Maota is a webfoot that lives on Alpha Centaurus II. He is older, around 60 or 70 years of age, and the lines on his face show it. He is a human with normal human features, aside from his webbed feet. He does not wear shoes but chooses to walk barefoot. With long, gray hair and relatively short stature, Maota is a weathered man. He takes his self-assigned role as keeper of the city very seriously and will act violently if need be. Maota is very spiritual, shown through his belief that tampering with the city will upset the spirits should they choose to return home. Although he is somewhat patient with Michaelson at first, he chooses his duty over Michaelson’s curiosity. He attempts to kill him twice but to no avail, which shows his true dedication to the city. In the end, when he is trapped in the so-called fourth dimension, Maota is incredibly angry when Michaelson, an alleged god with his cylinder, is able to travel between planes while he is stuck there. "
] |
50802
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then it flickered out as the thing collapsed in a broken heap on the rug. It was dead. He turned it over with his foot. It was an insect, a fly of some kind. Yellow T-shirt, jeans. His son Jimmy.... He closed his mind tight. It was too late to think about that. Savagely he scooped up his knife and headed toward the door. Janet and Tommy stood stone-still, neither of them moving. The car was out. He'd never get through. They'd be waiting for him. It was ten miles on foot. Ten long miles over rough ground, gulleys and
knees. Crawling, creeping through the night. His shoes were mud-caked. He was scratched and limping, utterly exhausted. But ahead of him lay Oak Grove. He took a deep breath and started down the hill. Twice he stumbled and fell, picking himself up and trudging on. His ears rang. Everything receded and wavered. But he was there. He had got out, away from Pikeville. A farmer in a field gaped at him. From a house a young woman watched in wonder. Loyce reached the road and turned onto it. Ahead of him was a gasoline station and a drive-in. A couple
that man or manlike creatures have walked the Earth. Think what a small fraction of that time is four hundred years. Is it so strange that atomic energy was discovered a little early, by this displacement in time that is so tiny after all?" "But by one man," Don argued. Crandon shrugged. "Compared with him, Don, you and I are stupid men. So are the scientists who slowly plodded down the same road he had come, stumbling first on one truth and then the succeeding one. We know that inventions and discoveries do not occur at random. Each is based
I made my decision suddenly. Waves of emotion carried me along. I got up, crossed the room to the directory, and pushbuttoned to find the location of the nearest Govpub office. I didn't know what would happen and almost didn't care. II Like most important places, the Govpub Office in Center Four was underground. I could have taken a tunnelcar more quickly, but it seemed pleasanter to travel topside. Or maybe I just wanted to put this off a bit. Think about it. Compose myself. At the entrance to the Govpub warren there was a big director cyb, a plate
swinging thread that was the beacon at Skyharbor. All planes in his path of flight had been grounded for the past few hours because of the space flight. The only ground light scanning the skies was the gigantic space beacon in Phoenix. When Marsh reached Arizona, he began spiraling downward over the state to kill the rest of his altitude and air speed. Even now the plane was a hurtling supersonic metal sliver streaking through the night skies like a comet. He topped the snow-capped summits of the towering San Francisco Peaks on the drive southward, and he recognized the
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What is the setting of the story
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Snare by Richard Rein Smith.
Relevant chunks:
aunts tell me I was born there in the middle of the war." "What war?" he asked startledly, spilling some lemonade. "The World War, of course. What's the matter?" Jack Barr was staring down at the spilled lemonade and feeling a kind of terror he'd never experienced in his waking life. Nothing around him had changed. He could still feel the same hot sun on his shoulders, the same icy glass in his hand, scent the same lemon-acid odor in his nostrils. He could still hear the faint chop-chop of the waves. And yet everything had changed, gone dark and
"Well," he said, "before you kill me, tell me about the book." He held it up for Maota to see. "What about the book?" "What kind of book is it?" "What does Mr. Earthgod mean, what kind of book? You have seen it. It is like any other book, except for the material and the fact that it talks." "No, no. I mean, what's in it?" "Poetry." "Poetry? For God's sake, why poetry? Why not mathematics or history? Why not tell how to make the metal of the book itself? Now there is a subject worthy of a book." Maota
the people there know nothing of a Lincoln or that war." Jeff looked blank. "What are they doing then?" The little man spread his hands. "What are the people doing now at Sixth and Main? Certainly not the same things they were doing the day of the fire. We're talking about a dimension, not an event. Don't you grasp the difference between the two?" "Nope. To me, 1865 means the end of the Civil War. How else can you speak of a point in time except by the events that happened then?" "Well, if you go to a place in
events of the day before dropping off to sleep. The troublesome Sally. The strange dream world of Armagon. The visit to the barber shop. The removal of Brundage's body. The conversations with the townspeople. Dawes' suspicious attitude ... Then sleep came. He was flanked by marble pillars, thrusting towards a high-domed ceiling. The room stretched long and wide before him, the walls bedecked in stunning purple draperies. He whirled at the sound of footsteps, echoing stridently on the stone floor. Someone was running towards him. It was Sally, pigtails streaming out behind her, the small body wearing a flowing white
except rain?" His attention returned to the matter at hand. Why the baby talk? And why was his memory so hazy? How long had he been here? What had he been doing during that time? Listlessly he reached for the towel at his elbow and wiped the moisture from his face and bare shoulders. The air conditioning had gone out when the scout ship cracked up. He'd have to repair the scout or he was stuck here for good. He remembered now that he had gone over the job very carefully and thoroughly, and had found it too big to
Question:
What is the setting of the story
Answer:
|
[
"The story begins on the surface of the Moon. The group revels in its beauty and the clear, star filled sky. They soon enter into the alien spaceship. The opening chamber's walls are filled with drawings and instruments. There are \"Kaleidoscopic\" lights that flash on and off. A small door opens to reveal a narrow passageway. The passageway is lined with eight doors, with no way to open them. Kane and Marie are pulled by some invisible forces into the first two rooms. Ed and Verana first enter into the \"kitchen\". It's a large room with shelves running along its walls, full of multicoloured containers and bottles. There is a table and four backless chairs in the centre, and the floor is a shiny green. There are drawings of a naked man and woman eating from the contents of the boxes. The second room is dedicated to recreation. There are numerous containers filled with alien games and books. There are more simple drawings to use as instructions to go along with them. They enter the sleeping quarters next, where the floors are squishy and the lights are ambient and relaxing. They go into a bathroom, with a large bath, alien toilets and soap. They finally enter an observatory. On one side is floor to ceiling see through, and the room is furnished with comfortable chairs. ",
"The beginning of the story takes place on the Moon's surface, described as a sea of dust and a calm, vast plain. The characters then find a strange object on the Moon, a tall, curved piece of metal. The rest of the story takes place inside this object; first, they find themselves in a strange, small room with walls covered in foreign drawings and lights. Then, they are in a long corridor, where the doors are within the walls without handles. The doors in the corridor open on their own, revealing several different rooms, including a room with colorful boxes of food, a recreational room with games and books, a room with a bathing pool, sleeping quarters, and an observatory with transparent ceilings and walls. The rooms are somewhat recognizable, yet unfamiliar and foreign to the humans.",
"The story is initially set on the Moon. The area where Ed and his crew explore consists of a smooth layer of pumice that stretches extremely far. There are also occasional rock islands that go off into the stars above. The Mare Serenitatis also covers three hundred and forty thousand square miles. Lunar City is also on the Moon, and humans have been living there for over a year already. \n\nThe spaceship they board later has a long corridor with multiple rooms. There is a kitchen for food. It is lined with shelves that contain thousands of colored boxes and bottles. The green floor is plastic-like, and at the center, there is a table with four chairs. The chairs have no back and are supported by a single column. As a tutorial, there are drawings on the wall of a man and woman going through the steps of eating. Apart from the food room, there is also a recreation room that has games. All of the instructions are in drawings. The ship also has two sleeping quarters with floors that have a spongy substance and dimly-lit lights. One of the other rooms is similar to a bathroom, with a small bathing pool and running water. Other amenities include yellow soap and a waste-disposal unit. The last room they go to is an observatory. It features transparent walls, a transparent ceiling, and stars that shine outside. There are also comfortable chairs to sit in and observe the stars. \n\n",
"The story begins on the surface of the Moon, in a smooth desert made of pumice, under cold and faint stars. In the middle of the desert there is a huge alien sphere. Then the setting moves into the room inside the sphere with weird drawings and gadgets. A narrow corridor opens from there, even there the walls seem alien. The doors in the corridor keep opening and closing by themselves behind people. Ed and Verana find themselves in a large room with a table with chairs and food on the shelves. There are also simple drawings on the walls looking like instructions. The next room is a recreation room with games and books, then there are sleeping quarters, a small pool and the last one is an observatory with a transparent wall. Then the characters move throughout the ship and the rooms described. Eventually, the women go to sleep and the men are talking in the kitchen. Then they go to the dormitories. In the morning everyone is in the kitchen, the rest three bound to chairs by Kane. Some events take place in the kitchen and the ship heads back. "
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49901
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aunts tell me I was born there in the middle of the war." "What war?" he asked startledly, spilling some lemonade. "The World War, of course. What's the matter?" Jack Barr was staring down at the spilled lemonade and feeling a kind of terror he'd never experienced in his waking life. Nothing around him had changed. He could still feel the same hot sun on his shoulders, the same icy glass in his hand, scent the same lemon-acid odor in his nostrils. He could still hear the faint chop-chop of the waves. And yet everything had changed, gone dark and
"Well," he said, "before you kill me, tell me about the book." He held it up for Maota to see. "What about the book?" "What kind of book is it?" "What does Mr. Earthgod mean, what kind of book? You have seen it. It is like any other book, except for the material and the fact that it talks." "No, no. I mean, what's in it?" "Poetry." "Poetry? For God's sake, why poetry? Why not mathematics or history? Why not tell how to make the metal of the book itself? Now there is a subject worthy of a book." Maota
the people there know nothing of a Lincoln or that war." Jeff looked blank. "What are they doing then?" The little man spread his hands. "What are the people doing now at Sixth and Main? Certainly not the same things they were doing the day of the fire. We're talking about a dimension, not an event. Don't you grasp the difference between the two?" "Nope. To me, 1865 means the end of the Civil War. How else can you speak of a point in time except by the events that happened then?" "Well, if you go to a place in
events of the day before dropping off to sleep. The troublesome Sally. The strange dream world of Armagon. The visit to the barber shop. The removal of Brundage's body. The conversations with the townspeople. Dawes' suspicious attitude ... Then sleep came. He was flanked by marble pillars, thrusting towards a high-domed ceiling. The room stretched long and wide before him, the walls bedecked in stunning purple draperies. He whirled at the sound of footsteps, echoing stridently on the stone floor. Someone was running towards him. It was Sally, pigtails streaming out behind her, the small body wearing a flowing white
except rain?" His attention returned to the matter at hand. Why the baby talk? And why was his memory so hazy? How long had he been here? What had he been doing during that time? Listlessly he reached for the towel at his elbow and wiped the moisture from his face and bare shoulders. The air conditioning had gone out when the scout ship cracked up. He'd have to repair the scout or he was stuck here for good. He remembered now that he had gone over the job very carefully and thoroughly, and had found it too big to
|
What is the significance of the “Prime” technology?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Prime Difference by Alan Edward Nourse.
Relevant chunks:
forget that one of the prime purposes of our organization is to maintain the secrecy of our discoveries until they can be safely disclosed. We must be absolutely certain that anyone who enters this building will have joined POSAT before he leaves. What if we approached the wrong scientist? Centuries of accomplishment might be wasted if they attempted either to reveal it or to exploit it! "Do you recall the questionnaires that you answered before you were invited here? We fed the answers to this machine and, as a result, we know more about how you will react in any
What is POSAT? By PHYLLIS STERLING SMITH Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Of course coming events cast their shadows before, but this shadow was 400 years long! The following advertisement appeared in the July 1953 issue of several magazines: MASTERY OF ALL KNOWLEDGE CAN BE YOURS! What is the secret source of those profound principles that can solve the problems of life? Send for our FREE booklet of explanation. Do not be a
a part could be consummated. One of those old ventures had succeeded, he thought, and was awed by the daring of that thousand-year odyssey. The realization left him more alarmed than before—for what technical marvels might not an isolated group of such dogged specialists have developed during a millennium of application? Such a weapon as had brought down the helihopper and scouter was patently beyond reach of his own latter-day technology. Perhaps, he thought, its possession explained the presence of these people here in the first stronghold of the Hymenops; perhaps they had even fought and defeated the Bees on
the most powerful emanations known, were the only radiation in space that could not be protected against. But in small doses they had been found not to be dangerous. “As soon as our recorders get more of the figures your telemeter is giving us,” the operations chief said, “you can leave the rocket.” When Marsh got the O.K. a few minutes later, he eagerly unstrapped the belts around his body. He could hardly contain his excitement at being the first person to view the globe of Earth from space. As he struggled to his feet, the lightness of zero gravity
was an understatement. For the Grannies, though possessed of certain low intelligence, had quickly proven themselves a deadly, unyielding and implacable foe. Worse yet, they were an enemy almost indestructible! No man had ever yet brought to Earth laboratories the carcass of a Grannie; science was completely baffled in its endeavors to explain the composition of Graniteback physiology—but it was known, from bitter experience, that the carapace or exoskeleton of the Grannies was formed of something harder than steel, diamond, or battleplate! This flesh could be penetrated by no weapon known to man; neither by steel nor flame, by electronic
Question:
What is the significance of the “Prime” technology?
Answer:
|
[
"The Ego Prime is a technology that produces a robotic duplicate of a person. This duplicate is based on a neuro-pantograph with a humanlike body and soul. The duplicate is identical to a real person, including the habits, thought processes, physiological functions, or even the handwritten legal signature that one person may have. The only difference between the real person and one’s duplicate is that the duplicate has a finger-depression button hidden underneath the hair above the ear. Throughout the story, George, a husband who has been tired of his wife, buys a George Prime, the duplicate of himself, to deal with his wife and have sexual affairs with other women around his office. However, he finds out that George Prime leaves with her wife, and his wife, Marge Faircloth, sends her duplicate Marge Prime to accompany her, just as he did to her. The exchange of their duplicates to escape from the unsatisfying marriage contributes to most of the story. Prime technology plays a significant role as duplicates can satisfy human needs better than a natural person. Due to this characteristic of being able to meet one’s demand by their logical inferences and inability to feel annoyed, the duplicates of both sides become the ideal mates for each person, both George and Marge, ending the story with both of them living with the Primes. Without Prime Technology, the story would not have developed.",
"The Prime technology allows George to spend evenings with his other romantic partners without maddening or upsetting his wife. He leaves his duplicate created with the Prime technology with her while spending his nights in other places. She is not supposed to notice the substitution, but eventually, George realizes that she did. She uses this knowledge to convince George Prime to buy two tickets to Bermuda. Apparently, she enjoys George Prime’s company and feels happier with him than with her real husband. George, too, enjoys spending time with the duplicate of his wife at the end of the story, claiming that this android is a dream in comparison to all the other women he knows. The Prime technology practically ends the relationship between George and Marge but allows them to get better partners. ",
"The prime technology is one of the most important parts of the story. It allows George to get a break from a draining marriage. The technology allows people to make android replicas that can be completely controlled by their owners, and that is completely the same as the owner. George uses this technology to make a copy of himself that keeps his wife busy and happy. While the android is with his wife, he takes advantage to meet with many different women that he couldn’t have met before. Slowly, the android starts to stretch George’s commands, and George realizes that he has to turn the android off. Before he can do this, the android runs off with his wife. George realizes that his wife also had a prime replica. ",
"The “Prime” is a technology that allows an individual to create an android clone of themselves that looks and behaves like them. This can be used for many intentions, in this story’s case, to get some time off a marriage that no longer brings joy to the parties involved. The technology is said to have been started by Hunyadi who invented the “Neuro-pantograph.” Larger technology enterprises then bought the model to modify and improve it further. The “Ego Prime” by “Ego Prime, Inc.” became so popular that the wives all over the country caught up with what the technology was and what its purpose was for. That is when black markets for the same technology started, which is where George gets his Prime. The Primes have different levels of model specificity ranging from the Utility model to the Super Deluxe model, which is the one George requests. The individual has to go through measurements and be under NP microprobes to create their Prime. The Prime produced has remote controls and has neurological pathways that are identical to its owner ingrained in them, allowing them to behave like the owner. All physicialities are identical except for finger-depression above the Prime’s ear which if clicked, would end the android.\n"
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forget that one of the prime purposes of our organization is to maintain the secrecy of our discoveries until they can be safely disclosed. We must be absolutely certain that anyone who enters this building will have joined POSAT before he leaves. What if we approached the wrong scientist? Centuries of accomplishment might be wasted if they attempted either to reveal it or to exploit it! "Do you recall the questionnaires that you answered before you were invited here? We fed the answers to this machine and, as a result, we know more about how you will react in any
What is POSAT? By PHYLLIS STERLING SMITH Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Of course coming events cast their shadows before, but this shadow was 400 years long! The following advertisement appeared in the July 1953 issue of several magazines: MASTERY OF ALL KNOWLEDGE CAN BE YOURS! What is the secret source of those profound principles that can solve the problems of life? Send for our FREE booklet of explanation. Do not be a
a part could be consummated. One of those old ventures had succeeded, he thought, and was awed by the daring of that thousand-year odyssey. The realization left him more alarmed than before—for what technical marvels might not an isolated group of such dogged specialists have developed during a millennium of application? Such a weapon as had brought down the helihopper and scouter was patently beyond reach of his own latter-day technology. Perhaps, he thought, its possession explained the presence of these people here in the first stronghold of the Hymenops; perhaps they had even fought and defeated the Bees on
the most powerful emanations known, were the only radiation in space that could not be protected against. But in small doses they had been found not to be dangerous. “As soon as our recorders get more of the figures your telemeter is giving us,” the operations chief said, “you can leave the rocket.” When Marsh got the O.K. a few minutes later, he eagerly unstrapped the belts around his body. He could hardly contain his excitement at being the first person to view the globe of Earth from space. As he struggled to his feet, the lightness of zero gravity
was an understatement. For the Grannies, though possessed of certain low intelligence, had quickly proven themselves a deadly, unyielding and implacable foe. Worse yet, they were an enemy almost indestructible! No man had ever yet brought to Earth laboratories the carcass of a Grannie; science was completely baffled in its endeavors to explain the composition of Graniteback physiology—but it was known, from bitter experience, that the carapace or exoskeleton of the Grannies was formed of something harder than steel, diamond, or battleplate! This flesh could be penetrated by no weapon known to man; neither by steel nor flame, by electronic
|
Describe the setting of the story.
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Acid Bath by Bill Garson.
Relevant chunks:
events of the day before dropping off to sleep. The troublesome Sally. The strange dream world of Armagon. The visit to the barber shop. The removal of Brundage's body. The conversations with the townspeople. Dawes' suspicious attitude ... Then sleep came. He was flanked by marble pillars, thrusting towards a high-domed ceiling. The room stretched long and wide before him, the walls bedecked in stunning purple draperies. He whirled at the sound of footsteps, echoing stridently on the stone floor. Someone was running towards him. It was Sally, pigtails streaming out behind her, the small body wearing a flowing white
tightening of the man's shoulder muscles that his presence was known. He looked down and saw that his feet made clear-cut depressions in the soft rich soil of the field. "Continue to work," he said to the young man. "Do not be too surprised at what I am about to tell you, Rold." He paused and watched the golden man's rather stupid face intently. "I am not a Misty One," Noork said. "I killed the owner of this strange garment I wear yesterday on the mainland. I have come to rescue the girl, Tholon Sarna, of whom you spoke." Rold's
bound to develop differently." "Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identical twins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They met by accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman. Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a fox terrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environments similar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each of them had exactly the same experiences at the same times...." For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and
from the side of her mouth. "Don't you know nothin' ?" " Arma gon," Dawes corrected. He looked sheepishly at the stranger. "Don't expect Mister—" He cocked an eyebrow. "What's the name?" "Becker." "Don't expect Mr. Becker knows anything about Armagon. It's just a dream, you know." He smiled apologetically. "Dream? You mean this—Armagon is a place you dream about?" "Yep," Dawes said. He lifted cup to lip. "Great coffee, Ma." He leaned back with a contented sigh. "Dream about it every night. Got so used to the place, I get all confused in the daytime." Mom said: "I get
the people there know nothing of a Lincoln or that war." Jeff looked blank. "What are they doing then?" The little man spread his hands. "What are the people doing now at Sixth and Main? Certainly not the same things they were doing the day of the fire. We're talking about a dimension, not an event. Don't you grasp the difference between the two?" "Nope. To me, 1865 means the end of the Civil War. How else can you speak of a point in time except by the events that happened then?" "Well, if you go to a place in
Question:
Describe the setting of the story.
Answer:
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[
"The story is initially set on an asteroid, where a stationary rocket station is. Jon has a blue plastic igloo to live in. There is also a ravine where he runs to in an attempt to elude the Steel-Blues. There are bushes, water, and dense thicket that he must go through before getting to the hollowed-out space in the center. At the station, there is a lock for his key to go through. The lever then opens to a long tunnel, and there is a televisor that fixes on the area. The station is made out of stelrylite, but it becomes riddled with holes after the Steel-Blues attack. The station also has a row of studs and a revolving turret that fires atomic cannons. There is a yellow, blue, and red button to fire. The Blue Steels’ spaceship can change its part to a bubble-like metal. The spaceship of the invaders is pitch-black and is a maze-like corridor. At the end, there is a circular room with bright light streaming from a glass-like and bulging skylight. In the examination room, the Steel-Blues build a miniature reproduction of the space station with plastic walls. There is a small opening in the four foot cylinder that brings him a strange liquid. Although the Steel-Blues are always present, the tank they keep him in is fairly easy to break out of. ",
"This setting occurs in the same system as Earth, inhabited both by humans and the Steel-Blue creatures. More specifically, this story takes place aboard the Steel-Blues' ship. Karyl encounters many rooms including the examination room, but the majority of the story has him in a clear plastic igloo by which is he observed by the creatures. The igloo is a miniature recreation of the service station with a lock outside. \n\nAt the end of the story, Karyl is saved and the setting changes to be onboard the Space Patrol ship, where he is safe and recovering.",
"The story happens on an asteroid under the control of the earthman. The surface of the asteroid is rocky and uneven. The service station is underground of a ravine, whose surface is filled with man-high bushes. Its entrance is hidden underneath a dense thicket around the hairpin turn of the old watercourse. In the center of the hollowed-out space lies a self-sealing lock, which is the door of the entrance. Behind the door, there is a long tunnel, the end of which is a room surrounded by the televisors. A steel ladder leads to the station’s power plant room, which is also equipped with televisors that can watch all the rooms in the station. There are weapons stored in the power room. The station is capped with a revolving turret. The outer shell of the service station, including the entrance door, is constituted by stelrylite, the toughest metal in Earthman’s knowledge. The blue spaceship lies near the stationary rocket engine outside the service station. Inside the blue spaceship, it is dark and mazed with corridors. There is a circular room lighted with a bulging skylight, where the leader of the Steel-Blues is. \n\nThe Steel-Blues build a smaller plastic igloo, similar to the one in the service station, to serve as the prison for Jon to torture him. There are instruments ranged inside, such as an air pump from the station and a pallet laid inside. The wall is made of clear plastic. The atmosphere inside is reproduced as the one in the service station, only with more proportion of the oxygen. There is a cylinder whose center can open, where it usually sits a glass tumbler containing a yellowish liquid that is claimed to be the harmful liquid to torture Jon. The cylinder is equipped with tentacles that can control Jon to drink the liquid and take down his defense.\n",
"The story is located in a small asteroid that is described to be barren and empty, with gray rocks. The asteroid only has a single base, which is where Jon lives alone. There is also a ravine with plants that allow Jon to hide a secondary entry to his base, which is the one that he uses to get away from the steel-blues initially. When Jon gets captured, he is taken to the ship of the steel-blues, and he learns that they made a smaller replica of his base because they want him to die happily. "
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events of the day before dropping off to sleep. The troublesome Sally. The strange dream world of Armagon. The visit to the barber shop. The removal of Brundage's body. The conversations with the townspeople. Dawes' suspicious attitude ... Then sleep came. He was flanked by marble pillars, thrusting towards a high-domed ceiling. The room stretched long and wide before him, the walls bedecked in stunning purple draperies. He whirled at the sound of footsteps, echoing stridently on the stone floor. Someone was running towards him. It was Sally, pigtails streaming out behind her, the small body wearing a flowing white
tightening of the man's shoulder muscles that his presence was known. He looked down and saw that his feet made clear-cut depressions in the soft rich soil of the field. "Continue to work," he said to the young man. "Do not be too surprised at what I am about to tell you, Rold." He paused and watched the golden man's rather stupid face intently. "I am not a Misty One," Noork said. "I killed the owner of this strange garment I wear yesterday on the mainland. I have come to rescue the girl, Tholon Sarna, of whom you spoke." Rold's
bound to develop differently." "Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identical twins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They met by accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman. Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a fox terrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environments similar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each of them had exactly the same experiences at the same times...." For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and
from the side of her mouth. "Don't you know nothin' ?" " Arma gon," Dawes corrected. He looked sheepishly at the stranger. "Don't expect Mister—" He cocked an eyebrow. "What's the name?" "Becker." "Don't expect Mr. Becker knows anything about Armagon. It's just a dream, you know." He smiled apologetically. "Dream? You mean this—Armagon is a place you dream about?" "Yep," Dawes said. He lifted cup to lip. "Great coffee, Ma." He leaned back with a contented sigh. "Dream about it every night. Got so used to the place, I get all confused in the daytime." Mom said: "I get
the people there know nothing of a Lincoln or that war." Jeff looked blank. "What are they doing then?" The little man spread his hands. "What are the people doing now at Sixth and Main? Certainly not the same things they were doing the day of the fire. We're talking about a dimension, not an event. Don't you grasp the difference between the two?" "Nope. To me, 1865 means the end of the Civil War. How else can you speak of a point in time except by the events that happened then?" "Well, if you go to a place in
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Who is Ida and what are her characteristics?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Bridge Crossing by Dave Dryfoos.
Relevant chunks:
afraid to wait until daylight. And ... well, we want you to pilot it! She refuses to risk Mr. Roberds' job. She favors you." Rat stepped back, astonished. "She?" Nurse Gray moved from the window and Rat saw the second form in the room, a slight, quiet figure on a small cot. "My patient," Nurse Gray explained. "She overheard our conversation awhile ago. Quick, please, can you?" Rat looked at her and then at the girl on the cot. He vanished from the window. Almost immediately, he was back again. "When?" he whispered. "As soon as possible. Yes. Do you
City comes." Eric turned his gaze to the side and saw the woman who had spoken. She was mounted upon a black horse with a jeweled bridle. She was young and her hair was long and free in the wind. She had ridden so softly across the fur street that no one had been aware of her presence. She said, "Let me touch this man. Let me feel the pulse of his heart so that I may know if he is truly the Bronze one of the Legend. Give me your hand, stranger." She leaned down and grasped his hand.
men present. The man at her right, obviously presiding here looked at Eric and spoke. "I am Kroon, the eldest of the elders. We have brought you here to satisfy ourselves of your identity. In view of your danger in the City you are entitled to some sort of explanation." He glanced around the room and asked, "What is the judgment of the elders?" Eric caught a faint nod here, a gesture there. Kroon nodded as if in satisfaction. He turned to the girl, "And what is your opinion, Daughter of the City?" Nolette's expression held sorrow, as if she
own far flung kind to return." Eric nodded. He asked, "What happens now?" "Nothing. Dwell here with us and you will be safe from our people. If the prediction is not soon fulfilled and you are not the Eric of the Legend, you may stay or go as you desire." "My brother, Garve. What about him?" "He loves the city. He will also stay, though he will be outside this building." Kroon clasped his hands. "Nolette, will you show Eric his quarters?"
Eric shook his arms free, and reached up and clung to the offered hand, thinking, "If I pull her down perhaps I can use her as a shield." He tensed his muscles and began to pull. She cried, "No! You fool. Come up on the horse," and pulled back with an energy as fierce as his own. Then he had swung up on the horse, and the animal leaped forward, its muffled gallop beating out a tattoo of freedom. Eric clung tightly to the girl's waist. He could feel the young suppleness of her body, and the fine strands of
Question:
Who is Ida and what are her characteristics?
Answer:
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[
"Ida is a human girl that Roddie first encounters when she is hiding in the manhole that he frequents himself. She appears to have come into the android-ridden city on her own with the altruistic desire to help the wounded. She is selfless and persistent in her mission. She is inexperienced with the android world as demonstrated by her fright when the pair encountered a soldier, who only walked away after Roddie confronted it. Similarly, Roddie had to guide her around the city and help her with access to resources like shelter and food. \n\nIda is loyal and brave as well. Despite Roddie threatening to kill her at the end of the story, Ida insists on the idea that they are both human and that Roddie’s way of thinking was incorrect. In the end, she is able to discourage him from killing her and he ends up comforting her. \n\n",
"Ida is short and lean, wearing a doeskin dress. Her legs are slender, and her tiny bare feet wear nothing. Her face is tanned and ruddy, with a full mouth and dark eyes. She is friendly to Roddie when she guesses he is lost from the boat. Ida is brilliant as she figures out Roddie’s identity after his interaction with an android and his familiarity with the surrounding areas and baby food. She is also brave as she suppresses her fear and manages her way to escape from Roddie after knowing his intention to catch her. She is dedicated as her purpose in ruins is to help her fellows in every way possible. Roddie sees her as purposeless and impulsive. She is weaker than Roddie. She is nervous and scared when they walk towards the bridge, being furtive and close behind Roddie. She is emotional, and she considers it a good thing because she is angry at Roddie’s claim of the superiority of being rational.",
"Ida is a girl that traversed illegally into San Francisco in order to help men get supplies and fight the robots that patrolled the city. Women weren’t allowed to go into the city, so she snuck into one of the boats in order to help the wounded men who were fighting. She is described as small and thin, but that allows her to be quick and agile. When Ida meets Roddie, she wants to bring him back to the humans so he can learn where he comes from, and that he doesn’t belong with the robots. She is very brave, because she wasn’t afraid of being killed by Roddie or the robots. ",
"Ida is a young girl, one of the Invaders living outside the city. The fact that she followed Roddie’s footprints and found his hideout seems to indicate her intelligence. She is brave and compassionate - Ida was ready to secretly leave her safe community and come to the city to help the wounded. She is emotional: we see that when she unexpectedly kisses Roddie or when she starts crying at the end. Ida also has a strong sense of justice - she considers returning the city to men a necessity, she thinks San Francisco belongs to them. Ida also doesn’t seem to like violence or destructive behavior - this is what she says to Roddie at the end. \n"
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afraid to wait until daylight. And ... well, we want you to pilot it! She refuses to risk Mr. Roberds' job. She favors you." Rat stepped back, astonished. "She?" Nurse Gray moved from the window and Rat saw the second form in the room, a slight, quiet figure on a small cot. "My patient," Nurse Gray explained. "She overheard our conversation awhile ago. Quick, please, can you?" Rat looked at her and then at the girl on the cot. He vanished from the window. Almost immediately, he was back again. "When?" he whispered. "As soon as possible. Yes. Do you
City comes." Eric turned his gaze to the side and saw the woman who had spoken. She was mounted upon a black horse with a jeweled bridle. She was young and her hair was long and free in the wind. She had ridden so softly across the fur street that no one had been aware of her presence. She said, "Let me touch this man. Let me feel the pulse of his heart so that I may know if he is truly the Bronze one of the Legend. Give me your hand, stranger." She leaned down and grasped his hand.
men present. The man at her right, obviously presiding here looked at Eric and spoke. "I am Kroon, the eldest of the elders. We have brought you here to satisfy ourselves of your identity. In view of your danger in the City you are entitled to some sort of explanation." He glanced around the room and asked, "What is the judgment of the elders?" Eric caught a faint nod here, a gesture there. Kroon nodded as if in satisfaction. He turned to the girl, "And what is your opinion, Daughter of the City?" Nolette's expression held sorrow, as if she
own far flung kind to return." Eric nodded. He asked, "What happens now?" "Nothing. Dwell here with us and you will be safe from our people. If the prediction is not soon fulfilled and you are not the Eric of the Legend, you may stay or go as you desire." "My brother, Garve. What about him?" "He loves the city. He will also stay, though he will be outside this building." Kroon clasped his hands. "Nolette, will you show Eric his quarters?"
Eric shook his arms free, and reached up and clung to the offered hand, thinking, "If I pull her down perhaps I can use her as a shield." He tensed his muscles and began to pull. She cried, "No! You fool. Come up on the horse," and pulled back with an energy as fierce as his own. Then he had swung up on the horse, and the animal leaped forward, its muffled gallop beating out a tattoo of freedom. Eric clung tightly to the girl's waist. He could feel the young suppleness of her body, and the fine strands of
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What happens to Terrence throughout the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Highest Mountain by Bryce Walton.
Relevant chunks:
second honeymoon— Then it struck me. Poor Marge? Poor sucker George! No Prime in his right circuits would behave this way without some human guidance and that meant only one thing: Marge had spotted him. It had happened before. Couple of nasty court battles I'd read about. And she'd known all about George Prime. For how long? When I got home, the house was empty. George Prime wasn't in his closet. And Marge wasn't in the house. They were gone. I started to call the police, but caught myself just in time. I couldn't very well complain to the cops
Well, naturally Kaiser would transmit baby talk messages to his mother ship! He was— GROWING UP ON BIG MUDDY By CHARLES V. DE VET Illustrated by TURPIN [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction July 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Kaiser stared at the tape in his hand for a long uncomprehending minute. How long had the stuff been coming through in this inane baby talk? And why hadn't he noticed it before? Why had he had to read this last communication a third time
in uniform isn't supposed to drink, but Brock figures that the head of the Security Guard ought to be able to get away with a breach of his own rules. We had our drinks in front of us and our cigarettes lit before Brock opened up with his troubles. "Oak," he said, "I wanted to intercept you before you went to the plant because I want you to know that there may be trouble." "Yeah? What kind?" Sometimes it's a pain to play ignorant. "Thurston's outfit is trying to oust Ravenhurst from the managership of Viking and take over the
RECOVERED. FEELING FINE. ANYTHING NEW FROM SAM? AND HOW ABOUT THE DAMAGE TO SCOUT? GIVE ME ANYTHING YOU HAVE ON EITHER OR BOTH. SMOKY Kaiser felt suddenly weary. He lay on the scout's bunk and tried to sleep. Soon he was in that phantasm land between sleep and wakefulness—he knew he was not sleeping, yet he did dream. It was the same dream he had had many times before. In it, he was back home again, the home he had joined the space service to escape. He had realized soon after his marriage that his wife, Helene, did not love
operators in the Belt, but when it came to personal relationships, he was utterly incompetent. He could make anyone dislike him without trying. When I entered the office, he was [3] sitting behind his mahogany desk, his eyes focused on the operation he was going through with a wineglass and a decanter. He didn't look up at me as he said: "Sit down, Mr. Oak. Will you have some Madeira?" I decided I might as well observe the pleasantries. There was no point in my getting nasty until he did. "Thank you, Mr. Ravenhurst, I will." He kept his eyes
Question:
What happens to Terrence throughout the story?
Answer:
|
[
"Terrence is the ship’s captain. At the beginning, he serves as a judge when he interrogates Bruce, who killed the other crew member Doran. Terrence listens to the story about Venus and claims that Bruce is not a true conqueror and is simply a psycho. He then asks a question about Bruce’s dreams and later hears the story of Doran's death. Stromberg then concludes that Bruce has schizophrenia caused by inner conflict. He also supposes that Doran imagined the strange creature after Terrence asks him to explain the actions of the killed crew member. Finally, instead of killing Bruce, Terrence orders him to sit by the radio and write down everything they report while climbing. He reports that they are at fifteen and then twenty-five thousand feet and are to take a little time out. At forty thousand feet, he tells Bruce that the mountain is way higher than they thought - their computations are wrong. At sixty thousand feet, he shoots Anhauser after the latter starts dissenting and becomes hysterical and claims the mountain to be a tester for the real conquerors. Eventually, they reach the mark of five hundred thousand feet, and the captain is shocked. Later, Marsha unexpectedly starts dying, and Terrence concludes that women don’t have real guts for such undertakings. At six hundred thousand feet, he starts declaring that they will soon find the top of the universe. Terrence made it farther than any other crew member of the five ships. He dies with his fingers still clutching the rock outcroppings. In reality, he’s just over twelve miles away from the spaceship horizontally. \n",
"Captain Terrence is initially present for Bruce’s trial. He does not understand how the other man thinks, believing that nothing is more important than the destiny of Earth. He is a great believer of the totalitarian thought, finding no problem killing whatever stands in their way of ultimate conquest. He decides to scale the mountain with the other members of the crew, leaving Bruce behind to take care of the radio. On the mountain, Terrence excitedly documents his journey, talking about how far they have gotten. However, he does have to shoot Anhauser because the other man does not want to climb anymore. He shouts a few more reports to Bruce before disappearing completely, having died. Terrence is the one who tries to climb the furthest after everybody else dies, wanting to be the one who conquers the mountain and brings the glory back to Earth. In reality, he had completely been trapped in the illusion and lays dead at the end with his arms stretched out.",
"In the beginning of the story, Terrence leads the inquisition against Bruce for killing Lieutenant Doran without provocation. He has already determined Bruce's fate - an execution - but grants the inquest to understand his motivations. He often explodes in anger as Bruce only appears to give philosophical lectures about morality. When Terrence agrees to hear Bruce's supposed dreams out, he disagrees with Bruce's disinterest in climbing the mountain and concludes him to be a psycho. However, he agrees to let Bruce live only to note down the crew's upcoming climb to the mountain, for records. \n\nIn the latter half of the story, Terrence and his crew begin the climb up the mountain. Terrence often gives Bruce updates on the altitude of their climb, and sometimes request his response to make sure he is still there. Terrence also reported he had to shoot Anhauser for dissenting, as the latter wanted to descend back down the mountain. Upwards of an ascent of five hundred thousand feet, Terrence begins to go mad as he yells of his domination of the mountain and conquest of the Solar System. As his crazy yells fade, he is presumed to be dead, which is confirmed later on. ",
"Terrence wears a black uniform, and he is the captain of Mars V, a rocket that lands on Mars. Terrence presides over Bruce’s trial that Bruce kills Lieutenant Doran. When they argue with each other, Terrence insists on the importance of the twisted democracy and the strength of a conqueror, which, according to Bruce, is totalitarianism disguised under democracy. Terrence regards Bruce as a psycho, deciding his fate of staying while he and all the other crewmembers climb the mountain. When they start to climb the mountain, Terrence reports to Bruce through the radio while climbing, showing his conquering feeling of climbing the highest mountain and belittling everything else, even the universe. Terrence kills Anhauser because he dissents to keep climbing. Terrence becomes more and more enthusiastic about climbing and conquering the mountain. When Marsha is talking to Bruce, Terrence interrupts them, expresses his ambition, and dies. He manages to climb to the highest but still dies."
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second honeymoon— Then it struck me. Poor Marge? Poor sucker George! No Prime in his right circuits would behave this way without some human guidance and that meant only one thing: Marge had spotted him. It had happened before. Couple of nasty court battles I'd read about. And she'd known all about George Prime. For how long? When I got home, the house was empty. George Prime wasn't in his closet. And Marge wasn't in the house. They were gone. I started to call the police, but caught myself just in time. I couldn't very well complain to the cops
Well, naturally Kaiser would transmit baby talk messages to his mother ship! He was— GROWING UP ON BIG MUDDY By CHARLES V. DE VET Illustrated by TURPIN [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction July 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Kaiser stared at the tape in his hand for a long uncomprehending minute. How long had the stuff been coming through in this inane baby talk? And why hadn't he noticed it before? Why had he had to read this last communication a third time
in uniform isn't supposed to drink, but Brock figures that the head of the Security Guard ought to be able to get away with a breach of his own rules. We had our drinks in front of us and our cigarettes lit before Brock opened up with his troubles. "Oak," he said, "I wanted to intercept you before you went to the plant because I want you to know that there may be trouble." "Yeah? What kind?" Sometimes it's a pain to play ignorant. "Thurston's outfit is trying to oust Ravenhurst from the managership of Viking and take over the
RECOVERED. FEELING FINE. ANYTHING NEW FROM SAM? AND HOW ABOUT THE DAMAGE TO SCOUT? GIVE ME ANYTHING YOU HAVE ON EITHER OR BOTH. SMOKY Kaiser felt suddenly weary. He lay on the scout's bunk and tried to sleep. Soon he was in that phantasm land between sleep and wakefulness—he knew he was not sleeping, yet he did dream. It was the same dream he had had many times before. In it, he was back home again, the home he had joined the space service to escape. He had realized soon after his marriage that his wife, Helene, did not love
operators in the Belt, but when it came to personal relationships, he was utterly incompetent. He could make anyone dislike him without trying. When I entered the office, he was [3] sitting behind his mahogany desk, his eyes focused on the operation he was going through with a wineglass and a decanter. He didn't look up at me as he said: "Sit down, Mr. Oak. Will you have some Madeira?" I decided I might as well observe the pleasantries. There was no point in my getting nasty until he did. "Thank you, Mr. Ravenhurst, I will." He kept his eyes
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Describe the setting of the story.
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Orphans of the Void by Michael Shaara.
Relevant chunks:
proud of the apartment. It had all the modern conveniences, like the needle shower with the perfume dispenser, the built-in soft-drink bar in the library, the all-communications set, and the electrical massager. It was a nice, comfortable setup, an illusion of security in an ever-changing world. She lit a cigarette and chuckled. Mrs. Burger, the fat old landlady, thought she kept up the apartment by working as a buyer for one of the downtown stores. Well, maybe some day she would. But not today. And not tonight. The phone rang and she answered in a casual tone. She talked for
the means to go there.... Yet instinct told me that wasn't the answer, either. I thought of a verse by an ancient pre-atomic poet named Hoffenstein. (People had unwieldy, random combinations of letters for names in those days.) The poem went: Wherever I go, I go too, And spoil everything. That was it. The story of mankind. I turned the glowlight down and lay on the pneumo after a while, but I didn't sleep for a long, long time. Then, when I did sleep, when I had been sleeping, I heard the voice again. The low, seductive woman's voice—the startling,
willing guest. No! He couldn't afford it! No! No! NO! His lot was a cheap suit of satin! Cheap whiskey! Cheap champagne! A cheap shack by the river.... An inarticulate cry escaped his twisted lips. He clutched her roughly to him and dragged her through the door and into the moonlight, whiskey and anger lending him brutal strength. He pulled her through the deserted garden. All the others had private rooms! He pulled her to the far end, behind a clump of squatty firs. His hands clawed at her. He tried to smother her mouth with kisses. She eluded him
10:30." The following evening found Quidley on tenter-hooks. The snoll-doper mystery had acquired a new tang. He could hardly wait till the next message transfer took place. He decided to spend the evening plotting the epic novel which he intended to write someday. He set to work immediately. He plotted mentally, of course—notes were for the hacks and the other commercial non-geniuses who infested the modern literary world. Closing his eyes, he saw the whole vivid panorama of epic action and grand adventure flowing like a mighty and majestic river before his literary vision: the authentic and awe-inspiring background; the
edge, and birds as delicate as colored glass wavered down the wind. He opened the shelter door and went out. The shelter looked the same, but useless now. How did the shelter of that bleak world get into this one, where the air was warm and fragrant, where there was no cold, from that world into this one of his dreams? The girl—Helene—was standing there leaning against a tree, smoking a cigarette. He walked toward her, and stopped. In the dream it had been easy, but now he was embarrassed, in spite of the intimacy that had grown between them.
Question:
Describe the setting of the story.
Answer:
|
[
"The story opens in the Coal Sack Nebula, on the uninhabited fourth planet of a star called Tyban. There are twelve 15,000 year old stone buildings on the dusty uninhabitable planet, the first evidence of another advanced space-crossing alien race.\nSteffens and his crew travel to the Third planet in the Tyban solar system which seems uninhabited as well, with the cities obliterated into black holes in the ground that are at least three miles wide. The Third planet is Earth-like, with continents, hills and deserts, and of a suitable temperature for life, but with absolutely no vegetation, deathly radiation for humans, and a CO2 atmosphere. They see splintered walls and wreckage, but no life - until their discovery of the robots. There are nine million black, plastic robots slightly shorter than humans on the planet, and they have a huge, grey block building Factory near the edge of the twilight zone in a valley between two mountains where they are produced. Their desire for their human-like Makers to return to them, and their use of telepathic communication and mind-probing sets an eerie vibe over the humans’ exploration of the planet.\n",
"Orphans of the World by Michael Shaara takes place on two different planets in the Coal Sack Nebula. The first is Tyban IV. There, Steffens and his crew discover the remnants of an ancient, alien civilization from at least over 15,000 years ago. They built stone buildings, worn away with time, out of the native materials sourced on the planet. The next planet they visited was hot and radioactive, absolutely unable to support any humanoid life form. However, when they got closer to the surface, Steffens and his crew noticed a giant hole in the center, charred and burnt. All the buildings within had perished in the explosion and nothing remained but a pile of rubble. The planet itself was hot and dry without any plants or wildlife. There is also a Factory on it, a large, gray building, where the robots are created. ",
"This story takes place in space, where a group of humans is traveling on a ship in the Coal Sack Nebula. The star Tyban is the \"sun\", so to speak, of the relevant planets, and the humans start their journey on the fourth planet of this system, standing in the ruins of a destroyed city that did not leave them many details to learn from. The third planet of the system, one in from the first one they were on, had more information for them. There was a city abandoned much like the one they had found on the fourth planet, but the huge scorch mark that covered the city made it look like its destruction had been very violent. On this third planet, there was no oxygen, a lot of heat, and it didn't seem like it would be able to support any kind of life, especially since it had high levels of radiation. There was a valley with the factory in it, far away from the city. Much to the surprise of the human crew, there is a large swarm of black robots that seem to be the only connection to the planet. ",
"\n\tThe story is set in the Coal Sack Nebula on the dead fourth and third planets of a star named Tyban. The fourth planet, Tyban IV, is only one parsec from Varius II and has 12 stone buildings with no airlocks, despite the thin atmosphere, or inscriptions—any that were made would have presumably been removed by the winds blowing across the planet. The stones themselves have worn smooth, so based on the timeframe for wind erosion on Earth, Captain Steffens estimates the buildings might be 10 to 15 thousand years old. This discovery is significant because humans have been exploring space for 300 years, and this is the first sighting of an advanced, space-crossing, alien race. The planet has a sandy surface and a blue-black mid-day sky. Of the other three planets, the inner is too hot for habitation and the outer too heavy and cold. \nThe third planet has a decent temperature range but a carbon dioxide atmosphere. The planet is surrounded by a layer of clouds and a misty gas; it is a heavy planet with no free oxygen, but there are several dead cities, each destroyed by a blast in the center, leaving a deep hole three miles wide and shattered, splintered walls. There is no vegetation, and the planet has lethal radiation levels that would prevent any life. The surface features rocky hills. This planet, however, has millions of active robots produced in a factory that is still operational. The robots have telepathic abilities and communicate with the people on the ship, inviting them to land. The robot factory was built by what the robots refer to as Makers, who have since left the planet and not returned. The robots have the ability to decontaminate the radiation and are slightly radioactive themselves.\n"
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proud of the apartment. It had all the modern conveniences, like the needle shower with the perfume dispenser, the built-in soft-drink bar in the library, the all-communications set, and the electrical massager. It was a nice, comfortable setup, an illusion of security in an ever-changing world. She lit a cigarette and chuckled. Mrs. Burger, the fat old landlady, thought she kept up the apartment by working as a buyer for one of the downtown stores. Well, maybe some day she would. But not today. And not tonight. The phone rang and she answered in a casual tone. She talked for
the means to go there.... Yet instinct told me that wasn't the answer, either. I thought of a verse by an ancient pre-atomic poet named Hoffenstein. (People had unwieldy, random combinations of letters for names in those days.) The poem went: Wherever I go, I go too, And spoil everything. That was it. The story of mankind. I turned the glowlight down and lay on the pneumo after a while, but I didn't sleep for a long, long time. Then, when I did sleep, when I had been sleeping, I heard the voice again. The low, seductive woman's voice—the startling,
willing guest. No! He couldn't afford it! No! No! NO! His lot was a cheap suit of satin! Cheap whiskey! Cheap champagne! A cheap shack by the river.... An inarticulate cry escaped his twisted lips. He clutched her roughly to him and dragged her through the door and into the moonlight, whiskey and anger lending him brutal strength. He pulled her through the deserted garden. All the others had private rooms! He pulled her to the far end, behind a clump of squatty firs. His hands clawed at her. He tried to smother her mouth with kisses. She eluded him
10:30." The following evening found Quidley on tenter-hooks. The snoll-doper mystery had acquired a new tang. He could hardly wait till the next message transfer took place. He decided to spend the evening plotting the epic novel which he intended to write someday. He set to work immediately. He plotted mentally, of course—notes were for the hacks and the other commercial non-geniuses who infested the modern literary world. Closing his eyes, he saw the whole vivid panorama of epic action and grand adventure flowing like a mighty and majestic river before his literary vision: the authentic and awe-inspiring background; the
edge, and birds as delicate as colored glass wavered down the wind. He opened the shelter door and went out. The shelter looked the same, but useless now. How did the shelter of that bleak world get into this one, where the air was warm and fragrant, where there was no cold, from that world into this one of his dreams? The girl—Helene—was standing there leaning against a tree, smoking a cigarette. He walked toward her, and stopped. In the dream it had been easy, but now he was embarrassed, in spite of the intimacy that had grown between them.
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What happens to the "chicken colonel" throughout the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Plague by Teddy Keller.
Relevant chunks:
out? It'd be fun while it lasted. But he toted up the disadvantages. He either would have to find a hiding place on the asteroid, and if the Steel-Blues wanted him bad enough they could tear the whole place to pieces, or somehow get aboard the little life ship hidden in the service station. In that he would be just a sitting duck. He shrugged off the slight temptation to use the pistol. He was still curious. And he was interested in staying alive as long as possible. There was a remote chance he might warn the SP ship. Unconsciously,
lived to remember it. Until hospitals are built on this forlorn world, humans like you who haven't been properly conditioned will have to stay right at home." "How about these men that live and work here?" "They never get here until they've been through the mill first. Adenoids, appendix', all the extra parts they can get along without." "Well," Judith said. "I've certainly learned my lesson!" Gray didn't answer, but from out of the darkness surrounding her came a sound remarkably resembling a snort. "Gray?" Judith asked fearfully. "Yes?" "Hasn't the pilot been gone an awfully long time?" Rat himself
when I kept alive after drinking enough to completely annihilate a half-dozen of them. "But what happened when you met the ship?" The space captain grinned. "Not much. Our crew was busy creating a hollow shell filled with water to be shot out of a rocket tube converted into a projectile thrower. "These Steel-Blues, as you call them, put traction beams on us and started tugging us toward the asteroid. We tried a couple of atomic shots but when they just glanced off, we gave up. "They weren't expecting the shell of water. When it hit that blue ship, you
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
Orphans of the Void By MICHAEL SHAARA Illustrated by EMSH [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction June 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Finding a cause worth dying for is no great trick—the Universe is full of them. Finding one worth living for is the genuine problem! In the region of the Coal Sack Nebula, on the dead fourth planet of a star called Tyban, Captain Steffens of the Mapping Command stood counting buildings. Eleven. No, twelve. He wondered if there was any significance in
Question:
What happens to the "chicken colonel" throughout the story?
Answer:
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[
"From the start, the colonel does not approve of Sergeant Andrew McCloud. His gray eyes carry disapproval and irritation in them. As a member of the brass, the colonel strives for everything to be official and approved of, unlike the sergeant’s recent promotion. The replacement for the retired colonel had not yet arrived, and the chicken colonel is not thrilled. To have a noncom, defined as a noncommissioned officer, in charge of this office while in the midst of a national epidemic is ludicrous, in his eyes. \n\tDespite voicing his doubts and grievances, Sergeant Andy is allowed to continue working as the head-of-office, at least for the time being. The colonel steals away and plots his next move. \n\tSeveral hours later, he returns, this time with two officers in tow. He walks into Sergeant Andy’s office where he and Corporal Bettijean were looking through a stack of papers. With a defiant stride, the colonel tosses a newspaper onto the Sergeant’s desk. Andy reads it and quickly throws it across the room. The article tells the tale of a red plague taking over America, a possible plot from Russia, and baffled government officials. The colonel brought in the article--and possibly helped write it--to convey the seriousness of the situation, but Andy takes it as an offense instead. \n\tHis colleague, Corporal Bettijean, defends Andy and reprimands the colonel at the same time. The captain behind him scolds her in return. After Sergeant Andy recites a list of excuses for his office, the colonel tells him that his insubordination will not be allowed. He calls for his removal, as well as Corporal Bettijean's, and promotes the two officers from the surgeon general’s office to take their positions. \n\tAfter some fight, Andy relents and stands up, releasing himself of his duty. He kisses his colleague once, before she tries to fight back again. The general walks in and quickly demotes the colonel and his men to working at the switchboard, where the reader can assume they stay for the rest of the story. \n",
"Andy’s first impression of the colonel (at least in terms of this story) is of the colonel whining about Andy being in charge, insistent that only officers in combat roles should be in charge of a situation as large as a nationwide epidemic. After Andy is able to work through some reports with Bettiejean, the colonel returns to throw a newspaper on Andy’s desk to show the headlines, proving that the public panic has started. In this very tense encounter, the colonel continued to insist that Andy needed to understand the gravity of the situation, without recognizing that of course Andy knew that the issue was serious. He and a young captain overreacted to Bettiejean trying to calm the situation, citing insubordination, and the colonel tries to relieve Andy and Bettiejean of their duties before he is interrupted by a general. This general then assigns the colonel to report to Andy and Bettiejean for the remainder of the crisis, which makes the colonel even more upset. Near the end of the story, after the lab has a report about the toxin on the stamps, the colonel is already trying to take charge again. He reaches for Andy’s phone to start making calls even though Andy is the one in charge of the office, and is the point-person for the epidemic. The colonel is again put in his place by his general, and is eventually sent out of the building with the rest of the officers.",
"The chicken colonel (slang for a full colonel--an officer with an eagle as an insignia) is an individual who is preoccupied with rank and traditional military chain-of-command formality. The fact that Andy is a noncommissioned officer operating without direct commissioned officer oversight is unacceptable to him.\n\nWhile the brigadier general sees Andy's expertise and places him in charge of the investigation, the chicken colonel immediately acts to try to undermine Andy's command. He arrives with two young officers to take over the Germ Protection Division but is stopped by an even higher ranking officer--the brigadier. The chicken colonel and his subordinates are assigned to work the phones in a humiliating defeat.",
"Chicken colonel comes into McCloud’s office and demonstrates his dismay with McCloud’s handling of the crisis thus far by slamming a newspaper on the desk. When McCloud and Bettlejean dismiss his criticisms and explain that they have been awake for days, working around the clock, chicken does not bat an eye. Instead, he excuses them from their work to discipline them. \n\nHowever, he is swiftly interrupted by the general who insists that McCloud be in charge of the entire operation, regardless of his rank. He sends chicken colonel to man the phone lines with the rest of his staff. \n\nWhen McCloud announces that he believes American postage stamps have been poisoned, chicken colonel immediately picks up his phone and tries to take the lead once more. The general tells him to stop because McCloud is in charge of what the next steps are. \n\n\n\n\n\n"
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out? It'd be fun while it lasted. But he toted up the disadvantages. He either would have to find a hiding place on the asteroid, and if the Steel-Blues wanted him bad enough they could tear the whole place to pieces, or somehow get aboard the little life ship hidden in the service station. In that he would be just a sitting duck. He shrugged off the slight temptation to use the pistol. He was still curious. And he was interested in staying alive as long as possible. There was a remote chance he might warn the SP ship. Unconsciously,
lived to remember it. Until hospitals are built on this forlorn world, humans like you who haven't been properly conditioned will have to stay right at home." "How about these men that live and work here?" "They never get here until they've been through the mill first. Adenoids, appendix', all the extra parts they can get along without." "Well," Judith said. "I've certainly learned my lesson!" Gray didn't answer, but from out of the darkness surrounding her came a sound remarkably resembling a snort. "Gray?" Judith asked fearfully. "Yes?" "Hasn't the pilot been gone an awfully long time?" Rat himself
when I kept alive after drinking enough to completely annihilate a half-dozen of them. "But what happened when you met the ship?" The space captain grinned. "Not much. Our crew was busy creating a hollow shell filled with water to be shot out of a rocket tube converted into a projectile thrower. "These Steel-Blues, as you call them, put traction beams on us and started tugging us toward the asteroid. We tried a couple of atomic shots but when they just glanced off, we gave up. "They weren't expecting the shell of water. When it hit that blue ship, you
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
Orphans of the Void By MICHAEL SHAARA Illustrated by EMSH [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction June 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Finding a cause worth dying for is no great trick—the Universe is full of them. Finding one worth living for is the genuine problem! In the region of the Coal Sack Nebula, on the dead fourth planet of a star called Tyban, Captain Steffens of the Mapping Command stood counting buildings. Eleven. No, twelve. He wondered if there was any significance in
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Who is Johnny Haldane and what happens to him throughout the story?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Lorelei Death by Nelson S. Bond.
Relevant chunks:
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
she guiltily told herself, and it was his tremendous vitality.... It was like meeting a movie hero in the flesh, or a hero out of the pages of a book—Deer-slayer, John Clayton, Lord Greystoke. She waited in the doorway to the laboratory and made no move to join them, merely acknowledged the two with a nod and a smile and a casual lift of the hand. They nodded and smiled back. "Hello, June," said Pat and continued telling his tale, but as they passed he lightly touched her arm. "Oh, pioneer!" she said mockingly and softly to his passing profile,
had the power to enforce those measures. But though his job was in the service of humanity, he soon found himself the most hated man in the world. For it was his job to tell parents their children were unfit to live; he had to uproot people from their homes and send them to remote areas of the world. Now, threatened by mobs of outraged citizens, denounced and blackened by the press, Roy Walton had to make a decision: resign his post, or use his power to destroy his enemies, become a dictator in the hopes of saving humanity from
up a little." FitzMaugham chuckled. "In another century or two, you mean. I'm afraid you'll never learn how to relax, my boy." The lift tube arrived. Walton stepped to one side, allowed the Director to enter, and got in himself. FitzMaugham pushed Fourteen ; there was a coffee shop down there. Hesitantly, Walton pushed twenty , covering the panel with his arm so the old man would be unable to see his destination. As the tube began to descend, FitzMaugham said, "Did Mr. Prior come to see you this morning?" "Yes," Walton said. "He's the poet, isn't he? The one
fact and presented him as neat and fresh. "I have some work to do now." His voice was barely audible. "I won't keep you any longer, then," Fred said. The screen went dead. Walton killed the contact at his end, got up, walked to the window. He nudged the opaquer control and the frosty white haze over the glass cleared away, revealing the fantastic beehive of the city outside. Idiot! he thought. Fool! He had risked everything to save one baby, one child probably doomed to an early death anyway. And FitzMaugham knew—the old man could see through Walton with
Question:
Who is Johnny Haldane and what happens to him throughout the story?
Answer:
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[
"Johnny Haldane is a member of the Space Patrol and one of Chip’s old friends. They talk briefly about their previous adventures and running into each other all across space, which speaks highly of their close bond. He arrives on Dandae to track one of the Lorelei’s crew, hoping to follow him all the way back to their hideout. However, while there, he runs into Chip and makes a grand entrance, accusing him of murder. This causes the bartender to scurry away, so they sit and talk in private while nursing a bottle of scotch. After chatting for a bit, Chip reveals to Johnny that his crew found a mountain of ekalastron and they gave it back to the Space Patrol, as private users might have abused the material. All is well and good until Johnny hears that Chip used his visiphone to get in touch with Earth authorities, which Johnny immediately protests. Evidently, the Lorelei tracks people through visiphone messages and could have intercepted his. They decide to take on the Lorelei together, tracking the crew member back to their base and using Chip’s newly-plated ship for protection. However, before they can move, a man comes in with a scar on his face and shoots at the two of them. Johnny saves Chip’s life by pushing him out of the way but is killed by the blast. ",
"Johnny Haldane is a type of space-cop who is following a lead about the Lorelei, which has brought him to the asteroid Danae in an attempt to intercept a supply run. He is friends with Chip, though they have not seen each other in some time. However, they have a friendly rapport, as he was the one who burst into the bar at the beginning of the story, accusing Chip of murder and calling for his arrest as a way to get his attention. He explains everything he knows about the recent attacks that the Loreli has been accused of recently, and they two of them decide to pursue the case together in Chip's fancy newly-protected ship before Johnny dies in a skirmish at the bar by the hand of a man with a scar on his face. Besides the information about the Lorelei, the other lasting impact he has on his story is his false accusation of Chip when he greets him: because everyone else took this seriously, it means Chip is being chased and accused of murder for the duration of the story. \n",
"Johnny Haldane is a member of the Space Patrol and an old friend of Chip Warren. He is a strong, brave man with a sense of humor. He startles Chip by bursting into the bar and jokingly yelling for someone to grab Chip because he’s wanted for murder. Haldane is impressed to learn that Chip is plating his cruiser with ekalastron and learning of his cargo, asks if Chip will sell it on the open market. When Chip explains they turned the mines over to the Space Patrol at Uranus and visiphoned Earth about their cargo, Haldane informs Chip that he might be in serious danger from the Lorelei. At first, Chip thinks Haldane is talking about the myth, but Haldane explains about the Lorelei image luring ships that are then taken by pirates. The pirates take the cargo and murder everyone on board. Since it started two months ago, the sting has captured a dozen ships. Haldane urges Chip to change his plans and go to Jupiter or Io instead of Earth. But when Chip reminds him his ship is being plated with ekalastron, Haldane offers to deputize Chip to go after the Lorelei together. Haldane explains that one of the Lorelei’s men is on the asteroid now picking up supplies; Haldane is trying to find him so he can follow him back to his base. Suddenly, Haldane thrusts Chip aside, and a flame shot smashes Chip’s drink bottle on the bar. Another shot is fired into Haldane’s face, killing him.\n\tLater, though, Chip’s memories of Haldane help him. He remembers Haldane’s strategy of plotting his prey’s course, and when he is sure of the destination, taking care of him. Chip applies this strategy to the assailant he is chasing, rather than racing up and overtaking him. He wants to find the Lorelei and destroy it to protect everyone in space, in addition to capturing the assailant who can clear his name. It is also Haldane’s warning of the Lorelei that enables Chip to respond without being drawn in by her beckoning. He knows the fate that awaits them if they approach her and immediately takes action that he hopes will prevent them from falling into the pirates’ clutches.\n",
"Johnny is a space cop with Space Patrol and an old friend of Chip Warren. He speaks with a deep voice, has a powerful handshake, and dresses in the blue uniform of Space Patrol. Johnny is in the casino when he sees Chip walking to the private bar, so he follows him there so the two can catch up. When Johnny enters the bar, he jokes that Chip is a murderer wanted on four planets, a joke the Martian bartender takes to heart after Johnny's death. When Chip and Johnny reunite, Johnny is impressed by Chip's discovery of ekalastron, and even more excited later when Chip offers to use his ek-coated ship to pursue Lorelei and her crew. Johnny comes to Donae in pursuit of one of Lorelei's men after receiving a tip about him traveling there on a supply run. After Johnny provides Chip with information about the truth of Lorelei's existence as well as her violent recent history in space, the two strike up the aforementioned plan to join forces and bring Lorelei to justice. No sooner is this plan hatched, than an unknown assailant--presumably Lorelei's crew member Johnny had been pursuing--begins shooting at the two men in the bar. Johnny sustains a blast to the face and immediately dies. Because of the joke Johnny had told earlier about Chip being a murderer, the Martian bartender believes Chip has killed Johnny. Angered and shaken, Chip pursues Johnny's killer with a horde of men close on heels who believe Chip is the actual killer."
] |
62039
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its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
she guiltily told herself, and it was his tremendous vitality.... It was like meeting a movie hero in the flesh, or a hero out of the pages of a book—Deer-slayer, John Clayton, Lord Greystoke. She waited in the doorway to the laboratory and made no move to join them, merely acknowledged the two with a nod and a smile and a casual lift of the hand. They nodded and smiled back. "Hello, June," said Pat and continued telling his tale, but as they passed he lightly touched her arm. "Oh, pioneer!" she said mockingly and softly to his passing profile,
had the power to enforce those measures. But though his job was in the service of humanity, he soon found himself the most hated man in the world. For it was his job to tell parents their children were unfit to live; he had to uproot people from their homes and send them to remote areas of the world. Now, threatened by mobs of outraged citizens, denounced and blackened by the press, Roy Walton had to make a decision: resign his post, or use his power to destroy his enemies, become a dictator in the hopes of saving humanity from
up a little." FitzMaugham chuckled. "In another century or two, you mean. I'm afraid you'll never learn how to relax, my boy." The lift tube arrived. Walton stepped to one side, allowed the Director to enter, and got in himself. FitzMaugham pushed Fourteen ; there was a coffee shop down there. Hesitantly, Walton pushed twenty , covering the panel with his arm so the old man would be unable to see his destination. As the tube began to descend, FitzMaugham said, "Did Mr. Prior come to see you this morning?" "Yes," Walton said. "He's the poet, isn't he? The one
fact and presented him as neat and fresh. "I have some work to do now." His voice was barely audible. "I won't keep you any longer, then," Fred said. The screen went dead. Walton killed the contact at his end, got up, walked to the window. He nudged the opaquer control and the frosty white haze over the glass cleared away, revealing the fantastic beehive of the city outside. Idiot! he thought. Fool! He had risked everything to save one baby, one child probably doomed to an early death anyway. And FitzMaugham knew—the old man could see through Walton with
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What is the plot of the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Girls From Earth by Frank M. Robinson.
Relevant chunks:
and didn't look at her. "You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock." "I can take it." Suddenly she smiled, wanly. "I was with the Fleet. How long will it take?" "Eight days, in that ship." Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Peterson was harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small ship meant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days in that untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl and Gladney. "Who was that ... man? The one you put out?" Gray
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
asked. "We call him Rat," Roberds said. She didn't ask why. She said: "Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean? What is his record?" Peterson opened his mouth. "Shut up, Peterson!" the Chief snapped. "We don't talk about his record around here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell." "Stow it, Chief," said Peterson. "Miss Gray is no pantywaist." He turned to the nurse. "Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?" Patti Gray paled. "Yes," she whispered. "Was Rat in that?" Roberds shook his head. "He didn't take part in it. But Rat was attached to a very
many days?" His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of those inhuman eyes. She fell face first to the floor. "I can't keep it up!" she cried. The sound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. "I cant! I cant!" A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. "Get up!" Rat stood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. "Get up!" She stared at him, dazed. He kicked her. "Get up!" The tepid water ran off her face and far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Rat was
moving things had unnerved him. He had already sounded the alert, flicked out the defense screens. Now he had nothing to do. He tried to concentrate on what the League Law would have him do. The Law was no help. Contact with planet-bound races was forbidden under any circumstances. But could a bunch of robots be called a race? The Law said nothing about robots because Earthmen had none. The building of imaginative robots was expressly forbidden. But at any rate, Steffens thought, he had made contact already. While Steffens stood by the screen, completely bewildered for the first time
Question:
What is the plot of the story?
Answer:
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[
"The story starts with Karl Allen, a Second System colonist, and Joe dragging their raft from the water, hoping that they will make it in time to put their names on the list. Later we learned that the list is used to pair up the females that are coming to their colony – planet – as husbands and wives. After Karl and Joe Hill finish, they still have about two hours left before the rocket lands at Landing City. On their way towards the Landing City, Karl caught himself wondering about the trip back with a girl whom he will be paired with. Apparently, they have never seen an Earthwoman, but tales seems to cherish them as hardworking and beautiful. The speaker announces that it’s time to draw their numbers. Karl draws 53. Later, Joe and Karl agrees to meet later to see if they want to trade the girls that has their numbers. \n\nMacDonald and Claude Escher meet to discuss matters regarding the ratios between male and female at the colonies. Currently, there are not as many females on the colonized planets. From the beginning of the colonization, there were more adventuresome males than females, they headed for the new world but most of the females stayed behind. Thus, there are five females for every three males on Earth, while the colonies have more males. Thus those girls needs to be brought from their original planet, in this case the Earth, to colonies for those males there. Another problem, states MacDonald, is the number of men applying for emigration to colonized planets have been dropping. MacDonald considers this reasonable since it seems illogical for a male to move away from a place that has more females than males. Escher then disregards the qualification for colonization and decides to focus on making the people that don’t want to colonize to colonize, whether it is through convincing or forcing. \n\nPhyllis Hanson is a thirty years old woman who desires a husband. The government’s supplement offering cannot replace a husband and family. Then in her mail today, she gets a poster that tells her to come to the colonies. Though she admires the man on the poster, she thought the poster is a violation of privacy. Then we see Ruby Johnson stealing a beautiful gown from the store and then getting caught. Ruby thinks that she will simply face a small fine along with a few weeks or months in detention and that’s it. She seems to have shoplifted many times that she even knows the information that the officers want. However, to her surprised, she will be charged with a 10,000 dollar fine along with ten years in prison, or she can choose to go to a colony planet and get a five-hundred-dollar bonus. She was shocked, but chooses the latter. Similarly, Suzanne is given a similar choice between shipping out to the colony or going to jail. She also chooses the colony planet. ",
"Karl Allen and Joseph Hill are doing hard work on a boat and complaining about the lack of help they are receiving. After finishing her work, Karl begins to walk along a trail and thinks about the wife draft. They continue along the trail towards Landing City where they have to walk through varying crowds and navigate the muddy streets of the city. Karl and Joseph eventually see a crowd of people in front of the rocket port office and go to inspect what is causing the commotion. The familiar poster shows a beautiful woman from Earth being advertised on the poster. They hear an announcement and follow its instructions to assemble in a line with their numbers for the wife draft. \n\nThe story switches to MacDonald and Claude Escher. MacDonald enters Escher’s office and tells Escher that the departure of men from Earth to the different colonized planets has caused the ratio of women to be much higher than men, causing various issues on Earth. Escher thinks of a plan and decides that the strict qualifications for travels and need to be financially stable need to be removed. He considers using immoral methods as a solution to convince women to colonize other planets. \n\nThe story focuses on Phyliss Hanson. Phyllis finishes her job and heads to her home. She acknowledges to herself that she is not attractive while she looks at her reflection. She grows frustrated as she is 30 and longs to have a husband but she has no prospects. She receives a letter in the mail that presents an opportunity for her to solve her problem. She mails a reply to the return address in hopes of being matched with a husband. \n\nThe story then takes a look at Ruby Johnson. She sees an absolutely gorgeous gown in a store and enacts a plan to steal it. She is immediately caught by security when she steals it. She goes through the motions of the court which she has previous experience with doing. She expects a light sentence. The judge then informs her that she has 2 choices for her sentence: emigrate to a colony planet or go to jail for 10 years with a hefty fine attached. This is an example of the immoral method Escher is enacting. While shocked, she recognizes she is being played and agrees to go to a colony planet. \n\nSuzanne is the next woman-focused upon in the story. While admiring her apartment, she gets a call. Prompted by the call, she finishes getting dressed and leaves. She walks into a brownstone after being greeted by a young man. She is surprised and unhappy to see a group of women she recognizes sitting in a room. She sits down as instructed and the man addresses the room. The man presents a similar choice as the judge did to Ruby Johnson. When asked by the man, Suzanne tries to wittingly reply that she loves to travel, indicating she chooses to emigrate. \n",
"Karl Allen and Joseph Hill are working with parampa logs by heaving them up the river. They discuss how much time is left before they go to Landing City and register for a number on the list. They start talking about the possibilities with their future wives, including raising a family and taking care of a garden. None of them have ever met an Earthwoman, but there are many stories about the pretty women. Once in Landing City, they go to the rocket port office and headquarters for the colonial office on Midplanet. Karl draws the number 53 and gets a few pamphlets with helpful information. He gets a sandwich and Pop from a boy before wandering back to the main field to wait for the rocket as it arrives. The story cuts to a conversation between Claude Escher and Mr. MacDonald. They discuss the growing ratio between women and men. Women are now turning to more petty crime because they believe it will help them catch a husband on Earth. They discuss more problems, especially how women do not want to colonize and men do not want to emigrate to the colonies. Once MacDonald leaves, Escher goes through the rules set up by the Board and tries to think of a better solution. The story then cuts to Phyllis Hansen, who goes to the washroom to clean up after a day at work. She then heads home and is worried about not finding a husband. There are alternatives to spending her evenings, such as bridge, gossiping, or a similar organization to fill the void. As she goes through the mail, Phyllis receives a poster advertising for women to go to the colonies to find a husband. She is offended and believes it is a violation of privacy. However, later, she writes a letter to the address on the poster. After, the story cuts to Ruby Johnson stealing a dress from a shop. She believes that the coast is clear but is caught by a detective. The male judge at the detention center asks why she stole it, but she refuses to tell him. Ruby gives out her statistics to the judge; he tells her that she can either go to the penitentiary for ten years and pay a ten thousand dollar fine or go to one of the colonies for a five-hundred-dollar immigration bonus. Ruby agrees to be shipped out. The final woman is Suzanne Carstens, who rents her apartment by tricking her old landlady into believing she works as a buyer in one of the downtown stores. She receives a call and goes to the address promptly. Once she steps inside, she realizes that most of the women sitting in the chairs in the building are ones that she recognizes. Suzanne tries to explain herself, but even her name is fake. However, she is offered to be shipped out to the colonies for security or to face jail time. With no choice, she accepts the offer. \n",
"This story takes place in multiple facets of the same storyline. In the first part of the story, we meet Karl Allen and Joseph Hill, who are on one of the planets that have been colonised by Earth. They are waiting for the arrival of a shipment of women from Earth, who will become their future brides. There are more men in the colonies than there are women, and so the government has sent these shipments of women from Earth to marry these men. \nIn the second part of the story, Mr. Macdonald and Mr. Escher of the colonisation board try to come up with a plan on how to convince women to leave Earth, to go and live on these worlds that are just beginning to become civilised, and marry men they've never met. They eventually come up with the idea that the method they use to entrap these women into their plan does not have to be technically all that moral, and they may be able to cross a legal grey area. \nIn the third part of the story, Phyllis Hanson, a woman of Earth, returns home from work. She is in her thirties, and probably destined to be alone and unmarried for the rest of her life at this stage. That is until she receives a poster from an unknown source, with a picture of a strapping man, telling her to \"come to the colonies, the planets of romance\". She sends a letter to the address at the bottom of the poster. \nRuby Johnson is caught stealing a dress from a department store. At her criminal hearing, a judge sentences her to either ten years in prison, with a ten thousand dollar fine to work off, or a chance to go to the colonies, and get a five hundred dollar bonus. \nSuzanne Carstens leaves her gorgeous apartment one night to meet a blind date (or a John) it seems. She goes to an address that looks like an office building, where a young man greets her. She is taken into a room where she is held, along with many other women. They are all given the same ultimatum as Ruby Johnson. \nTHE END."
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and didn't look at her. "You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock." "I can take it." Suddenly she smiled, wanly. "I was with the Fleet. How long will it take?" "Eight days, in that ship." Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Peterson was harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small ship meant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days in that untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl and Gladney. "Who was that ... man? The one you put out?" Gray
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
asked. "We call him Rat," Roberds said. She didn't ask why. She said: "Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean? What is his record?" Peterson opened his mouth. "Shut up, Peterson!" the Chief snapped. "We don't talk about his record around here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell." "Stow it, Chief," said Peterson. "Miss Gray is no pantywaist." He turned to the nurse. "Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?" Patti Gray paled. "Yes," she whispered. "Was Rat in that?" Roberds shook his head. "He didn't take part in it. But Rat was attached to a very
many days?" His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of those inhuman eyes. She fell face first to the floor. "I can't keep it up!" she cried. The sound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. "I cant! I cant!" A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. "Get up!" Rat stood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. "Get up!" She stared at him, dazed. He kicked her. "Get up!" The tepid water ran off her face and far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Rat was
moving things had unnerved him. He had already sounded the alert, flicked out the defense screens. Now he had nothing to do. He tried to concentrate on what the League Law would have him do. The Law was no help. Contact with planet-bound races was forbidden under any circumstances. But could a bunch of robots be called a race? The Law said nothing about robots because Earthmen had none. The building of imaginative robots was expressly forbidden. But at any rate, Steffens thought, he had made contact already. While Steffens stood by the screen, completely bewildered for the first time
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Describe the relationship between Captain Midas and Mister Spinelli.
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Captain Midas by Alfred Coppel.
Relevant chunks:
A CITY NEAR CENTAURUS By BILL DOEDE Illustrated by WEST [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Magazine October 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] The city was sacred, but not to its gods. Michaelson was a god—but far from sacred! Crouched in the ancient doorway like an animal peering out from his burrow, Mr. Michaelson saw the native. At first he was startled, thinking it might be someone else from the Earth settlement who had discovered the old city before him. Then he saw the glint of
information. Strangely, the messages indicated need for haste did not prod Kaiser. He knew now that the job could be done, perhaps in a few hours' time. And the Soscites II would not complete its orbit of the planet for two weeks yet. Without putting on more than the shirt and trousers he had grown used to wearing, Kaiser went outside and wandered listlessly about the vicinity of the ship for several hours. When he became hungry, he went back inside. Another message came in as he finished eating. This one was from the captain himself: WHY HAVE WE RECEIVED
a bowl of chowder and, as an afterthought, to buy half a dozen newspapers. The sea was bright, the brisk wind just right for the Annie O. There was eagerness in the way it smacked the sail and in the creak of the mast. And when he reached the cove, it was no longer still, but nervous with faint ripples, as if time had finally begun to stir. After the same struggle with the underbrush, he came out on the rocky spine and passed the cove of the sea urchins. The spiny creatures struck an uncomfortable chord in his memory.
expanse of sails would naturally not retard the ship. More radioactive ribbon, manufactured as needed in the ship itself, would feed out onto the sail as that already there became exhausted. A spaceship with direct nuclear drive—and he, a Thinker, had conceived it completely except for the technical details! Having strengthened his mind by hard years of somno-learning, mind-casting, memory-straightening, and sensory training, he had assured himself of the executive power to control the technicians and direct their specialized abilities. Together they would build the true Mars rocket. But that would only be a beginning. They would build the true
a comparison of the drawings with those of the obsolete Mark XXXV battle cruiser used two hundred years earlier by the Concordiat Naval Arm showed them to be almost identical, gun emplacements and all. The term "obsolete" was a relative one. A ship which had been outmoded in the armories of the Galactic Powers could still be king of the walk in the Eastern Arm. But how had these two known of the film? There had been no one present but himself and the old-timer—and he was willing to bet the elderly Fustian hadn't told them anything. At least not
Question:
Describe the relationship between Captain Midas and Mister Spinelli.
Answer:
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[
"Mister Spinelli is Third Officer under the command of Captain Midas and was the first to report the derelict ship and observe its potential to be claimed by the Maid. Spinelli is the first and only crew member to identify the metal from the abandoned ship as gold when he saw Captain Midas with it. The tension between Midas and Spinelli escalates and their relationship becomes antagonistic as both of them desire to benefit the most from this valuable gold and with Midas constantly pulling his authority over Spinelli. After Midas barrs him from being a part of the investigative crew, suspicion arises between the two as Spinelli suspects Midas wishes to keep the pot of gold for himself and Midas thinks that Spinelli may be telling others. This tension further escalates as Midas sees Spinelli nearly hit the trigger of the gun and in rage, the two end up fighting each other before Midas aimed a kick at his temple and killed him. \n",
"Captain Midas knows about Mister Spinelli’s hunger for money and gold. When the officer noticed the chunk of gold on Midas’ table, the captain started analyzing what the crewman could do. He refused to allow Spinelli to go aboard the derelict, and from this point, their relationship became tense. The crewman suspected the captain of an intention to take all the gold. Midas saw that Spinelli told Zaleski about gold and sent several other crew members to the derelict with Zaleski and Cohn to avoid double-crossing or mutiny. When they left, he realized that Spinelli aimed the Maid’s firing projector at the derelict and the crew members there in case they decided to betray Spinelli. Midas got angry but decided to leave this way. When their colleagues sent a message about the lost control and then stopped answering, Spinelli became mad. Midas attempted to keep Spinelli in control, but the man was already approaching the firing panel. Spinelli got an order to leave the control room, but he exploded and attacked his superior. In an aggressive fight, Midas killed his team member. ",
"The relationship between Captain Midas and Mister Spinelli changes from supportive to hostile throughout the story. When Mister Spinelli finds the massive derelict in the space, he reports back to Captain Midas. He actively suggests searching over the hulk, where his relationship with Captain Midas is superior-subordinate and obeying. However, when Captain Midas finds out that the mysterious metal sought from the derelict can somehow turn into gold, which Mister Spinelli witnesses, their greed sprouts the tension and suspicion between them as they start to suspect each other of trying to have the gold by themselves. The first tension arises when Captain Midas does not allow Mister Spinelli to move the hulk. In addition, Mister Spinelli disobeys Captain Midas’s order not to tell other crew members about the metal. The second tension arises when Mister Spinelli uses the weapon on the spaceship pointing toward the derelict to ensure no one can steal his share of the metal. Captain Midas is raged about his action at first, but he accepts that. The last tension arises when they lose the signal from other crew members, causing them to suspect the betrayal of other members. From then on, Mister Spinelli attacks Captain Midas, and they fight until Captain Midas kills Mister Spinelli. Until this point, their relationship is hostile and competitive in the sense of the ownership of the metal.",
"Captain Midas and Mister Spinelli initially get along fine. Spinelli listens to all of his orders, and the Captain considers him to be a reliable member of the crew. There is no sense of hostility between them, and he even agrees with Spinelli’s proposal to look the ship over. However, this relationship later sours once Spinelli finds out that the discovered ship is made out of gold. The captain is wary because Spinelli is big and dangerous, preferring to keep an eye on him in case anything goes wrong. Spinelli, on the other hand, is suspicious of the captain and goes off to tell Zaleski even though the captain said to not mention the gold to any of the rest of the crew. The captain threatens to clap Spinelli to irons, but this threat does not work because the Third Officer chooses to disobey his orders anyways. Later, Spinelli and the captain get into conflict again, with Spinelli accusing the captain that he was planning to keep all of the treasure for himself. Spinelli assumes that everybody is faking it to keep the ship, but the captain knocks him away. The two of them fight brutally, and Captain Midas has to end up killing Spinelli. "
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A CITY NEAR CENTAURUS By BILL DOEDE Illustrated by WEST [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Magazine October 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] The city was sacred, but not to its gods. Michaelson was a god—but far from sacred! Crouched in the ancient doorway like an animal peering out from his burrow, Mr. Michaelson saw the native. At first he was startled, thinking it might be someone else from the Earth settlement who had discovered the old city before him. Then he saw the glint of
information. Strangely, the messages indicated need for haste did not prod Kaiser. He knew now that the job could be done, perhaps in a few hours' time. And the Soscites II would not complete its orbit of the planet for two weeks yet. Without putting on more than the shirt and trousers he had grown used to wearing, Kaiser went outside and wandered listlessly about the vicinity of the ship for several hours. When he became hungry, he went back inside. Another message came in as he finished eating. This one was from the captain himself: WHY HAVE WE RECEIVED
a bowl of chowder and, as an afterthought, to buy half a dozen newspapers. The sea was bright, the brisk wind just right for the Annie O. There was eagerness in the way it smacked the sail and in the creak of the mast. And when he reached the cove, it was no longer still, but nervous with faint ripples, as if time had finally begun to stir. After the same struggle with the underbrush, he came out on the rocky spine and passed the cove of the sea urchins. The spiny creatures struck an uncomfortable chord in his memory.
expanse of sails would naturally not retard the ship. More radioactive ribbon, manufactured as needed in the ship itself, would feed out onto the sail as that already there became exhausted. A spaceship with direct nuclear drive—and he, a Thinker, had conceived it completely except for the technical details! Having strengthened his mind by hard years of somno-learning, mind-casting, memory-straightening, and sensory training, he had assured himself of the executive power to control the technicians and direct their specialized abilities. Together they would build the true Mars rocket. But that would only be a beginning. They would build the true
a comparison of the drawings with those of the obsolete Mark XXXV battle cruiser used two hundred years earlier by the Concordiat Naval Arm showed them to be almost identical, gun emplacements and all. The term "obsolete" was a relative one. A ship which had been outmoded in the armories of the Galactic Powers could still be king of the walk in the Eastern Arm. But how had these two known of the film? There had been no one present but himself and the old-timer—and he was willing to bet the elderly Fustian hadn't told them anything. At least not
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What is the plot of the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Control Group by Roger D. Aycock.
Relevant chunks:
explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
forty years ago or more. Resembled one? It was one! Unquestionably, though half-invisible and like a piece of glass immersed in water, it was a rocket ship. But the instruments on the control board could not lie. The presence of any material body within a hundred thousand miles would be revealed. But the needle on the gauge did not quiver. Nothing indicated the presence of a ship. But the evidence of his eyes was incontestable. Or was it? Doubt gripped him. Did the loneliness of all these years in space twist his mind till he was imagining the appearance of
"Get somebody—maybe even the President—on all radio and TV networks. Explain frankly about the four-centers and warn against licking any stamps. Then—" He broke off as his phone rang. Answering, he listened for a moment, then hung up and said, "But before the big announcement, get somebody checking on the security clearances at whatever plant it is where they print stamps. This's a big deal. Somebody may've been planted years ago for this operation. It shouldn't be too hard. "But there's no evidence it was a plot yet. Could be pure accident—some chemical in the stickum spoiled. Do they keep
deathly ill, but nobody dying. And doctors can't identify the poison until they have a fatality for an autopsy. People stricken in every part of the country, but the water systems are pure. How does it spread?" "In food?" "How? There must be hundreds of canneries and dairies and packing plants over the country. How could they all goof at the same time—even if it was sabotage?" "On the wind?" "But who could accurately predict every wind over the entire country—even Alaska and Hawaii—without hitting Canada or Mexico? And why wouldn't everybody get it in a given area?" Bettijean's smooth
Question:
What is the plot of the story?
Answer:
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[
"The story is set in the fourth millennium, and humans have invented a technology - the Ringwave propulsion-communication principle - that allows them to explore the neighboring cosmic systems. In the past, they were invaded by an alien species called Hymenops, or the Bees, who enslaved Terrans, and tried to colonize other planets but unexpectedly left years later. The crew members of the spaceship Marco Four are on a mission looking for the slave colonies that were abandoned by the Bees. Farrell, the navigator, is arguing with captain Stryker, Gibson - an engineer - and Xavier, the ship’s mechanic, and is trying to convince them to land on Alphard Six and claiming the planet is not inhabited. Stryker reminds him about the importance of vigilance on unexplored territories and tells Farrell to find a reconnaissance spiral. Something resembling an atomic torpedo explodes near the ship, rocking it. Later, the crew starts discussing who can possibly live on Alphard Six. They know that in the year 3000, there was no one on the planet. The ones who attacked them might be the Hymenopes or some Terrans enslaved by them, or even an unknown alien culture. The screen shows a town with a thousand buildings and a prehistoric ship with rocket propulsion. This ship seems to be eleven hundred years old, which is puzzling. This atomic-powered spaceship neither could’ve been constructed here nor could it have successfully traveled for hundreds of years. The area around Alphard Six was guarded by the Bees for several hundred years. So, it would be impossible for this ancient Terran ship to land on the planet without being detected by them. Farrell interrupts the discussion and suggests they go down and look. He gets on a helihopper, and Xavier quickly disappears in his scouter. The two other crew members left on the ship say that they just detected an electromagnetic vibration. Farrell notices a bonfire near the town. He is ready to report it when his helihopper suddenly jerks, a flare of electric discharge blinds him, and Farrell loses consciousness. He wakes up in an infirmary. A doctor speaks in unintelligible words and gestures to Farrell to follow him. While walking through the corridors of the ancient ship, he notices Xavier’s scouter, and later the Marco Four. Shocked, Farrell rapidly plunges inside the spaceship, and it darts up when suddenly Stryker appears from the sleeping cubicle and orders him to fly back. Gibson explains that Farrell piloted his helihopper into power lines and crashed. The Alphardians tried to communicate with the crew using an electromagnetic wave language and never attacked them. The Bees made the ancestors of these people believe that they were the descendants of an Earth expedition that perished a thousand years ago. The Alphardians don’t even know the Hymenops. Apparently, the Bees wanted to monitor the human species in a natural habitat. But they never understood human logic and after all, left all their colonies. ",
"Navigator Arthur Farrell is considered the youngest and most impulsive of the three-man Terran Reclamations crew. The crew has gone to the Alphard Six, which has a cool green disk. The other members of the crew are Stryker, Gibson, and Xavier. Stryker berates Farrell and begins citing the Reclamations Handbook about the rules regarding unreclaimed worlds. Farrell argues that it was never colonized, while Gibson looks up from his chess game and says there is no point in taking a chance of not encountering any of the Hymenops. Farrell says that they will never see a Hymenop, but Stryker says that he fought them for the better half of the century and still does not understand how they behave. They decide to find a reconnaissance spiral, despite Farrell grumbling. They examine whether anything is damaged on the Marco Four, after an explosion, and find that the only component that requires fixing is the Zero Transfer computer. Gibson explains that they cannot be Hymenops since the Bees put their faith in Ringwave energy fields. Although Stryker proposes colonists migrating from somewhere else, Gibson explains that it is impossible for the human slaves of the Hymenops to develop interstellar travel in four generations. Farrell volunteers to go down for the field work; Xavier announces that the planet is uninhabited except for a large island. There is a central city with a thousand buildings, and Farrell is relieved they are human. The power the people use runs on continuous fission, which surprises everyone. It is quite surprising for the crew to see an eleven-hundred year old Terran ship land on the planet. Stryker explains to Farrell that it had to be flown here because there are no materials on Alphard Six to create it. Gibson believes that the ship was built during the Twenty-second century, even though the atomic wars destroyed all historical records. Farrell decides that the only way is to go down and see for themselves. Xavier picks up an electromagnetic vibration pattern, and Farrell reports that he is passing over a hamlet nearest to the city. Suddenly, he is hit by an electric discharge and wakes up in an infirmary. A man comes and takes him out, despite speaking a different language, and he realizes that one of the old ventures had actually succeeded. He sees that the Marco Four has been grounded too and runs to the ship before pushing some controls to take off again. Stryker brings the ship down again, and Farrell is shocked because he thought they were shot down. It turns out that the Alphardians had been trying to send a distress signal. Gibson further explains that they had come from one of the first Bee colonies and were led to believe that their ship missed Sirius; however, the colonists are excited to enjoy assimilation. Although the Bees tried to set up the experiment to understand humans, the invaders failed at truly understanding them. ",
"This story follows a Terran Reclamations crew aboard the Marco Four as they search for Terran colonies previously enslaved and since abandoned by the Bees. As they travel around, a sudden atomic fire hits the ship and the crew hurry to figure out where it had come from and who potentially caused it. Debating between Hymenops, resurgent colonists, trans-Alphardians, or even a joint hallucination, the crew decide to investigate further. Xavier, the mechanical, surveys the planet and finds the landscape to be Terran, though with primitive technology at best. These findings leave them more confused than before, as they then debate how an eleven hundred years old ship could be there. \n\nDeciding then to investigate first-hand and see, Farrell goes into the helihopper and enters the colony. Just as Gibson encourages to go forward as it seems like the colony is communicating with them, Farrell crashes into an electrical line and falls unconscious. As he wakes up, Farrell is met by an unfamiliar medic and follows him out to a well-formed colony, marvelling at the presumed success of old ventures. However, he panics when he sees the Marco Four grounded and presumes his crewmates are in danger, and so he hurriedly rushes onboard and puts it in flight. Stryker stumbles out and takes them back down as Gibson quickly explains to Farrell the situation. It turns out that there is no danger at hand - the crash that landed Farrell unconscious was just an electrical line for the colony's hamlets. The colony, the Alphardians, are friendly and excited to be found. Although using Terran architecture and technology, these Alphardians were experimental human subjects by the Hymenops and observed by the Bees. The Bees chose to abandon their control colony when the Alphardians didn't show much - much like the old tale of Terrans not understanding alien culture either. In the end, the Alphardians are excited to assimilate into Terran colonists. ",
"A Terran Reclamation crew arrives Alphard Six to find Terran colonies enslaved and abandoned by the Bees, or Hymenops, an alien species who retreated a hundred years ago. When the youngest navigator, Farrell, attempts to planetfall without scouting the planet, the captain, Stryker, reminds him of the possible danger of the planet and the necessity of reconnaissance. After arguing with other crew members, Farrell finally accepts to scout the unobserved world first. However, they are suddenly attacked by a thing rising from the land below. After the examination, Gibson, the engineer, announces that the only damage is Zero Interval Transfer Computer, used to operate the Transfer jump in space. The repairing time takes a couple of hours. Stryker worries about the possible attack during the repairing time, so they dispute the potential situation of the planet, and none of the hypotheses, such as the Hymenops’ colorizations, Earthmen’s ancient colonization, or the resurgent Terran colonization, hold based on technological development. Stryker concludes that they have to investigate the land themselves. Farrell volunteers to be the one. They see the ground through magnoscanner, finding a damaged spaceship that served as a power supply with the prehistoric technology, namely atomic fission. According to Gibson, the atomic-powered ship was no longer built after the atomic wars in the twenty-second century; the damaged ship must either be flown or be built on the planet. His hypothesis is rejected by Stryker and Farrell based on the impossibility of the long-range travel capability of the atomic-powered spaceship. They continue their endless debate until Farrell takes the helihopper to investigate. Xavier, the mechanic, uses his drone to scout ahead of Farrell, but soon the scouter is detected by the people on the planet. They try to communicate with them with the electron beam. When Farrell reaches the end of the forest, entering the fields, he is suddenly struck and passes out. When he wakes up, he is in an infirmary; an anachronistic man comes in. He talks and gestures unintelligibly, but Farrell follows him out, seeing Xavier’s scouter with port open. When Farrell follows the man, he sees Marco Four landed with the port open. Held by the guess that these people may possess higher technology and capture all of them, Farrell rushes into Marco Four, closes the port, and rises. Stryker appears and comes to him with bewilderment, driving the spaceship to land again. It is later explained that Hymenops take these people as the experimental object. The damaged ship was an expedition ship, which failed its duty. Hymenops found its derelict during their invasion and colonization of Terran planets. They put these people on the planet, made them believe that their ancestors were the crewmembers of the damaged ship, and conducted this experiment as a control group, compared to other experiments on other planets."
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explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
forty years ago or more. Resembled one? It was one! Unquestionably, though half-invisible and like a piece of glass immersed in water, it was a rocket ship. But the instruments on the control board could not lie. The presence of any material body within a hundred thousand miles would be revealed. But the needle on the gauge did not quiver. Nothing indicated the presence of a ship. But the evidence of his eyes was incontestable. Or was it? Doubt gripped him. Did the loneliness of all these years in space twist his mind till he was imagining the appearance of
"Get somebody—maybe even the President—on all radio and TV networks. Explain frankly about the four-centers and warn against licking any stamps. Then—" He broke off as his phone rang. Answering, he listened for a moment, then hung up and said, "But before the big announcement, get somebody checking on the security clearances at whatever plant it is where they print stamps. This's a big deal. Somebody may've been planted years ago for this operation. It shouldn't be too hard. "But there's no evidence it was a plot yet. Could be pure accident—some chemical in the stickum spoiled. Do they keep
deathly ill, but nobody dying. And doctors can't identify the poison until they have a fatality for an autopsy. People stricken in every part of the country, but the water systems are pure. How does it spread?" "In food?" "How? There must be hundreds of canneries and dairies and packing plants over the country. How could they all goof at the same time—even if it was sabotage?" "On the wind?" "But who could accurately predict every wind over the entire country—even Alaska and Hawaii—without hitting Canada or Mexico? And why wouldn't everybody get it in a given area?" Bettijean's smooth
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What is the significance of the bagpipes?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Trouble on Tycho by Nelson S. Bond.
Relevant chunks:
touched the water to his lips. It was cool and satisfying. He drank it, convinced completely. Eric asked, "And I am to destroy the City?" "Yes. The time has come." "But why?" Eric demanded. For an instant he could see the twinkling beauty as clearly as if he had stood outside the walls of this building. Kroon said, "There are difficulties. The machine builds according to the mass will of the people, though it is sensitive to the individual in areas where it does not conflict with the imagination of the mass. We have had strangers, visitors, and even our
It is Eric of the Legend." He whirled the sword aloft, and smashed it upon Eric's metal hat, and the hatred was a blue flame in his eyes. When Eric regained consciousness the people of the city were all about him. They were very fair, and the women were more beautiful than music. Yet now they stared at him with red hate in their eyes. An older man came forward and struck at the copper hat with a stick. The clang deafened Eric and the man cried, "You are right. It is Eric the Bronze. Bring the ships and let
blue leopard skin, and he wore a belt with a jeweled short sword. He drew the sword from its scabbard, and bowed forward until the point of the sword touched the street of blue fur. He said, "I give you the welcome of my sword, and the welcome of the city. Speak your name so that it may be set in the records of the dreamers." The music sang, and the spires twinkled, and Eric said, "I am Eric North!" The sword point jerked, and the sentinel straightened. His face was white. He cried aloud, "It is Eric the Bronze.
fur street. Two men held his arms, and twisted painfully. The crowd looked at him, coldly, calculatingly. One of them said, "Get the whips. If we whip him he will not come back." The city twinkled, and the music was so faint he could hardly hear it. There was only one weapon Eric could use. He had gathered from Garve's words that these people were superstitious. He laughed, a great chest-shattering laugh that gusted out into the thin Martian air. He laughed and cried in a great voice, "And can you so easily dispose of a Legend? If I am
Eric of the Legend, can whips defeat the prophesy?" There was an instant when he could have twisted loose. They stood, fear-bound at his words. But there was no place to hide, and without the use of his weapons Eric could not have gone far. He had to bluff it out. Then one of the men cried, "Fools! It is true. We must take no chance with the whips. He would come back. But if he dies here before us now, then we may forget the prophesy." The crowd murmured and a second voice cried, "Get the sword, get the
Question:
What is the significance of the bagpipes?
Answer:
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[
"The bagpipes are Isobar’s one relief and a reminder of home. Isobar Jones hates his new job and position on Luna III and plays the bagpipes as a form of therapy. When they are taken away from him, he quickly revolts and rushes Outside to play once more. \nThough the bagpipes are initially only significant to Isobar, they quickly become the savior of the whole story. After Roberts and Brown run into Isobar, followed by Grannies, they climb a tree and hope for the best. Isobar plays the bagpipes as a way to alert those in the dome that they are outside, seeing as the air conditioning valve was near. However, as it turns out, the Grannies are able to hear, and the sound of the bagpipes slowly but surely killed them. The bagpipes saved Isobar’s life in multiple ways, as well as that of Roberts and Brown. They also proved to be a scientific breakthrough, as they are the only thing to ever kill a Grannie. \n",
"The bagpipes are Isobar's most cherished possession. Six months into his one-year term at Lunar III, Isobar begins to experience extreme homesickness, and he begins to loathe the artificial air-conditioning of the Experimental Dome as well as the rule against going Outside because of the threat of the \"Grannies.\" To keep himself sane, Isobar plays the bagpipes. However, the loud sound disturbs the other workers in the organization, and soon Commander Eagan orders Isobar to cease playing the bagpipes for the rest of his term. This causes Isobar to rebel, and he leaves the Dome against orders to play his bagpipes in peace. Once Outside, Isobar discovers Roberts and Brown are under attack by a group of Grannies, and he plays his bagpipes to try to alert \"Sparks\" that they are cornered up a tree. As a result of Isobar's music, the men discover the sound of the bagpipes not only calms the Grannies, but it also eventually kills them. Therefore, Isobar's insistence on playing the bagpipes leads to the discovery of a solid defense against the humans' primary threat on Luna.",
"Isobar is miserable while stationed at the Lunar III, and playing his bagpipes is the only pastime he has that he truly enjoys. He has been part of the Frontier Service for six months, and he regrets leaving Earth and the beautiful landscape to sit in a bubble day after day and breathe recycled air. His colleagues hate his music, and it’s difficult to stop the sounds from emanating all over the station because of the air conditioning vents. When he refuses to stop playing on multiple occasions, his Dome Commander institutes General Order 17, which is a ban on all musical instruments. Isobar does not take this news very well. He can’t suppress his anger at this news after being disappointed and depressed for a long stretch of time. Isobar argues that he should be able to go Outside and play, but of course that’s off-limits. The Grannies would almost surely attack him, and he’s forbidden from leaving unless it’s absolutely necessary. Isobar decides to ignore the rules because playing the bagpipes is what truly makes him happy. He tells the guard that’s working at the door to the Outside that he’s been sent to take his place. Instead of watching for Roberts and Brown, however, he slips outside with his pipes. After he sees his colleagues being attacked by the Grannies, he completely forgets about his instrument, but it’s a good thing that Roberts asks him about it, because the bagpipes actually save the trio’s lives. Isobar decides to play his instrument to alert his coworkers about the trouble he and Roberts and Brown are in, but by the time help arrives, they no longer need it. The Grannies are killed by the music, the one thing that all the humans hated with a passion. ",
"Isobar loves to play the bagpipes, but is discouraged by his colleagues, like when Sparks tells him not to bring them with the forecast he is delivering to him because of his sensitive eardrums. Doodlesack is the word his colleagues Riley and Sparks call the bagpipes to tease him. Later in the story, the Dome Commander Eagan actually cites a new rule he has made that practising musical instruments must be discontinued immediately by dome staff because the sound travels through the air conditioning system and annoys people. \nAfter Isobar smuggles the bagpipes Outside to play them and gets swept up in an near-death attack by the Grannies with Brown and Roberts that has them stuck up a tree waiting to die, his colleagues continue to tease him by saying they can’t even die in peace since he'll be playing the bagpipes.\nAlthough Isobar’s intention was to get help to come rescue them by playing the bagpipes and alerting Sparks in the nearby control tower to their danger with their loud sound, the story ends in an amazing twist instead. The bagpipe music is the only thing known to be capable of killing the Grannies. All the Grannies at the base of the tree layed down and died when the music was played, and Isobar’s hated musical instrument saves the day.\nMore than this, the Grannies are a barrier to humans being able to advance their colony on Luna, so Isobar’s discovery that the bagpipes are lethal might be an important key for progress.\n"
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touched the water to his lips. It was cool and satisfying. He drank it, convinced completely. Eric asked, "And I am to destroy the City?" "Yes. The time has come." "But why?" Eric demanded. For an instant he could see the twinkling beauty as clearly as if he had stood outside the walls of this building. Kroon said, "There are difficulties. The machine builds according to the mass will of the people, though it is sensitive to the individual in areas where it does not conflict with the imagination of the mass. We have had strangers, visitors, and even our
It is Eric of the Legend." He whirled the sword aloft, and smashed it upon Eric's metal hat, and the hatred was a blue flame in his eyes. When Eric regained consciousness the people of the city were all about him. They were very fair, and the women were more beautiful than music. Yet now they stared at him with red hate in their eyes. An older man came forward and struck at the copper hat with a stick. The clang deafened Eric and the man cried, "You are right. It is Eric the Bronze. Bring the ships and let
blue leopard skin, and he wore a belt with a jeweled short sword. He drew the sword from its scabbard, and bowed forward until the point of the sword touched the street of blue fur. He said, "I give you the welcome of my sword, and the welcome of the city. Speak your name so that it may be set in the records of the dreamers." The music sang, and the spires twinkled, and Eric said, "I am Eric North!" The sword point jerked, and the sentinel straightened. His face was white. He cried aloud, "It is Eric the Bronze.
fur street. Two men held his arms, and twisted painfully. The crowd looked at him, coldly, calculatingly. One of them said, "Get the whips. If we whip him he will not come back." The city twinkled, and the music was so faint he could hardly hear it. There was only one weapon Eric could use. He had gathered from Garve's words that these people were superstitious. He laughed, a great chest-shattering laugh that gusted out into the thin Martian air. He laughed and cried in a great voice, "And can you so easily dispose of a Legend? If I am
Eric of the Legend, can whips defeat the prophesy?" There was an instant when he could have twisted loose. They stood, fear-bound at his words. But there was no place to hide, and without the use of his weapons Eric could not have gone far. He had to bluff it out. Then one of the men cried, "Fools! It is true. We must take no chance with the whips. He would come back. But if he dies here before us now, then we may forget the prophesy." The crowd murmured and a second voice cried, "Get the sword, get the
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What is the plot of the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Holes and John Smith by Edward W. Ludwig.
Relevant chunks:
and didn't look at her. "You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock." "I can take it." Suddenly she smiled, wanly. "I was with the Fleet. How long will it take?" "Eight days, in that ship." Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Peterson was harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small ship meant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days in that untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl and Gladney. "Who was that ... man? The one you put out?" Gray
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
asked. "We call him Rat," Roberds said. She didn't ask why. She said: "Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean? What is his record?" Peterson opened his mouth. "Shut up, Peterson!" the Chief snapped. "We don't talk about his record around here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell." "Stow it, Chief," said Peterson. "Miss Gray is no pantywaist." He turned to the nurse. "Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?" Patti Gray paled. "Yes," she whispered. "Was Rat in that?" Roberds shook his head. "He didn't take part in it. But Rat was attached to a very
many days?" His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of those inhuman eyes. She fell face first to the floor. "I can't keep it up!" she cried. The sound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. "I cant! I cant!" A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. "Get up!" Rat stood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. "Get up!" She stared at him, dazed. He kicked her. "Get up!" The tepid water ran off her face and far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Rat was
moving things had unnerved him. He had already sounded the alert, flicked out the defense screens. Now he had nothing to do. He tried to concentrate on what the League Law would have him do. The Law was no help. Contact with planet-bound races was forbidden under any circumstances. But could a bunch of robots be called a race? The Law said nothing about robots because Earthmen had none. The building of imaginative robots was expressly forbidden. But at any rate, Steffens thought, he had made contact already. While Steffens stood by the screen, completely bewildered for the first time
Question:
What is the plot of the story?
Answer:
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[
"The setting is primarily at an event space called the Space Room. Jimmie Stanley and his band perform there. They are sitting in the cocktail lounge waiting for the replacement for their fiddle player to arrive. Their boss, Ke-teeli, is upset that the fiddle player is not yet there. He is threatening to not let them play at the venue anymore. Eventually, their replacement player arrives at the venue. However, Jimmie has serious doubts that man will be able to play well because his instrument does not look like a fiddle and he appears disheveled. When the band does play with the new member, John Smith, he and his instrument – the Zloomph – sounds amazing. The audience shows a good reception as does the boss. \n\nJimmie wants John to join the band, but John has other concerns. He continuously mentions holes and seems obsessed over finding holes. Eventually, Jimmie learns why John is interested in holes. John claims that he accidentally went through a hole and left his time dimension. He is in search of holes in order to find his original time dimension. Jimmie attempts to play along with John’s claims and even offers to let John stay at his apartment in order to entice him to join the band. John continues to drink beer and talk about holes during the story. \n\nOne night, Jimmie returns back to his apartment and finds John drunk on the floor. He takes John, and the instrument, outside to calm John down. When they go outside, John and his instrument fall through a hole and are not seen again. Jimmie and the rest of the band assume that John managed to find his way back to his own time zone. \n",
"Jimmie Stanley is the piano player in a band, and the story begins at The Space Room where the band is waiting for a temporary bass fiddle man to arrive. This is because the original bass fiddle man, Ziggy, injured his fingers. The boss Ke-teeli does not seem to like their music that much. Now that a member is missing and the replacement player has not yet arrived, the boss starts to doubt that the three members of the band can perform good music. He doesn’t think that the customers will be satisfied. The band’s contract with the boss ends this week, and the boss does not seem to want to continue the contract. Finally, the temporary bass fiddle player arrives with his instrument. He introduces himself as John Smith and tells them that he is late because he was working on his plan. At first, Jimmie doubt that the ancient bass fiddle can make any beautiful sound. But he becomes very surprised once he hears the beautiful music. The audiences are focused and intrigued by the music. Even the boss becomes delight after hearing the music. Later, John begins to notice the holes on the clarinet and the piano, which seems quite odd to the band. Noting his talents in music and the facial expression on the boss’ face, Jimmie asks John to play for the long term. But John rejects stating that he needs to work on his plan. John mentions that there are many holes in the universe, but he cannot find the right one to go back to prove a point to the University. Believing that Jimmie understands him, he decides to play with the band. The boss agrees to give them the contract if John stays. For the next few days, John becomes popular and then a reporter come to interview him. After telling the reporter about the holes, the reporter decides to leave. Then John tells the band that he will stay until tomorrow. The next day, John is gone. The band searched everywhere, but is not able to find him. ",
"An Earth music band of four is supposed to play at The Space Room on Mars, but the bass man is injured. The band boss, Ke-teeli, is discontented with the group and won't prolong the contract, he wants to cancel the concert. Jimmie Stanley, the leader of the band, is waiting for the bass man's replacement to save the band. If the band loses the job, they have nowhere to go. After a while of waiting, a huge monstrosity enters The Space Room accompanied by a little guy in a suit, a matchstick. The newcomer is John Smith, the bass man from Mars, who is late because he has been working on his plan of getting back home. When the band starts playing, everyone is enchanted with John's playing, which is the best and the most unique sound they've ever heard. During the intermission, John mentions that his fiddle is over five thousand years old but its hole isn't right for going home. Jimmie is confused with this and the band continues playing. John stares at the holes in the instruments of the rest of the band. At intermission Jimmie offers John a drink to urge him to join the band. John is unwilling to accept the offer as he is more interested in history and his plan than in music. Turns out he fell into a hole a while ago and now he can't get back to his time dimension. For three days John plays with the band and talks of holes to Jimmie, whom he sees as an understanding person. Then John is interviewed and the reporter won't listen about his holes, so he decides to quit the band and continue searching for them. Next day Jimmie leaves for a while thinking about how to urge the bass man to stay, and when he returns, John is drunk with beer. The two go out and suddenly John disappears. The band can't find him anywhere and their contract ends. \n",
"The story begins on a Saturday night at The Space Room. Jimmie Stanley and two other members of his band are sitting in the bandstand of the cocktail lounge. The bass fiddle man, Ziggy, is not present because he had almost sliced his fingers off while opening a can of Santurnian ice-fish. The boss Ke-teeli, also known as Goon-Face, is furious that no music is being played at the establishment. They explain that a Marsport local has been called a stand-in for the bassist, while Ke-teeli is suspicious. John Smith from the Marsport union comes in shortly after. Jimmie is intimidated by his bass fiddle, and John Smith explains that he knows how to play everything. As they begin playing, John Smith plays a whole chord with each beat on his bass. The customers are in some trance, and even bland-faced Martians begin nodding in time to the rhythm. After their performance, John Smith explains that his instrument is over five thousand years old, and it is not a fiddle but the only Zloomph in existence. He points out the holes on the other band member’s instruments. Jimmie tries to convince him to join the combo, but John explains that he does not care much for playing even when Jimmie offers to share his apartment. He is focused on his plan, which involves studying holes and how they relate to the universe. John further explains that he fell through his time dimension while hurrying back to the University with his Zloomph to prove something in ancient history. Jimmie agrees to listen to him if he plays with them, which makes John extremely happy. John becomes extremely popular with all of the customers, and Goon-Face tells Jimmie that they will continue to have their contract if the bass fiddle man stays. A reporter approaches John for an interview over beer, and he tries to tell him his plan. However, it turns out that the reporter does not understand, and John is down again. Fat Boy exclaims that they are also working on a plan in an attempt to make him stay. As Jimmie thinks about what can make John stay, he comes up with a variety of plans. As he returns to his apartment in the early afternoon, he finds John squatting on the floor and surrounded by beer bottles. John is scared because he is covered in holes, but Jimmie is not convinced and takes him out to get some fresh air. It is four AM in the morning; suddenly, John disappears through the manhole with his Zloomph. Jimmie jumps into it after him, but he has completely disappeared without a trace. Goon-Face does not offer them another contract, and they desperately search everywhere for John. Ziggy, now healed, signs up for a trip to the uranium pits, and Jimmie is furious at whoever let John back to his time dimension. However, he knows that they cannot sue the city without a corpus delecti. "
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and didn't look at her. "You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock." "I can take it." Suddenly she smiled, wanly. "I was with the Fleet. How long will it take?" "Eight days, in that ship." Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Peterson was harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small ship meant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days in that untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl and Gladney. "Who was that ... man? The one you put out?" Gray
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
asked. "We call him Rat," Roberds said. She didn't ask why. She said: "Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean? What is his record?" Peterson opened his mouth. "Shut up, Peterson!" the Chief snapped. "We don't talk about his record around here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell." "Stow it, Chief," said Peterson. "Miss Gray is no pantywaist." He turned to the nurse. "Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?" Patti Gray paled. "Yes," she whispered. "Was Rat in that?" Roberds shook his head. "He didn't take part in it. But Rat was attached to a very
many days?" His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of those inhuman eyes. She fell face first to the floor. "I can't keep it up!" she cried. The sound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. "I cant! I cant!" A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. "Get up!" Rat stood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. "Get up!" She stared at him, dazed. He kicked her. "Get up!" The tepid water ran off her face and far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Rat was
moving things had unnerved him. He had already sounded the alert, flicked out the defense screens. Now he had nothing to do. He tried to concentrate on what the League Law would have him do. The Law was no help. Contact with planet-bound races was forbidden under any circumstances. But could a bunch of robots be called a race? The Law said nothing about robots because Earthmen had none. The building of imaginative robots was expressly forbidden. But at any rate, Steffens thought, he had made contact already. While Steffens stood by the screen, completely bewildered for the first time
|
Describe the setting of the story.
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Highest Mountain by Bryce Walton.
Relevant chunks:
The Beast-Jewel of Mars By V. E. THIESSEN The city was strange, fantastic, beautiful. He'd never been there before, yet already he was a fabulous legend—a dire, hateful legend. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Spring 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] He lay on his stomach, a lean man in faded one piece dungarees, and an odd metallic hat, peering over the side of the canal. Behind him the little winds sifted red dust into his collar, but he could not move; he could only
Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science Fiction June 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. THE VALLEY By Richard Stockham Illustrated by Ed Emsh If you can't find it countless millions of miles in space, come back to Earth. You might find it just on the other side of the fence—where the grass is always greener. The Ship dove into Earth's sea of atmosphere like a great, silver fish. Inside the ship, a man and woman stood looking down at the expanse of land that
the uneven terrain. "Oh, the bag!" she gasped. "I've dropped it." He chuckled again. "Have got. You scare, I catch." She didn't see the ship because of the wind in her eyes, but without warning she plummeted down and her feet jarred on the lip of the lock. "Inside. No noise, no light. Easy." But in spite of his warning she tripped in the darkness. He helped her from the floor and guided her to the hammocks. "Judith?" she asked. "Here. Beside you, trussed up so tight I can hardly breathe." "No talk!" Rat insisted. "Much hush-hush needed. Other girl
dumbly. "Would you prefer to use your—skiff? It is quite a long way from here." It was indeed a long way, even by skiff. Some of the Aliencon crew went along with them. And near the edge of the twilight zone, on the other side of the world, they saw the Factory outlined in the dim light of dusk. A huge, fantastic block, wrought of gray and cloudy metal, lay in a valley between two worn mountains. Steffens went down low, circling in the skiff, stared in awe at the size of the building. Robots moved outside the thing, little
An elaborate description of the boy in great detail followed, ending with blood type, agglutinating characteristic, and gene-pattern, codified. Walton skipped impatiently through that and came to the notification typed in curt, impersonal green capital letters at the bottom of the card: EXAMINED AT N Y EUTH CLINIC 10 JUNE 2332 EUTHANASIA RECOMMENDED He glanced at his watch: the time was 1026. The boy was probably still somewhere in the clinic lab, waiting for the figurative axe to descend. Walton had set up the schedule himself: the gas chamber delivered Happysleep each day at 1100 and 1500. He had about
Question:
Describe the setting of the story.
Answer:
|
[
"At the beginning, Jacobs, Bruce, and Anhauser talk aboard their ship Mars V which recently landed on the windy surface of Mars. Bruce then looks at the even Martian landscape with an incredible mountain right near the ship and the double moons illuminating the surface. When everybody else leaves to climb the mountain, he spends his time on the spaceship, eating, sleeping, and sitting by the radio. Bruce dreams of a green valley and canals inside a town. And later, when the crew stops reporting anything, he finally can see the real landscape of Mars. He looks at numerous low hills with purple mist, a canal, and valleys with green trees. The mountain disappeared. A quarter of a mile beyond the canal, there is an ugly red mound with the bodies of the conquerors lying there. After looking at Marsha and Terrence, together with Helene, he walks along the canal back to the city. \n",
"The story is set on Mars; it is originally shown as a dead planet with nothing but smooth, red hills caused by erosion. However, there is a mountain too that is around 45,000 feet. Mars also has double moons and is extremely cold. On Mars, there are also five ships from the Conquerors in their attempts to try and take total control of Mars. When Bruce has his dreams, the martian landscape changes to one of green valleys and rivers. There are wide canals, odd trees trailing their branches on the gliding rivers. There is also a pastel–colored city that seems completely different from the Mars that the crew arrived to conquer. Later, it is revealed that this landscape is actually real because the fake Mars was just an illusion that the Martians set up using their powers to mess with the mind. The mountain does not exist either, having served its purpose of eliminating each group of Conquerors. ",
"This story is set on Mars. However, the Mars that the Conquerers see and the real Mars is different. \n\nThe Mars that the crew initially see lifeless, barren and has a flat landscape with only a mountain estimated at 45,000 feet standing out. There are four rockets - prior attempts at conquering Mars - lay side by side the mountain. \n\nThe real Mars that is revealed to Bruce is vastly different. It had lush green valleys and rivers and wide canals with slow currents. There were inhabited cities that are pastel-colored and overall, the atmosphere was soft, vibrant and lovely. Beyond the canal, the red mountain still stands. By the red mountain, the remains of the bodies of the crew of the first four ships lie as skeletons. The dead bodies of Bruce's crewmates also lie there - all still tied together by the rope. ",
"The story happens on Mars. There are two moons on Mars. There is a tremendously high mountain where the top seems nowhere to be seen, and the four rockets sent before the fifth rock lie in its shadow. The landscape on Mars is smoothed with red eroded hills, except for the mountain, which is unexpected in height and points toward Earth. In Bruce’s dream, which turns out to be the real Mars, the landscape on Mars is totally different. There are green valleys, wide canals, trees, and cities decorated with flowers. Behind the shelter, five rockets lie beside it. There is no mountain in the dream, only a high mound of the red hill with corpses lying on it."
] |
50868
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The Beast-Jewel of Mars By V. E. THIESSEN The city was strange, fantastic, beautiful. He'd never been there before, yet already he was a fabulous legend—a dire, hateful legend. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Spring 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] He lay on his stomach, a lean man in faded one piece dungarees, and an odd metallic hat, peering over the side of the canal. Behind him the little winds sifted red dust into his collar, but he could not move; he could only
Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science Fiction June 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. THE VALLEY By Richard Stockham Illustrated by Ed Emsh If you can't find it countless millions of miles in space, come back to Earth. You might find it just on the other side of the fence—where the grass is always greener. The Ship dove into Earth's sea of atmosphere like a great, silver fish. Inside the ship, a man and woman stood looking down at the expanse of land that
the uneven terrain. "Oh, the bag!" she gasped. "I've dropped it." He chuckled again. "Have got. You scare, I catch." She didn't see the ship because of the wind in her eyes, but without warning she plummeted down and her feet jarred on the lip of the lock. "Inside. No noise, no light. Easy." But in spite of his warning she tripped in the darkness. He helped her from the floor and guided her to the hammocks. "Judith?" she asked. "Here. Beside you, trussed up so tight I can hardly breathe." "No talk!" Rat insisted. "Much hush-hush needed. Other girl
dumbly. "Would you prefer to use your—skiff? It is quite a long way from here." It was indeed a long way, even by skiff. Some of the Aliencon crew went along with them. And near the edge of the twilight zone, on the other side of the world, they saw the Factory outlined in the dim light of dusk. A huge, fantastic block, wrought of gray and cloudy metal, lay in a valley between two worn mountains. Steffens went down low, circling in the skiff, stared in awe at the size of the building. Robots moved outside the thing, little
An elaborate description of the boy in great detail followed, ending with blood type, agglutinating characteristic, and gene-pattern, codified. Walton skipped impatiently through that and came to the notification typed in curt, impersonal green capital letters at the bottom of the card: EXAMINED AT N Y EUTH CLINIC 10 JUNE 2332 EUTHANASIA RECOMMENDED He glanced at his watch: the time was 1026. The boy was probably still somewhere in the clinic lab, waiting for the figurative axe to descend. Walton had set up the schedule himself: the gas chamber delivered Happysleep each day at 1100 and 1500. He had about
|
Describe Venus and the creatures on its surface.
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Lost Tribes of Venus by Erik Fennel.
Relevant chunks:
twenty-nine miles below the surface, the delvers have encountered a metallic obstruction which they have tentatively named the durasphere. It resists their hardest drills, their strongest corrosives. They have extended a side-tunnel at that level for a quarter of a mile. Delicate measurements, made possible by the mirror-smooth metal surface, show that the durasphere has a slight curvature that is almost exactly equal to the curvature of the Earth itself. The suggestion is that deep borings made anywhere in the world would encounter the durasphere at the same depth. "Second, the movements of the moons of Mars and Jupiter, and
title, The Dance of the Planets . There was no mistaking the time of its origin; only paper from the Twentieth Century aged to that particularly nasty shade of brown. Indeed, the book seemed to Celeste a brown old witch resurrected from the Last Age of Madness to confound a world growing sane, and she couldn't help shrinking back a trifle toward her husband Theodor. He tried to come to her rescue. "Only predicted in the vaguest way. As I understand it, Kometevsky claimed, on the basis of a lot of evidence drawn from folklore, that the planets and their
The Dance of the Planets . "That about winds up the story for the present. There are no new reports from Interplanetary Radar, Astronomy, or the other rocket ships searching in the extended Mars volume. Nor have any statements been issued by the various groups working on the problem in Astrophysics, Cosmic Ecology, the Congress for the Discovery of New Purposes, and so forth. Meanwhile, however, we can take courage from the words of a poem written even before Dr. Kometevsky's book: "This Earth is not the steadfast place We landsmen build upon; From deep to deep she varies pace,
camouflage." This time he went on, "Fantasy writers have at times hinted all sorts of odd things about the Earth—that it might even be a kind of single living creature, or honeycombed with inhabited caverns, and so on. But I don't know that any of them have ever suggested that the Earth, together with all the planets and moons of the Solar System, might be...." In a whisper, Frieda finished for him, "... a camouflaged fleet of gigantic spherical spaceships." " Your guess happens to be the precise truth. " At that familiar, yet dreadly unfamiliar voice, all four of
eyes of astronomy weren't on them. Just some hundred-odd cubic miles of rock—the merest cosmic flyspecks—yet they had carried away with them the security of a whole world. Looking at the lovely garden landscape around her, Celeste Wolver felt that in a moment the shrubby hills would begin to roll like waves, the charmingly aimless paths twist like snakes and sink in the green sea, the sparsely placed skyscrapers dissolve into the misty clouds they pierced. People must have felt like this , she thought, when Aristarches first hinted and Copernicus told them that the solid Earth under their feet
Question:
Describe Venus and the creatures on its surface.
Answer:
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[
"Venus is a hot and muggy planet, most comparable to certain areas of South America. The air is so moist and hot that many of the colonists when arrived felt as though they were melting or wading through a swamp. Much of the planet is covered in swamps and marshes, while only a small portion is made up of solid rock or land. The air teems with buzzing insects and creatures roam the surface of the planet. Large vegetarian Venusian creatures roam solid ground, and, though they aren’t going to eat the humans, their humongous size can make them a danger to have around. Different creatures reside in the swamps and oceans as well. Flesh-eating worms lie deep in the swamps, while humanoid Venusians live out in the open ocean. ",
"Venus has a climate like a tropical swamp, sweltering and extremely humid, and the air is thick with the foul odor of decaying plants. Much of the planet is covered with swamps and mud so that the colony has to set up on a rock ledge that rises out of the marsh. Days on Venus last 82 hours. Trees grow in the marshes, and there are areas of quicksand covered with green algae that look like grassy plains. Some plants are edible by humans, but there is also a plant with a poisonous thorn that killed a man. Plants grow rapidly due to the climate. The stagnant slough drains into a waveless, saltwater ocean. Approximately half of the surface is covered with water. The land areas are either rocky ledges or jungle-covered swamps. Tests indicate that there are traces of oil and radioactive minerals. \n\tMany different types of creatures live on Venus. In the marsh, there are creatures that slither and crawl, swim, and fly. Gigantic insects fly around but are harmless and avoid the humans. There are varied creatures in the swamps; the ones that look harmless tend to be the most venomous. One particularly interesting creature somewhat resembles the brontosauri of Earth and are amphibious, armored monsters. They are vegetarians and don’t bother the humans except that they can be clumsy and step on or fall against a human structure damaging it. In the early days, there is no sign of intelligent life, but some of the men report having a sense of being watched. One particularly bothersome creature is a fat worm that lives in the slough; when Barr is in the slough, these worms attach themselves to his eyelids and bite them, clinging to him like leeches.\n\tIn the ocean, however, Barr encounters human-like creatures like himself, with webbed fingers and toes. They wield weapons like spears and other tubelike weapons that fire underwater, creating a trail of bubbles as they move rapidly toward the prey. These human-like beings attack Barr, and he notices they wear clothes. They bleed a red substance when they are injured and have bones that Barr feels when he strikes one with a knife. There are both male and female creatures.\n",
"Venus is hot and extremely humid and covered with the aroma of decaying vegetation. The complete opposite of Mars' deserted, dry landscape, Venus is home to a wide variety of flora and fauna. Half of the planet is covered in water, including marshes, swamps, sloughs, and vast oceans with murky water. There are few areas of rock ledges where the crews of the Five Ship Plan build their colony. Many kinds of harmless insects fly about the swamps, but there are several poisonous plants, one of which kills a crew member from Number One. A species of massive, swamp-dwelling, amphibious, dinosaur-like creatures move about close to the makeshift colony; because of their lack of intelligence and immense, armored bodies, the creatures can be quite dangerous and actually have damaged one of the colony's buildings. When Barry first dives into the slough, he is immediately attacked by a horde of worms attempting to burrow into his skin. Later, he discovers the native Venusians, who look like humans, carry spears and tube-weapons, and move rapidly through the water with powerful bodies and webbed hands. ",
"Venus' surface is covered in mists and creatures unfamiliar to people from Earth. Dorothy Voorhees is a toxicologist and dietitian specifically assigned to the mission to guide the humans through the flora and fauna of Venus in a way that their digestive systems wouldn't entirely object to. The fact that she was hired points to the humans knowing they would face unknowns. The plants that had been discovered before Barry arrived were edible but not interesting. What looked like a grassy plain was really quicksand covered in algae, which meant the colonists had lost many supplies while making this discovery. The wood from the trees was used to create crafts, and various types of buildings and support structures. There is one piece of solid ground (rock, specifically) that the men were able to find, though it was still surrounded by swamps. In the heavy mists of the humid swamplands are a variety of insects that were far more annoying than harmful. There are larger creatures, too, the most exciting being large swamp creatures that resembled dinosaurs, who were vegetarian but large and dumb enough to pose great danger to the humans. \n"
] |
63932
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twenty-nine miles below the surface, the delvers have encountered a metallic obstruction which they have tentatively named the durasphere. It resists their hardest drills, their strongest corrosives. They have extended a side-tunnel at that level for a quarter of a mile. Delicate measurements, made possible by the mirror-smooth metal surface, show that the durasphere has a slight curvature that is almost exactly equal to the curvature of the Earth itself. The suggestion is that deep borings made anywhere in the world would encounter the durasphere at the same depth. "Second, the movements of the moons of Mars and Jupiter, and
title, The Dance of the Planets . There was no mistaking the time of its origin; only paper from the Twentieth Century aged to that particularly nasty shade of brown. Indeed, the book seemed to Celeste a brown old witch resurrected from the Last Age of Madness to confound a world growing sane, and she couldn't help shrinking back a trifle toward her husband Theodor. He tried to come to her rescue. "Only predicted in the vaguest way. As I understand it, Kometevsky claimed, on the basis of a lot of evidence drawn from folklore, that the planets and their
The Dance of the Planets . "That about winds up the story for the present. There are no new reports from Interplanetary Radar, Astronomy, or the other rocket ships searching in the extended Mars volume. Nor have any statements been issued by the various groups working on the problem in Astrophysics, Cosmic Ecology, the Congress for the Discovery of New Purposes, and so forth. Meanwhile, however, we can take courage from the words of a poem written even before Dr. Kometevsky's book: "This Earth is not the steadfast place We landsmen build upon; From deep to deep she varies pace,
camouflage." This time he went on, "Fantasy writers have at times hinted all sorts of odd things about the Earth—that it might even be a kind of single living creature, or honeycombed with inhabited caverns, and so on. But I don't know that any of them have ever suggested that the Earth, together with all the planets and moons of the Solar System, might be...." In a whisper, Frieda finished for him, "... a camouflaged fleet of gigantic spherical spaceships." " Your guess happens to be the precise truth. " At that familiar, yet dreadly unfamiliar voice, all four of
eyes of astronomy weren't on them. Just some hundred-odd cubic miles of rock—the merest cosmic flyspecks—yet they had carried away with them the security of a whole world. Looking at the lovely garden landscape around her, Celeste Wolver felt that in a moment the shrubby hills would begin to roll like waves, the charmingly aimless paths twist like snakes and sink in the green sea, the sparsely placed skyscrapers dissolve into the misty clouds they pierced. People must have felt like this , she thought, when Aristarches first hinted and Copernicus told them that the solid Earth under their feet
|
How is the theme of marriage explored throughout the story?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Prime Difference by Alan Edward Nourse.
Relevant chunks:
A wayfarer's return from a far country to his wife and family may be a shining experience, a kind of second honeymoon. Or it may be so shadowed by Time's relentless tyranny that the changes which have occurred in his absence can lead only to tragedy and despair. This rarely discerning, warmly human story by a brilliant newcomer to the science fantasy field is told with no pulling of punches, and its adroit unfolding will astound you. the hoofer by ... Walter M. Miller, Jr. A space rover has no business with a family. But what can a man in
explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
a family, but what was a man going to do? Take a skinning knife, boy, and make yourself a eunuch. But that was no good either. They needed bulls out there in the pit, not steers. And when a man came down from a year's hitch, what was he going to do? Live in a lonely shack and read books for kicks? Because you were a man, you sought out a woman. And because she was a woman, she got a kid, and that was the end of it. It was nobody's fault, nobody's at all. He stared at the
CAPTAIN MIDAS By ALFRED COPPEL, JR. The captain of the Martian Maid stared avidly at the torn derelict floating against the velvet void. Here was treasure beyond his wildest dreams! How could he know his dreams should have been nightmares? [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Fall 1949. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Gold! A magic word, even today, isn't it? Lust and gold ... they go hand in hand. Like the horsemen of the Apocalypse. And, of course, there's another word needed to make up
voices of friends he knew. How beautiful and perfect was each voice! How filled with warmth and friendship! There was the voice of his beautiful wife whom he would never see again. There were the gruff and deep voices of his co-workers and scientists. Above all there were the voices of the cities, and the fields and the shops where he had worked. All these had their individual voices. Odd that he had never realized it before, but things become clearer to a man who is alone. Clearer? Perhaps not. Perhaps they become more clouded. How could he, for example,
Question:
How is the theme of marriage explored throughout the story?
Answer:
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[
"The story starts with a husband, George Faircloth, who is unsatisfied with his marriage, trying to escape from his wife without communicating with her. Throughout the story, he uses Prime Technology, a technology that can produce an identical duplicate of a human, to deal with his wife’s complaints and other annoying interactions with him. However, when he finds out that George Prime, his duplicate, gets along better with his wife than him and finally leaves him behind together, he realizes what he has done wrong. When he feels desperate, his wife’s duplicate comes to stay with him, and he finally finds his wife’s duplicate better than his wife. The central theme of the story is the marriage relationship. The beginning of the story reveals a marriage failure where both the husband and the wife are not satisfied with each other after years-long marriage. Their solutions are not to communicate with each other or change for the better but to escape from each other through Prime technology. In the middle of the story, where George Faircloth once finds his wife adorable again due to George Prime’s effort, it shows the importance of communication and mutual support in the marriage, which is lacking in their relationship. The ending of the story, where both of them live with the duplicates of each other, indicates that a good relationship in marriage is to listen to and satisfy what each other needs with proper communication.",
"George Faircloth deems his marriage unhappy because it’s permanent. He doesn’t enjoy spending all his time with the same woman, even though he initially loved Marge. He is exhausted and theoretically would be happy to get a divorce. His despair leads to the events that follow his inner monologue. He buys an android that resembles him and activates him when he wants to meet a woman or simply leave the house for a bit. At the end, Marge and George Prime empty Faircloth’s accounts and go to Bermuda. They are happy together. George himself enjoys living with Marge’s android because she seems like a dream to him, a perfect woman. George and Marge both get too tired of their unhappy, imperfect marriage and choose ideal partners instead.",
"Marriage is depicted as an awful thing. George hates his marriage, but he can’t end it because there are laws that would have allowed his wife to take a lot of his money. George says that he constantly fights with his wife, and that he finds it very hard to spend time with her due to her jealousy and other bad attributes. Marriage is depicted as something that people must do, but isn’t taken seriously, as George very easily cheats on his wife with other women from the office. ",
"One of the central themes explored in “Prime Difference” is the concept of marriage. The story revolves around a couple, George Faircloth and Marge Faircloth, trapped in an eight year long unhappy marriage. Marge complains, whines and cries too much for George. Equally, George does not fulfill his potential in being a good, supportive husband either. After trying to fix it in every way possible, George is hopeless and gives in to the idea of getting an “Ego Prime,” a android clone of him that would look and act like him, allowing him to lead a joyful parallel life as the android directly deals with his wife.\n\nFirst, the story gives a social commentary on the concept of marriage. With the couple being trapped in such a long unhappy marriage, even after trying to fix it yet not finding any way out of it, the story showcases the unnatural aspect of marriage as a social construct. Two individuals are bound to live life together but yet are not able to get out of it because of an imaginary societal contract they agreed upon and societal norms that would view such action as dishonorable. Instead of finding other ways other than a divorce, which they could not afford, to fix it, they thus put up with living together unhappily. This leaves the reader questioning whether marriage should truly limit two individuals’ freedom to this extent.\n\nThe story also gives a commentary on the nature of a good marriage. As the story goes on, George’s Ego Prime starts to turn Marge into a softer, nicer woman, who George starts to appreciate more. George Prime gives credit to this change in behavior to his choice of saying the right things, in other words, the things Marge wants to hear. Equally, when George finds out the Marge he has been falling for again is merely a Prime too, he still accepts and wants her as she makes him feel appreciated. These intentions make the readers question the selfishness behind the concept of marriage. Do we agree to a marital contract purely for our own selfishness of wanting to be serviced and on some level, praised? Are the nice actions we do for our partners merely to selfishly receive those same actions back?\n"
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51321
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A wayfarer's return from a far country to his wife and family may be a shining experience, a kind of second honeymoon. Or it may be so shadowed by Time's relentless tyranny that the changes which have occurred in his absence can lead only to tragedy and despair. This rarely discerning, warmly human story by a brilliant newcomer to the science fantasy field is told with no pulling of punches, and its adroit unfolding will astound you. the hoofer by ... Walter M. Miller, Jr. A space rover has no business with a family. But what can a man in
explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
a family, but what was a man going to do? Take a skinning knife, boy, and make yourself a eunuch. But that was no good either. They needed bulls out there in the pit, not steers. And when a man came down from a year's hitch, what was he going to do? Live in a lonely shack and read books for kicks? Because you were a man, you sought out a woman. And because she was a woman, she got a kid, and that was the end of it. It was nobody's fault, nobody's at all. He stared at the
CAPTAIN MIDAS By ALFRED COPPEL, JR. The captain of the Martian Maid stared avidly at the torn derelict floating against the velvet void. Here was treasure beyond his wildest dreams! How could he know his dreams should have been nightmares? [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Fall 1949. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Gold! A magic word, even today, isn't it? Lust and gold ... they go hand in hand. Like the horsemen of the Apocalypse. And, of course, there's another word needed to make up
voices of friends he knew. How beautiful and perfect was each voice! How filled with warmth and friendship! There was the voice of his beautiful wife whom he would never see again. There were the gruff and deep voices of his co-workers and scientists. Above all there were the voices of the cities, and the fields and the shops where he had worked. All these had their individual voices. Odd that he had never realized it before, but things become clearer to a man who is alone. Clearer? Perhaps not. Perhaps they become more clouded. How could he, for example,
|
Who is Doctor Hamming, and what are his traits?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Breakdown by Herbert D. Kastle.
Relevant chunks:
young, sensitive, suavely handsome face with aristocratic jaw. Then there was a click and the lights flared up and Jack saw the close-cropped gray hair and the lines around the eyes and nostrils, while the sensitive mouth grew sardonic. Yet the handsomeness stayed, and somehow the youth, too, or at least a tremendous inner vibrancy. "Hello, Barr," Martin Kesserich said, ignoring his wife. The great biologist had come home. III "Oh, yes, and Jamieson had a feeble paper on what he called individualization in marine worms. Barr, have you ever thought much about the larger aspects of the problem of
him hurtling spaceward in the second of the Doctor's crude space-ships was now drawing to an end. The Doctor and the young American pilot were both trapped here on this little blob of cosmic matter that hides beyond the Moon's cratered bulk. The Doctor's ship had landed safely on Sekk, the wily scientist preferring the lesser gravity of this fertile world to that of the lifeless Moon in the event that he returned again to Earth, but Dietrich's spacer had crashed. Two words linked Noork with the past, the two words that the Vasads had slurred into his name: New
bound to develop differently." "Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identical twins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They met by accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman. Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a fox terrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environments similar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each of them had exactly the same experiences at the same times...." For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and
per second. Nor [14] did he have a set, unmoving highway as his path; his paths were variable and led through the emptiness of space. Unforeseen emergencies can happen at any time in space, most of them having to do with the lives of passengers. A cargo ship would be somewhat less susceptible to such emergencies if there were no humans aboard; it doesn't matter much to a robot if he has no air in his hull. But with passengers aboard, there may be times when it would be necessary to give orders— fast ! And that means verbal orders,
blob of a nose, showed through the opened robe of the leader. The face was that of Doctor Von Mark the treacherous Nazi scientist that Stephen Dietrich had trailed across space to Sekk! But Noork knew nothing of that chase. The man's face seemed familiar, and hateful, but that was all he remembered. "I see you have come from the island," said the Doctor. "Perhaps you can tell me the secret of this invisible material I wear. With the secret of invisibility I, Karl Von Mark, can again conquer Earth and make the Fatherland invincible." "I do not understand too
Question:
Who is Doctor Hamming, and what are his traits?
Answer:
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[
"Doctor Hamming is first described by Edna as someone who can treat Harry’s so-called “mental problems”. She insists for Harry to go see him multiple times, but Harry refuses every time. Finally, when Harry is escorted by the policemen does he go meet Doctor Hamming in person. In person, Doctor Hamming is a thin little man with a bald head and framed glasses. He also wears a white coat and looks about one hundred years old. He lives with his two sons, and his wife is not around anymore. His son’s names are Pete and Stan. Doctor Hamming is a very stressed person, constantly trying to manage the ark. He is also impatient as well, raising his voice when Harry asks him about his dead son. However, although the doctor is impatient, he is very knowledgeable in his field as well. He predicted that people will begin to die from a disaster and invested a lot of his money to build the ark. He has exceptional planning skills, picking out the farmers in the rural areas as people to continue living on the ark because he knows how important the farmers are. The doctor’s treatments are very successful as well, capable of completely erasing Harry Burr’s conflicting memories and making him forget that they are on an ark. ",
"Dr. Hamming is the only doctor in the town, as the other Dr. Timkins had previously died. He is described to be a thin little man, bald, wearing frameless glasses and overall looking to be frail and at least a hundred years old. \n\nHe is weary and tired as he and his two sons are seemingly in charge of up-keeping the entire health, wealth and charade of the townspeople. He is compassionate as a doctor and has a deep passion for survival. He is generous, for he had saved a few of the remaining people alive after the bomb to try and find uncontaminated land to rebuild life on. \n\nHe describes himself as insane. Insane to be playing God, to be plagued with the memories of what actually happened, and to have been searching for habitable land for years on end. ",
"Doctor Hamming is the only doctor on the ark who is on the duty of maintaining the ark, finding the habitable land, and brainwashing the farmers on the ark. He lives in the new house two miles away from Dugan’s farm. He is thin, bald, and little, wearing frameless glasses and a white coat. He looks very old. He has two sons, Petey and Stan. His wife lost her mind a long time ago before he had the technique to help her. He is stressed because of the enormous pressures of running a world by himself and his sons without much financial support. He is insane because he and his sons have been playing god to maintain good social conditions on the ark for three years, searching for habitable lands desperately, and surrounded by people who know nothing. He is careful as he makes sure everyone on the ark knows nothing about the truth but he and his sons only to prevent possible chaos and terror. He is thoughtful of his plan as he knows what humans need to survive on a single ark and organize things in a necessary order. After the explosion, he picks up the remaining alive farmers to sustain the human race. He is desperate as they cannot find any pure habitable land for years.",
"Doctor Hamming is a medical specialist and a scientist. He saves several hundred people by relocating them to his ark with uncontaminated soil. He is resilient and responsible because he managed to gather the survivors and build a self-sustaining community that lives after the bombing. The doctor is lonely: he tries to talk to Harry, the only sane person besides him and his two sons, while the man’s memory is not under any influence. He is pragmatic and cautious - the doctor started building his ark before the Holocaust started. He was planning the construction, ready for the following catastrophe. He wants to live and to let people live - that's why he spent the last three years managing his mini-world and waiting for some land to become habitable again. "
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young, sensitive, suavely handsome face with aristocratic jaw. Then there was a click and the lights flared up and Jack saw the close-cropped gray hair and the lines around the eyes and nostrils, while the sensitive mouth grew sardonic. Yet the handsomeness stayed, and somehow the youth, too, or at least a tremendous inner vibrancy. "Hello, Barr," Martin Kesserich said, ignoring his wife. The great biologist had come home. III "Oh, yes, and Jamieson had a feeble paper on what he called individualization in marine worms. Barr, have you ever thought much about the larger aspects of the problem of
him hurtling spaceward in the second of the Doctor's crude space-ships was now drawing to an end. The Doctor and the young American pilot were both trapped here on this little blob of cosmic matter that hides beyond the Moon's cratered bulk. The Doctor's ship had landed safely on Sekk, the wily scientist preferring the lesser gravity of this fertile world to that of the lifeless Moon in the event that he returned again to Earth, but Dietrich's spacer had crashed. Two words linked Noork with the past, the two words that the Vasads had slurred into his name: New
bound to develop differently." "Is environment so important? Newman tells about a pair of identical twins separated from birth, unaware of each other's existence. They met by accident when they were twenty-one. Each was a telephone repairman. Each had a wife the same age. Each had a baby son. And each had a fox terrier called 'Trixie.' That's without trying to make environments similar. But suppose you did try. Suppose you saw to it that each of them had exactly the same experiences at the same times...." For a moment it seemed to Jack that the room was dimming and
per second. Nor [14] did he have a set, unmoving highway as his path; his paths were variable and led through the emptiness of space. Unforeseen emergencies can happen at any time in space, most of them having to do with the lives of passengers. A cargo ship would be somewhat less susceptible to such emergencies if there were no humans aboard; it doesn't matter much to a robot if he has no air in his hull. But with passengers aboard, there may be times when it would be necessary to give orders— fast ! And that means verbal orders,
blob of a nose, showed through the opened robe of the leader. The face was that of Doctor Von Mark the treacherous Nazi scientist that Stephen Dietrich had trailed across space to Sekk! But Noork knew nothing of that chase. The man's face seemed familiar, and hateful, but that was all he remembered. "I see you have come from the island," said the Doctor. "Perhaps you can tell me the secret of this invisible material I wear. With the secret of invisibility I, Karl Von Mark, can again conquer Earth and make the Fatherland invincible." "I do not understand too
|
What happens to Patti Gray throughout the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Prison Planet by Wilson Tucker.
Relevant chunks:
the trilogy. You don't get any thing for nothing. So add this: Cost. Or you might call it pain, sorrow, agony. Call it what you like. It's what you pay for great treasure.... These things were true when fabled Jason sailed the Argo beyond Colchis seeking the Fleece. They were true when men sailed the southern oceans in wooden ships. And the conquest of space hasn't changed us a bit. We're still a greedy lot.... I'm a queer one to be saying these things, but then, who has more right? Look at me. My hair is gray and my face
deathly ill, but nobody dying. And doctors can't identify the poison until they have a fatality for an autopsy. People stricken in every part of the country, but the water systems are pure. How does it spread?" "In food?" "How? There must be hundreds of canneries and dairies and packing plants over the country. How could they all goof at the same time—even if it was sabotage?" "On the wind?" "But who could accurately predict every wind over the entire country—even Alaska and Hawaii—without hitting Canada or Mexico? And why wouldn't everybody get it in a given area?" Bettijean's smooth
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
"I came to work as usual and...." Slowly, haltingly, she recited the routine of a routine work day, then told about the quick snack that sufficed for supper and about staying on her phone and typewriter for another five hours. "It was about eleven when the relief crew came in." "What did you do then?" Andy asked. "I ... I took a break and...." Her ivory skin reddened, the color spreading into the roots of her fluffy curls, and she turned her face away from Andy. "And I had a sandwich and some coffee and got a little nap in
a family, but what was a man going to do? Take a skinning knife, boy, and make yourself a eunuch. But that was no good either. They needed bulls out there in the pit, not steers. And when a man came down from a year's hitch, what was he going to do? Live in a lonely shack and read books for kicks? Because you were a man, you sought out a woman. And because she was a woman, she got a kid, and that was the end of it. It was nobody's fault, nobody's at all. He stared at the
Question:
What happens to Patti Gray throughout the story?
Answer:
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[
"The story starts with Patti looking after the sick girl. She hears the dispute of the crew about the future steps and gets involved. She learns out about Rat's past and the mistake of leaving his post which led to a massacre. Nevertheless, she and the girl decide to ask him to pilot the ship, hoping it will help the sick get on Earth in time. Patti gets sympathetic towards Rat from the beginning and keeps trying to talk to him. She keeps being by Judith. Rat bring her to the hammocks on his wings and she is frightened for a second. She follows his orders and advices until her suffering gets intense. During the trip with Rat as a pilot she has to drink only twice a day to keep water and she feels extremely thirsty. She also hurts herself when the ship suddenly moves from one side to another. Water tastes like fuel to her and she gets mad at Rat for not naming the amount of days. Then she learns about Rat's point of view on the past situation with the massacre and becomes even more sympathetic towards him. ",
"Patti Gray is in a room listening to an argument when she hears Judith moaning from a different room and goes to tend to her aid. After attending to Judith she goes back to talk to Roberds. She informs Patti that Rat went AWOL during a very important battle. The Chief Consul explains that unrelated politics is what saved Rat from execution for abandoning his post. After her inquiry about Rat, Patti says goodnight to everyone and returns to her room for the night. Patti secretly converses with Rat and asks him to fly Judith and her to Earth right away instead of waiting for Roberds. Rat agrees to do so and flies Judith to the ship. After Rat grabs and takes Judith to the ship, Patti anxiously awaits for him to return. He eventually returns and flies her to the ship too. When they get to the ship Patti reassures Judith that there is no use in mulling over the decision to take the ship now and tries to calm her down. \n\nBecause Rat pilots the ship to a very fast takeoff, Patti, Judith, and Gladney pass out due to the forces. Patti eventually wakes up and is surprised to find out how long she was out, she then begins to talk to Rat. During the trip, Patti becomes thirsty because of the very limited supply of water and she becomes irritated when Rat tells her she cannot drink more water. She grows increasingly upset about the conditions on the ship. When informed by Gladney that Rat is traveling at an excessive speed without necessary breaking, Patti tells Rat that he needs to explain how he is going to deaccelerate. She’s interrupted when they suddenly spot Earth. She goes to get Rat water as requested but returns to tell him that there is no more water left. \n",
"Throughout the story, Patti Gray is forced to endure many of the harsh conditions on the ship while having to take care of her patients. She initially mentions that she was once part of the Fleet and is used to harsh conditions. However, Nurse Gray is also never able to sleep more than three hours due to her patients and having to constantly check up on their conditions whenever they are in pain. Although Nurse Gray is determined and confident to see Judith get better, there are also parts where she begins to lose her sanity. She is upset that there is only one tank of boiling hot water and the difficulty of getting into a hammock in space. Later, as their journey reaches the end, Nurse Gray begins to go mad from the horrid conditions on the ship and falls face-first onto the floor. Once the end is near, and with some support from Rat, she is extremely happy to see Earth again. Nurse Gray is also able to calm down and resume asking Rat questions. ",
"Patti Gray is a nurse to Judith on Mars. She updates Peterson and the Chief on Judith's status, and asks them about Rat and why he is not allowed to pilot the ship to Earth. Patti learns that Rat was involved in treason back when the Sansan massacre happened. Later that night, Patti finds Rat and asks him to pilot the ship to Earth as soon as possible. Rat later retrieves Judith and Patti and takes them aboard the ship, where they take off. Rat and Patti talk on the ship, asking each other questions, and Patti faces several hardships on the ship, including the lack of water and the uncomfortable temperature. As the journey continues, it becomes unbearable for Patti."
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the trilogy. You don't get any thing for nothing. So add this: Cost. Or you might call it pain, sorrow, agony. Call it what you like. It's what you pay for great treasure.... These things were true when fabled Jason sailed the Argo beyond Colchis seeking the Fleece. They were true when men sailed the southern oceans in wooden ships. And the conquest of space hasn't changed us a bit. We're still a greedy lot.... I'm a queer one to be saying these things, but then, who has more right? Look at me. My hair is gray and my face
deathly ill, but nobody dying. And doctors can't identify the poison until they have a fatality for an autopsy. People stricken in every part of the country, but the water systems are pure. How does it spread?" "In food?" "How? There must be hundreds of canneries and dairies and packing plants over the country. How could they all goof at the same time—even if it was sabotage?" "On the wind?" "But who could accurately predict every wind over the entire country—even Alaska and Hawaii—without hitting Canada or Mexico? And why wouldn't everybody get it in a given area?" Bettijean's smooth
course. What is it that girls in small offices do or eat or drink or wear that girls in large offices don't do or eat or drink or wear? What do writers and doctors do differently? Or poets and dentists? What are we missing? What—" In the outer office a girl cried out. A body thumped against a desk, then a chair, then to the floor. Two girls screamed. Andy bolted up from his chair. Racing to the door, he shouted back to Bettijean, "Get a staff doctor and a chemist from the lab." It was the girl who had
"I came to work as usual and...." Slowly, haltingly, she recited the routine of a routine work day, then told about the quick snack that sufficed for supper and about staying on her phone and typewriter for another five hours. "It was about eleven when the relief crew came in." "What did you do then?" Andy asked. "I ... I took a break and...." Her ivory skin reddened, the color spreading into the roots of her fluffy curls, and she turned her face away from Andy. "And I had a sandwich and some coffee and got a little nap in
a family, but what was a man going to do? Take a skinning knife, boy, and make yourself a eunuch. But that was no good either. They needed bulls out there in the pit, not steers. And when a man came down from a year's hitch, what was he going to do? Live in a lonely shack and read books for kicks? Because you were a man, you sought out a woman. And because she was a woman, she got a kid, and that was the end of it. It was nobody's fault, nobody's at all. He stared at the
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Describe the setting of this story.
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Captain Midas by Alfred Coppel.
Relevant chunks:
edge, and birds as delicate as colored glass wavered down the wind. He opened the shelter door and went out. The shelter looked the same, but useless now. How did the shelter of that bleak world get into this one, where the air was warm and fragrant, where there was no cold, from that world into this one of his dreams? The girl—Helene—was standing there leaning against a tree, smoking a cigarette. He walked toward her, and stopped. In the dream it had been easy, but now he was embarrassed, in spite of the intimacy that had grown between them.
THE HANGING STRANGER BY PHILIP K. DICK ILLUSTRATED BY SMITH [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Science Fiction Adventures Magazine December 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Ed had always been a practical man, when he saw something was wrong he tried to correct it. Then one day he saw it hanging in the town square. Five o'clock Ed Loyce washed up, tossed on his hat and coat, got his car out and headed across town toward his TV sales store. He was tired. His back and shoulders
any more. Surely no man would be allowed to leave this place alive to tell the fantastic story to the world! "Hello, Don," said a quiet voice beside him. "It's good to see you again." "Dr. Crandon!" he heard his own voice reply. " You're the Grand Chairman of POSAT?" He felt betrayed and sick at heart. The very voice with which Crandon had spoken conjured up visions of quiet lecture halls and his own youthful excitement at the masterful and orderly disclosure of scientific facts. To find him here in this mad and treacherous place—didn't anything make sense any
willing guest. No! He couldn't afford it! No! No! NO! His lot was a cheap suit of satin! Cheap whiskey! Cheap champagne! A cheap shack by the river.... An inarticulate cry escaped his twisted lips. He clutched her roughly to him and dragged her through the door and into the moonlight, whiskey and anger lending him brutal strength. He pulled her through the deserted garden. All the others had private rooms! He pulled her to the far end, behind a clump of squatty firs. His hands clawed at her. He tried to smother her mouth with kisses. She eluded him
old people sitting in the tunnel beyond this living quarter. And as he watched, they began to die. Their agonies filled the cave. They melted like waxen images, their faces collapsed inward on their sharp bones, their teeth protruded. One minute their faces were mature, fairly smooth, alive, electric. The next minute a desication and burning away of their flesh occurred. Sim thrashed in his mother's grasp. She held him. "No, no," she soothed him, quietly, earnestly, looking to see if this, too, would cause her husband to rise again. With a soft swift padding of naked feet, Sim's father
Question:
Describe the setting of this story.
Answer:
|
[
"This story takes place in the Holcomb Foundation aboard Martian Maid. The Martian Maid is a grand ship that took off from Solis Lacus on its last flight; the ship spanned 200 feet in its length and despite its sleek exterior, was an armed ship as well. The Maid was on an orbit in a region strewn with asteroids between the outer systems and the EMV triangle. \n\nAboard the spaceship, interactions between the characters in the story largely took place in the Control room. It also takes place in Captain Midas’ quarters, where he investigates the mystery metal. The setting also changes to include the derelict ship the crewmates had found, which presented itself as a shell of a vessel with torn interiors and yellow-tinged walls. \n",
"After the character’s inner monologue finishes, Midas starts talking about the day his team took off on the Martian Maid spaceship. He watched the lights of Canalopolis: gin mills and houses reflected on the ancient canal’s water, the bright moons cast their shadows across the banks. They were leaving the Earth-Mars-Venus Triangle and moving towards the outer systems, specifically the planet called Callisto. Midas spent most of his time in the Control room. He gathered the crew there to tell them about the derelict. At his quarters, Midas examined the metal samples sitting at his work-table. Days later, in the control room with a control panel, a radar finder, and a firing console, Midas killed Spinelli, who had attacked him. He then decided to find his team. He entered the living quarters of the prize crew. The walls were gleaming. Then, Midas swiftly reached the Maid and flew to Callisto. Now he’s in a hospital cot.\n\n",
"The story happens on two spaceships. One is Martian Maid, which is a two hundred feet long spaceship. It is sleek, chemical-fueled, and spherical. It is equipped with weapons, such as turrets. There is a telescope, radar, and a book rack above the desk in the captain’s room. The other is the derelict. It is tremendously gigantic. It has a sleek torpedo shape with unknown alienness. Its flanks are constituted with glittering whorls. It is torn apart severely. There are a few storage compartments inside.",
"The story is primarily set in space. When the Martian Maid first takes off, it leaves from Solis Lacus after being taken out of the Foundation Yards. The ship is headed towards Callisto, where everybody will be receiving a fat paycheck. There is a Earth-Mars-Venus triangle that provides relative security for space travel. However, the outer systems are much more dangerous. The Captain also watches Canalopolis from a distance before he has to leave. The Maid has a scope position and living quarters for the crew. There is also an area called Control, where everybody is called to meet. The golden ship they find is made fully out of gold. The treasure ship has yellowish decks and an airlock compartment set aside for the crew. The entire ship gleams, but it is made out of devil metal. After the captain escapes to Callisto, he is subjected to a hospital cot for the rest of his life. "
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edge, and birds as delicate as colored glass wavered down the wind. He opened the shelter door and went out. The shelter looked the same, but useless now. How did the shelter of that bleak world get into this one, where the air was warm and fragrant, where there was no cold, from that world into this one of his dreams? The girl—Helene—was standing there leaning against a tree, smoking a cigarette. He walked toward her, and stopped. In the dream it had been easy, but now he was embarrassed, in spite of the intimacy that had grown between them.
THE HANGING STRANGER BY PHILIP K. DICK ILLUSTRATED BY SMITH [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Science Fiction Adventures Magazine December 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Ed had always been a practical man, when he saw something was wrong he tried to correct it. Then one day he saw it hanging in the town square. Five o'clock Ed Loyce washed up, tossed on his hat and coat, got his car out and headed across town toward his TV sales store. He was tired. His back and shoulders
any more. Surely no man would be allowed to leave this place alive to tell the fantastic story to the world! "Hello, Don," said a quiet voice beside him. "It's good to see you again." "Dr. Crandon!" he heard his own voice reply. " You're the Grand Chairman of POSAT?" He felt betrayed and sick at heart. The very voice with which Crandon had spoken conjured up visions of quiet lecture halls and his own youthful excitement at the masterful and orderly disclosure of scientific facts. To find him here in this mad and treacherous place—didn't anything make sense any
willing guest. No! He couldn't afford it! No! No! NO! His lot was a cheap suit of satin! Cheap whiskey! Cheap champagne! A cheap shack by the river.... An inarticulate cry escaped his twisted lips. He clutched her roughly to him and dragged her through the door and into the moonlight, whiskey and anger lending him brutal strength. He pulled her through the deserted garden. All the others had private rooms! He pulled her to the far end, behind a clump of squatty firs. His hands clawed at her. He tried to smother her mouth with kisses. She eluded him
old people sitting in the tunnel beyond this living quarter. And as he watched, they began to die. Their agonies filled the cave. They melted like waxen images, their faces collapsed inward on their sharp bones, their teeth protruded. One minute their faces were mature, fairly smooth, alive, electric. The next minute a desication and burning away of their flesh occurred. Sim thrashed in his mother's grasp. She held him. "No, no," she soothed him, quietly, earnestly, looking to see if this, too, would cause her husband to rise again. With a soft swift padding of naked feet, Sim's father
|
What is the plot of the story?
|
After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Expendables by Jim Harmon.
Relevant chunks:
of futile sons? What can I do to save myself from dying eight days from now? Is there escape? His eyes widened, another image came to focus. Beyond this valley of cliffs, on a low mountain lay a perfect, unscarred metal seed. A metal ship, not rusted or touched by the avalanches. The ship was deserted, whole, intact. It was the only ship of all these that had crashed that was still a unit, still usable. But it was so far away. There was no one in it to help. This ship, then, on the far mountain, was the destiny
What is POSAT? By PHYLLIS STERLING SMITH Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Of course coming events cast their shadows before, but this shadow was 400 years long! The following advertisement appeared in the July 1953 issue of several magazines: MASTERY OF ALL KNOWLEDGE CAN BE YOURS! What is the secret source of those profound principles that can solve the problems of life? Send for our FREE booklet of explanation. Do not be a
mission that huge and depressing in eight short, vanishing days? How had his people gotten into such a condition? As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown across space from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashing on this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women. When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffs from the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of the huge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upon a forge. Solar radiations drenched them.
10:30." The following evening found Quidley on tenter-hooks. The snoll-doper mystery had acquired a new tang. He could hardly wait till the next message transfer took place. He decided to spend the evening plotting the epic novel which he intended to write someday. He set to work immediately. He plotted mentally, of course—notes were for the hacks and the other commercial non-geniuses who infested the modern literary world. Closing his eyes, he saw the whole vivid panorama of epic action and grand adventure flowing like a mighty and majestic river before his literary vision: the authentic and awe-inspiring background; the
the corner he halted. The street lights had not yet come on. The street was dim. Everything was vague. He looked around—and froze. From the telephone pole in front of the police station, something large and shapeless hung. It moved a little with the wind. What the hell was it? Mason approached it warily. He wanted to get home. He was tired and hungry. He thought of his wife, his kids, a hot meal on the dinner table. But there was something about the dark bundle, something ominous and ugly. The light was bad; he couldn't tell what it was.
Question:
What is the plot of the story?
Answer:
|
[
"A racketeer, Tony Carmen, comes to Professor Venetti, demanding him figure out how to get rid of the corpse in his house without leaving any traces by using the information Professor Venetti has in his job for the U.S. government that is related to the disposal problem of nuclear waste. Tony threatens Professor Venetti that if Professor Venetti does not abide by what he says, his connection with Mafia will cause Professor Venetti a lot of trouble. Afraid of what the Mafia may do, Professor Venetti finally accepts his request. However, professor Venetti does not abide by the safety and careful principles when he invents the machine, which is named Expendable late after by Tony. He does not know how the machine works either; he creates a device that can turn physical mass into nothingness without knowing where the disposed of mass or energy goes. When he gives the machine to Tony, Tony asks how the machine works, but Professor Venetti cannot explain. Later on, Tony sets up the device on the street, ordering Professor Venetti to turn on the machine, which is modified by a boy who used to be a mechanic, and Professor Venetti does. The machine destroys a warehouse, including the people inside. Professor Venetti condemns Tony for committing a crime, but Tony does not care as there is no corpse to prove the crime. \n\nTony persuades Professor Venetti to put the Expendables into business. He leaks the information about the machine through newspapers to attract big corporations to come for them. As they make more profits from the product and go through all the business matters, an agent from Atomic Energy Commission comes. The agent informs them about the ban of their products because there is a research finding that the side effect of their product is the heat transformed from the mass, which results in the rising temperature. Professor Venetti believes that people would not stop using the products even if they knew what environmental damage they would cause. He creates a reverse version of the machine, called Disexpendable, which would consume the excess energy produced by the Expendables. After he completes it, he turns it on. As the Disexpendable operates, the temperature gets colder, and the corpse, once decomposed, appears in the room in front of the agent. At the same time, Tony orders Professor Venetti to turn off the machine.\n",
"Tony Carmen, a criminal with connections in the Mafia, comes to professor Venetti with a request to create some method of getting rid of human corpses with no traces. He says that these are bodies of accident victims left by Harry Keno. Professor tries to come up with different conventional methods. Carmen mentions that he knows Venetti’s affiliation with the radioactive waste disposal program coordinated by the government and wants something more scientifically-based. Venetti thinks about all the attempts the government made to dispose of radioactive waste, but they were all futile since there was no way of creating an effective mechanism without breaking the law of energy conservation. He experiments and manages to create a machine that erases any physical object without any thermal or gravitational traces. When Tony Carmen asks where the matter goes, the professor honestly admits that he doesn’t know. Carmen is suspicious, but Venetti firmly states that even if the objects go to the future or the past, there is a small chance of them appearing again soon. Tony starts talking about the mass-production of these machines, but Venetti initially protests, scared of legal prosecution and reputational damage. But eventually, the professor gives up, realizing that this mechanism - Tony calls it an Expendable - won’t be useful to the government. Sometime later, Camren and Venetti decide to test the machine outside. After flipping the switch, Venetti sees that a distant warehouse building disappears. He is shocked and soon notices that the unit is halved. Tony says that his friend separated the mechanism to square the operational field, and it worked. He also says that his enemy Harry Keno just got wiped out together with his intimates and their confidential squat. The following morning, the Times mentions the vanishing of the building and that the government is developing a disintegrating process for waste. Tony comes to him and tells him that Arcivox - a company producing radios and TV sets - wants to buy the machine. Tony suggests selling the potent and keeping it in control through a separate corporation. Several months later, professor Venetti is in his office talking to his secretary, Miss Brown, about the future business communications. Suddenly Tony bangs open the door and says that G-men are on their way. Seconds later, an investigator from the Atomic Energy Commission comes in. He quickly states that the manufacturing of the Expendable will soon be banned. He explains that their scientists understood that the energy the machine seemingly destroyed actually turned into heat. This process increased the mean temperature. The professor agrees but adds that people are too stubborn to stop using the machine. He suggests creating an engine that would use up this extra energy. When they switch the disexpendable on, slowly the body of Harry Keno appears on the revolving disc. At the end, Venetti claims that his inventions are useless now and that this story is true, and he encourages the readers to write letters towards his upcoming defense.",
"The story follows a scientist who works for the U.S. Government. He is trying to find ways that the Government can get rid of radioactive and nuclear waste cleanly and safely. He is approached by a member of the Italian Mob. He asks Venetti to continue making this instrument, and to give him a copy when he makes it, because he needs to find a way to get rid of human bodies. At the beginning Venetti doubts doing this, but he believes it is a good way to make money. Venetti finally makes it and it, and gives Venetti one of the machines. The machine seems to get rid of anything that is put in it, without leaving behind any trace. Together, they start a company and commercially sell the boxes as expendables. They start to gain a lot of money, because it makes life easier for a lot of people. Their company grows a lot, and they start to get a lot of. Finally, it is revealed that the expendables have been contributing to global warming, as it excretes the energy into the environment. Venetti develops another machine in order to counteract the effects of the original expendable, which leads to regenerating everything that was put in the machine, including the dead bodies. This leads to Venetti being sued for the expendables, as people believe that he approached the member of the mob first. ",
"The Expendables is written in the form of a personal account by scientist Professor Venetti. He is approached by a stranger claiming to know the Mafia, Tony Carmen, who asks him for a favor to which Venetti initially refuses. Carmen is trying to use the professor’s potential invention to get rid of dead bodies Carmen has. After Carmen makes Venetti aware that he knows about his secret project with the government to develop an innovation that would get rid of radioactive wastes, Carmen manages to make Venetti agree to help him. Prof. Venetti makes him promise that he did not kill the bodies. Venetti has yet to succeed in finding such an invention because this requires a neutralization of the radioactive emanations while he has only been able to reduce the radioactive mass. With less responsibility and credibility associated with Tony’s request compared to the government’s, he decides to perform more risky experimentations. He finds a way to make trash disappear but by completely destroying its mass. Venetti thinks that contrary to the government, Carmen would not be curious enough to ask where the mass actually goes. Carmen does in fact ask this when Venetti shows him the machine as he is concerned that he will get caught. Venetti genuinely does not know the answer and Carmen proposes that they launch the machine as the “Expendable”. With his business expertise, Carmen promises to help with the launch while Venetti is still concerned with the ethical implications such as a possible rise in murder rate. Together, they go test the machine on an empty, wide land with bodyguards around in case any policemen show up. When they use it, a square shape of the horizon disappears and Tony uses the machine for corpses which Venetti ultimately understands were results of Carmen’s own crime. The next morning, the innovation is featured in the newspaper as a rumor. Arcivox, a radio and TV company, expresses interest. Tony convinces Venetti to accept the offer when they come forward, saying that he will give him a large portion of the stocks.\n\nFlash forward into time, after taking the offer, Venetti is now a business man but he is not enjoying it. One day, the Atomic Energy Commission approaches his team, telling him they need to end the Expendables. They explain that their scientists used to think that the increasing hot weather was due to nuclear testing but they found that it was in fact due to the Expendables. The machines merely destroy matter but do not create any, violating the law of conversion of energy which could raise the Earth temperature to worrying extremities. Venetti argues that the public would not be willing to stop its use because of how convenient it is and instead agrees to create “Disexpendibles” which would create the opposite effect. When put to use, the temperature readjusts but trash reappears and so do the bodies that Tony wanted gone. At the very least, this held Tony accountable for his actions.\n"
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of futile sons? What can I do to save myself from dying eight days from now? Is there escape? His eyes widened, another image came to focus. Beyond this valley of cliffs, on a low mountain lay a perfect, unscarred metal seed. A metal ship, not rusted or touched by the avalanches. The ship was deserted, whole, intact. It was the only ship of all these that had crashed that was still a unit, still usable. But it was so far away. There was no one in it to help. This ship, then, on the far mountain, was the destiny
What is POSAT? By PHYLLIS STERLING SMITH Illustrated by ED ALEXANDER [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction September 1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Of course coming events cast their shadows before, but this shadow was 400 years long! The following advertisement appeared in the July 1953 issue of several magazines: MASTERY OF ALL KNOWLEDGE CAN BE YOURS! What is the secret source of those profound principles that can solve the problems of life? Send for our FREE booklet of explanation. Do not be a
mission that huge and depressing in eight short, vanishing days? How had his people gotten into such a condition? As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown across space from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashing on this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women. When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffs from the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of the huge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upon a forge. Solar radiations drenched them.
10:30." The following evening found Quidley on tenter-hooks. The snoll-doper mystery had acquired a new tang. He could hardly wait till the next message transfer took place. He decided to spend the evening plotting the epic novel which he intended to write someday. He set to work immediately. He plotted mentally, of course—notes were for the hacks and the other commercial non-geniuses who infested the modern literary world. Closing his eyes, he saw the whole vivid panorama of epic action and grand adventure flowing like a mighty and majestic river before his literary vision: the authentic and awe-inspiring background; the
the corner he halted. The street lights had not yet come on. The street was dim. Everything was vague. He looked around—and froze. From the telephone pole in front of the police station, something large and shapeless hung. It moved a little with the wind. What the hell was it? Mason approached it warily. He wanted to get home. He was tired and hungry. He thought of his wife, his kids, a hot meal on the dinner table. But there was something about the dark bundle, something ominous and ugly. The light was bad; he couldn't tell what it was.
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What effect does Farquar have on the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about Appointment In Tomorrow by Fritz Leiber.
Relevant chunks:
A wayfarer's return from a far country to his wife and family may be a shining experience, a kind of second honeymoon. Or it may be so shadowed by Time's relentless tyranny that the changes which have occurred in his absence can lead only to tragedy and despair. This rarely discerning, warmly human story by a brilliant newcomer to the science fantasy field is told with no pulling of punches, and its adroit unfolding will astound you. the hoofer by ... Walter M. Miller, Jr. A space rover has no business with a family. But what can a man in
explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
ago? I sensed that my own stream of life had somehow crossed with his in ages gone by. How? Who can ever know? By what faded charts of the movements through the sky will man ever be able to retrace relationships of forms of life among planets? "Get ready to go out and meet him, Campbell," I said. "He's a friend." Split Campbell gave me a look as if to say, Sir, you don't even know what sort of animal he is, actually, much less whether he's friendly or murderous. "There are some things I can sense on first sight,
started to rise, the wave of blackness warned me, and I restrained my ambition. "I will walk soon." "We will have much to talk about. Your friend has pointed to the stars and told me a strange story of your coming. We have walked around the ship. He has told me how it rides through the sky. I can hardly make myself believe." Tomboldo's eyes cast upward under the strong ridge of forehead where the eyebrows should have been. He was evidently trying to visualize the flight of a space ship. "We will have much to tell each other." "I
a stunning blow against his head. As Star went down, he dizzily cursed himself for becoming interested in the argument with the girl, so that he did not heed his reflexes in time ... and dimly, he wondered why it had seemed so important to convince the lovely dark-haired girl. Then a bit of the cosmos seemed to fall on Star's head, and he was hurled into blackness. An eternity seemed to pass. Deep in the blackness, a light was born. It leaped toward him, a far-away comet rocketing along, coming from some far, unknown corner of the galaxy. It
Question:
What effect does Farquar have on the story?
Answer:
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[
"Farquar sparks the driving conflict of the story; the question he submits threatens the authority and legitimacy of the Thinkers, implying that the machine that guides society's decisions is a fake. This question disturbs the officials present at Maizie's event. Farquar also attempts to convince Opperly, a major Scientist, that the Thinkers should be exposed and called out for their deception. He is eager to take action against them. Farquar plays an additional role in the story as someone who Jorj must turn to for help; he is a skilled physician that the Thinkers need in order to develop their idea for a nuclear rocket. Farquar determines the fate of Jorj and the Thinkers as someone who both poses a threat to them and is needed by them.",
"Willard Farquar is a physicist who is a member of Morton Opperly’s group. He is a large individual with strong and ugly features. He has traced the path of the Thinker’s spaceship and found that, contrary to the Thinkers’ claims, the spaceships do not travel to Mars. Through Opperly, Farquar submits a revealing question to the Thinkers’ machine Maizie, antagonizing the Thinkers. \nIn Opperly’s residence, Farquar proposes further chipping away at their deception, saying that they shouldn’t avoid a task merely because of its difficulty. Opperly, who is from the previous generation of academic physicists, disagrees. Farquar condemns his generation, saying that they wasted the power of atomic energy which they could have used to influence humanity. As he is saying that the Thinkers will soon need the help of scientists to support their bluffing, an invitation from the leader of the Thinkers arrives, inviting Farquar to the Thinkers’ Foundation. We learn that one of Farquar’s previous love interests had left him for a Thinker. \n",
"Farquar creates a question for an examination that hints to the Secretary of State and Jorj that he knows the secret that they are hiding. He knows that Maizie is not the intelligent and amazing piece of machinery that they claim. He knows that there is a person behind Maizie that is helping to create the illusion that Maizie is an intelligent cubic piece of machinery. Farquar wants to fight in an act of violence against the Thinkers because of their deceit towards the population. He is upset that they lie about Maizie’s capabilities, their Mars rockets, and their Martian mental science. ",
"Farquar is a physicist who knows that the Thinkers do not have a real Maizie. He has sent the question about whether Maizie is a Maelzel to the Thinkers, teasing them. Farquar’s argument with Opperly allow us to learn about the Thinkers and the physicists. The Thinkers have the government’s control because they seems to be able to do things that the physicists are not able to, such as going to Mars, learning about their mental sciences, as well building a human-brain machine. However, we learn from Farquar that none of that is true. There is no landing on Mars, designing a human-brain machine, which is why they need the physicists help. \n\nJorj indeed decide to send an invitation to the physicists after seeing the girl that he hypnotically controls, thus the girl should be the reason that the invitation is sent to Farquar. Later we learn from Opperly that there was a girl named Miss Arkady who had been with Farquar. She could be the Caddy that Jorj mentioned. Miss Arkady apparently went off with a Thinker, and Opperly thinks that this could be the reason that they are sending this invitation to them. However, Farquar does not believe it."
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A wayfarer's return from a far country to his wife and family may be a shining experience, a kind of second honeymoon. Or it may be so shadowed by Time's relentless tyranny that the changes which have occurred in his absence can lead only to tragedy and despair. This rarely discerning, warmly human story by a brilliant newcomer to the science fantasy field is told with no pulling of punches, and its adroit unfolding will astound you. the hoofer by ... Walter M. Miller, Jr. A space rover has no business with a family. But what can a man in
explain the phenomena of the Ghost Ship? Was it really only a product of his imagination? What of all the others who had seen it? Was it possible for many different men under many different situations to have the same exact illusion? Reason denied that. But perhaps space itself denies reason. Grimly he retraced the legend of the Ghost Ship. A chance phrase here and a story there put together all that he knew: Doomed for all eternity to wander in the empty star-lanes, the Ghost Ship haunts the Solar System that gave it birth. And this is its tragedy,
ago? I sensed that my own stream of life had somehow crossed with his in ages gone by. How? Who can ever know? By what faded charts of the movements through the sky will man ever be able to retrace relationships of forms of life among planets? "Get ready to go out and meet him, Campbell," I said. "He's a friend." Split Campbell gave me a look as if to say, Sir, you don't even know what sort of animal he is, actually, much less whether he's friendly or murderous. "There are some things I can sense on first sight,
started to rise, the wave of blackness warned me, and I restrained my ambition. "I will walk soon." "We will have much to talk about. Your friend has pointed to the stars and told me a strange story of your coming. We have walked around the ship. He has told me how it rides through the sky. I can hardly make myself believe." Tomboldo's eyes cast upward under the strong ridge of forehead where the eyebrows should have been. He was evidently trying to visualize the flight of a space ship. "We will have much to tell each other." "I
a stunning blow against his head. As Star went down, he dizzily cursed himself for becoming interested in the argument with the girl, so that he did not heed his reflexes in time ... and dimly, he wondered why it had seemed so important to convince the lovely dark-haired girl. Then a bit of the cosmos seemed to fall on Star's head, and he was hurled into blackness. An eternity seemed to pass. Deep in the blackness, a light was born. It leaped toward him, a far-away comet rocketing along, coming from some far, unknown corner of the galaxy. It
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What is the setting of the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Girls from Fieu Dayol by Robert F. Young.
Relevant chunks:
on a dead planet, living in an atmosphere of carbon dioxide. The carbon dioxide brought him up sharp. If there had been life here once, there would have been plant life as well, and therefore oxygen. If the war had been so long ago that the free oxygen had since gone out of the atmosphere—good God, how old were the robots? Steffens looked at Ball, then at the silent robots, then out across the field to where the rest of them stood. The black wheat. Steffens felt a deep chill. Were they immortal? "Would you like to see a doctor?"
many days?" His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of those inhuman eyes. She fell face first to the floor. "I can't keep it up!" she cried. The sound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. "I cant! I cant!" A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. "Get up!" Rat stood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. "Get up!" She stared at him, dazed. He kicked her. "Get up!" The tepid water ran off her face and far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Rat was
and didn't look at her. "You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock." "I can take it." Suddenly she smiled, wanly. "I was with the Fleet. How long will it take?" "Eight days, in that ship." Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Peterson was harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small ship meant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days in that untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl and Gladney. "Who was that ... man? The one you put out?" Gray
The Beast-Jewel of Mars By V. E. THIESSEN The city was strange, fantastic, beautiful. He'd never been there before, yet already he was a fabulous legend—a dire, hateful legend. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Spring 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] He lay on his stomach, a lean man in faded one piece dungarees, and an odd metallic hat, peering over the side of the canal. Behind him the little winds sifted red dust into his collar, but he could not move; he could only
asked. "We call him Rat," Roberds said. She didn't ask why. She said: "Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean? What is his record?" Peterson opened his mouth. "Shut up, Peterson!" the Chief snapped. "We don't talk about his record around here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell." "Stow it, Chief," said Peterson. "Miss Gray is no pantywaist." He turned to the nurse. "Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?" Patti Gray paled. "Yes," she whispered. "Was Rat in that?" Roberds shook his head. "He didn't take part in it. But Rat was attached to a very
Question:
What is the setting of the story?
Answer:
|
[
"The first scene is in the library. Hippolyte Adolphe Taine’s History of English Literature is in the literature section. The books are categorized in alphabetical order. Taine’s book is in the T-section. The secret letters are always hidden in Taine’s book in the T section, where the girls from Fieu Dayol always stop and take the book. A librarian sits at the front desk to handle administrative stuff. There are reading tables. The second scene is in an all-night coffee bar where Herbert Quidley conducts his Spill-the-sugar operation to start the conversation with the girl next to him. There is a sugar dispenser on the counter. \n\nThe third scene is in Quidley’s apartment. There is a custom-built chrome-trimmed desk, a typewriter inserted with a blank sheet of paper, and the reference books stacked nearby. The magazine rack has Better Magazines, Harper’s, The Atlantic, and The Saturday Review. There is also a small table and a sideboard with a bottle of bourbon and two snifter glasses on top. The fourth scene is on the highway where Quidley is stuck in the car. The rutted road with trees points towards a ship. A ship with its lock open is hiding in the trees. It is dark.",
"The story is set in a city, but most of the action takes place in a library. While searching for a book in the library, Herbert comes across the weird messages that Kay and her crew used to communicate with each other. Some parts of the story also take place in a bar, which is where Kay and Herbert actually met. Herbert’s apartment is also an important location, as it was where Herbert and Kay became closer. Lastly, Kay’ ship is hidden within a forest, which is where the story ends. ",
"The story is set on planet Earth. It is set in a city, and the beginning of the story is inside of a library. There is a great number of books inside of the library, including old tomes. Whenever one of the women has to leave a message, they go to the ‘T’ section of English literature. The city also has an all-night coffee shop, where Quidley goes to bump into Kay in order to find out more about her. Quidley has an apartment himself, and Jillka is noted to live in a brick apartment building. It is later revealed that there is also a ship to take everybody back to Fieu Dayol, or Persei 17. It is noted that there is an unequal population-balance between the men and women there. \n",
"The story starts at the library, where Quidley finds the undecipherable messages inside Taine's novel. The next day, he comes back there and then decides to follow Kay. He gets in his car and drives behind her until they both stop near an all-night coffee bar. They sit at the bar counter and talk. Two days later, Quidley goes to the library again and notices another girl. Later this evening, Kay arrives at his place. The room has a typewriter on his chrome-trimmed desk with crinkly sheets and reference books beside it, a bottle of bourbon and glasses on a sideboard, and a small table set for two. When Kay catches him reading their new message, she orders him to follow her. They get in her convertible and drive to a brick apartment building. She pulls over and enters the building. Minutes later, she walks back to the car, and they drive along a highway away from the city. She turns down a rutted road, and soon they reach a black blur of trees and a spherical ship that blends with its background. At the end, Quidley marches up the ship’s plank. \n"
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on a dead planet, living in an atmosphere of carbon dioxide. The carbon dioxide brought him up sharp. If there had been life here once, there would have been plant life as well, and therefore oxygen. If the war had been so long ago that the free oxygen had since gone out of the atmosphere—good God, how old were the robots? Steffens looked at Ball, then at the silent robots, then out across the field to where the rest of them stood. The black wheat. Steffens felt a deep chill. Were they immortal? "Would you like to see a doctor?"
many days?" His only answer was an inhuman snarl, and the cruel blazing of those inhuman eyes. She fell face first to the floor. "I can't keep it up!" she cried. The sound of her voice rolled along the hot steel deck. "I cant! I cant!" A double handful of tepid water was thrown in her face. "Get up!" Rat stood over her, face twisted, his body hunched. "Get up!" She stared at him, dazed. He kicked her. "Get up!" The tepid water ran off her face and far away she heard Judith calling.... She forced herself up. Rat was
and didn't look at her. "You'll have to spend most of the trip in a hammock." "I can take it." Suddenly she smiled, wanly. "I was with the Fleet. How long will it take?" "Eight days, in that ship." Roberds lit his pipe, and carefully hid his emotions. He knew Peterson was harboring the same thoughts. Eight days in space, in a small ship meant for two, and built for planetary surface flights. Eight days in that untrustworthy crate, hurtling to save the lives of that girl and Gladney. "Who was that ... man? The one you put out?" Gray
The Beast-Jewel of Mars By V. E. THIESSEN The city was strange, fantastic, beautiful. He'd never been there before, yet already he was a fabulous legend—a dire, hateful legend. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Spring 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] He lay on his stomach, a lean man in faded one piece dungarees, and an odd metallic hat, peering over the side of the canal. Behind him the little winds sifted red dust into his collar, but he could not move; he could only
asked. "We call him Rat," Roberds said. She didn't ask why. She said: "Why couldn't he pilot the ship, I mean? What is his record?" Peterson opened his mouth. "Shut up, Peterson!" the Chief snapped. "We don't talk about his record around here, Miss Gray. It's not a pretty thing to tell." "Stow it, Chief," said Peterson. "Miss Gray is no pantywaist." He turned to the nurse. "Ever hear of the Sansan massacre?" Patti Gray paled. "Yes," she whispered. "Was Rat in that?" Roberds shook his head. "He didn't take part in it. But Rat was attached to a very
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How is the theme of capitalism explored throughout the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Expendables by Jim Harmon.
Relevant chunks:
space ship. We've enough concentrated supplies to last for a year. How far do we go? Why? When?" They stepped upon the Earth and felt the warmth of the sun and strolled toward the top of the hill. "The air smells clean," he said. "The ground feels good. I think I'll take off my shoes." She did. "Take off your boots, Michael. Try it." Wearily he pulled off his boots, stood in his bare feet. "It takes me back." "Yes," she said and began walking toward the hilltop. He followed, his boots slung around his neck. "There was a road
The Beast-Jewel of Mars By V. E. THIESSEN The city was strange, fantastic, beautiful. He'd never been there before, yet already he was a fabulous legend—a dire, hateful legend. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Spring 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] He lay on his stomach, a lean man in faded one piece dungarees, and an odd metallic hat, peering over the side of the canal. Behind him the little winds sifted red dust into his collar, but he could not move; he could only
Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science Fiction June 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. THE VALLEY By Richard Stockham Illustrated by Ed Emsh If you can't find it countless millions of miles in space, come back to Earth. You might find it just on the other side of the fence—where the grass is always greener. The Ship dove into Earth's sea of atmosphere like a great, silver fish. Inside the ship, a man and woman stood looking down at the expanse of land that
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
Why else would we have been built?" Steffens thought the robot would go on, but it didn't. The question, to Elb, was no question at all. Although Steffens knew already what the robot could not possibly have known—that the Makers were gone and would never come back—he was a long time understanding. What he did was push this speculation into the back of his mind, to keep it from Elb. He had no desire to destroy a faith. But it created a problem in him. He had begun to picture for Elb the structure of human society, and the robot—a
Question:
How is the theme of capitalism explored throughout the story?
Answer:
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[
"The theme of capitalism is explored throughout the story by the greed of the racketeer, Tony Carmen, and how he prefers profits over the environment. In the story, Professor Venetti creates a machine that can easily decompose anything without knowing how it works and where the decomposed particles go. His process of creating the device is also not carefully examined under the safety rules. Despite knowing these manufacturing facts and the uncertainty of its consequences, Tony Carmen makes this machine into a business and sells it for a considerable profit, with the collaboration of Professor Venetti. The theme of capitalism is shown through the preference for profits over safety when seeking profits from a product. It is also explored through Tony’s dealings with business corporates and how he attracts business corporations’ attention to sell their products. Revealed by Tony’s testimony, big business corporations would have detectives and their sources of information to buy the inventions and sell them. Finally, the mechanism of the business world and the dark side of capitalism are shown through Tony’s plan to sell the products and all the dirty work behind it when Professor Venetti’s secretary is reading the letters regarding their business matter from several organizations.",
"The story shows how commercial benefits may outweigh all the negative consequences of inventions and products. Tony Carmen says that the government would allow a private company like Arcivox to sell anything - they just have to find a commercial use for a potential product. Tony Carmen’s and Venetti’s desire to profit off of the professor’s mechanism leads to global warming and makes the threat of climate doomsday more than realistic. The story also shows that people disregard environmental repercussions when the commodity they’re using is convenient.\n\n\n",
"Capitalism is one of the most important themes in the story. Veretti’s and Tony’s hunger for money is what led them to selling these very controversial boxes, and Veretti deciding to look away when the boxes were used for murder. When convincing Veretti to work with him, Tony even compares him to Henry Ford and Sam Colt, two famous capitalists that also decided to look away when their inventions lead to death. Capitalism also was the reason that led to an absurd number of sales of the expendables, as consumers are always looking for their lives to be easier. The expendables provided this exact same service, as it was a very easy and simple way that people could get rid of trash.",
"One of the main themes explored in “The Expenables” is also the concept of capitalism. We are first introduced to a scientist working for the government with the best intentions to find a fix to a global issue through innovation. As the story goes on, however, he is lured by a stranger belonging to the mafia to take the easy and riskier path to speed up the process of creating a successful innovation. Additionally, when this machine works, we see the professor ditch his ethical concerns around it and rather starts getting attracted by the financial benefits he is told he could get by the stranger if he were to launch his product on the market. Instead of sticking with his initial intentions of helping the government, he chooses to partner with a large corporation who takes on his machines worldwide as he is promised a big sum of the stocks. This showcases human greed that arises from capitalism and how it can consume an individual to the point that they disregard all ethical thoughts, even when on a global level. Moreover, we are introduced to the idea of convenience the public is used to. Instead of ending his machines, the scientist creates another machine to counter the effect of his first one as he believes the public will not be able to part its convenience. This showcases the speed as to which capitalism has led our lives to adapt to and how because of that, people would choose convenience over the greater good at any time.\n"
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space ship. We've enough concentrated supplies to last for a year. How far do we go? Why? When?" They stepped upon the Earth and felt the warmth of the sun and strolled toward the top of the hill. "The air smells clean," he said. "The ground feels good. I think I'll take off my shoes." She did. "Take off your boots, Michael. Try it." Wearily he pulled off his boots, stood in his bare feet. "It takes me back." "Yes," she said and began walking toward the hilltop. He followed, his boots slung around his neck. "There was a road
The Beast-Jewel of Mars By V. E. THIESSEN The city was strange, fantastic, beautiful. He'd never been there before, yet already he was a fabulous legend—a dire, hateful legend. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Spring 1955. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] He lay on his stomach, a lean man in faded one piece dungarees, and an odd metallic hat, peering over the side of the canal. Behind him the little winds sifted red dust into his collar, but he could not move; he could only
Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science Fiction June 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. THE VALLEY By Richard Stockham Illustrated by Ed Emsh If you can't find it countless millions of miles in space, come back to Earth. You might find it just on the other side of the fence—where the grass is always greener. The Ship dove into Earth's sea of atmosphere like a great, silver fish. Inside the ship, a man and woman stood looking down at the expanse of land that
its own folly. In other words, should he become the MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH? CAST OF CHARACTERS ROY WALTON He had to adopt the motto— the ends justify the means . FITZMAUGHAM His reward for devoted service was—an assassin's bullet. FRED WALTON His ambition was to fill his brother's shoes—but he underestimated their size. LEE PERCY His specialty was sugarcoating bitter pills. PRIOR With the pen as his only weapon, could he save his son? DR. LAMARRE He died for discovering the secret of immortality. Contents I The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek,
Why else would we have been built?" Steffens thought the robot would go on, but it didn't. The question, to Elb, was no question at all. Although Steffens knew already what the robot could not possibly have known—that the Makers were gone and would never come back—he was a long time understanding. What he did was push this speculation into the back of his mind, to keep it from Elb. He had no desire to destroy a faith. But it created a problem in him. He had begun to picture for Elb the structure of human society, and the robot—a
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Who is Gravgak and what is his importance to the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Serpent River by Don Wilcox.
Relevant chunks:
mission that huge and depressing in eight short, vanishing days? How had his people gotten into such a condition? As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown across space from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashing on this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women. When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffs from the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of the huge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upon a forge. Solar radiations drenched them.
of futile sons? What can I do to save myself from dying eight days from now? Is there escape? His eyes widened, another image came to focus. Beyond this valley of cliffs, on a low mountain lay a perfect, unscarred metal seed. A metal ship, not rusted or touched by the avalanches. The ship was deserted, whole, intact. It was the only ship of all these that had crashed that was still a unit, still usable. But it was so far away. There was no one in it to help. This ship, then, on the far mountain, was the destiny
the Hymenops because there's no common ground of logic between us. Why try to interpret their intentions now?" Farrell threw up his hands in disgust. "Next you'll say this is an ancient Terran expedition that actually succeeded! There's only one way to answer the questions we've raised, and that's to go down and see for ourselves. Ready, Xav?" But uncertainty nagged uneasily at him when Farrell found himself alone in the helihopper with the forest flowing beneath like a leafy river and Xavier's scouter disappearing bulletlike into the dusk ahead. We never found a colony so advanced, Farrell thought. Suppose
is that you'll be at Travbur all day tomorrow, maybe even the next day. But you ought to be able to swing it if you hold out long enough." I sighed. "I know. It's that way everywhere in Northem. Our motto ought to be, 'Why make it difficult when with just a little more effort you can make it impossible?'" She started to laugh, and then, as she emerged from the passageway into the big circular room, she cut her laugh short. A second later, as I came along, I saw why. There were two Deacons by the central desk.
jaw? Watch him, he's up to something." The talk of ignorant men. Shano remembered. He poked behind the pipes and angrily slapped the toggle switches on the box. The captain would only scoff. He'd never believe there was a traitor aboard who had planted an electronic signal box, giving away the ship's position. He'd never believe the babblings of an old man. He straightened up, glaring angrily. He knew. And the knowledge made him cold and furious. He watched the engine room emergency exit as it opened cautiously. A chunky man backed out, holstering a flat blaster. He turned and
Question:
Who is Gravgak and what is his importance to the story?
Answer:
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[
"Gravgak is a guard who serves under Tomboldo, the leader of the Benzendella people, and escorts the humans after they meet. He is tall and muscular, with piercing eyes, and his limbs are painted with diamonds in green and black. He is knocked down during the second attack, and when Linden tries to tend to him, Gravgak knocks him out with his club. After Linden comes to a few weeks later, Gravgak apologizes for accidentally knocking him out, but it's not clear if he is being sincere about it being an accident. Linden's suspicions primarily come from Vauna's reaction, but Gravgak seems to hold some power over Vauna and Linden is not able to learn what Gravgak's true intentions are. ",
"Gravgak is one of the native Benzendella people. He is a tall guard with green and black diamonds painted on his legs. Tomboldo, the leader of the Benzendella, relies on Gravgak to make sure the group can travel safely to their dwellings after the initial attack, but Gravgak is more interested in the siren and trying to communicate with Linden and Campbell. When the sponge-tree warriors regroup and attack again, he grabs one of their clubs and confronts them as they advance—either rushing to fight them or to warn them to back away. When Linden and Campbell throw fire at the enemy, he is so close that the fire and blasts of rock knock him down. He looks suspiciously at Linden as he and Campbell minister to his wounds and use smelling salts to make Gravgak fully conscious, making him jump up while holding the club and sending the rock attached to the club flying into Linden’s head. Several days later after Linden comes to, Gravgak comes to see him and tells him the blow to Linden’s head was not intentional. Vauna appears not to believe him. As Gravgak leaves, he tells Vauna he wants to speak to her alone. Linden stops her until Gravgak yells at her, and she starts to leave with him; this time, her father stops them. Linden wonders if Gravgak and Vauna have a relationship, but he also considers the possibility that Gravgak is a traitor. \n\n",
"Gravgak is one of Tomboldo's most important guards. He is tall and muscular, and his legs and arms are covered with green and black diamond paintings. Jim notices his eyes first, which appear piercing and suspicious to him, and Gravgak continues to arouse his suspicions throughout the story. Gravgak keeps watch for the tree-disguised warriors and guards Jim and Split on their way back to the underground city. However, he shows signs of agitation and distraction and commands the two men to mimic the siren sounds along with the rest of Tomboldo's party. When the attackers once again descend upon their party and Jim throws a capsule bomb at them, Gravgak retrieves one of their clubs and charges. Jim interprets this behavior to mean one of two things--either Gravgak bravely defends his people or he intends to warn the attackers of Jim and Split's advanced weaponry. After another of Jim's capsule bombs injures Gravgak, Jim and Split attempt to attend to his wounds and resuscitate him. When he regains consciousness, he clubs Jim and knocks him out. After Jim recovers, Gravgak visits him to apologize, but Jim isn't sure if the attack was accidental, especially because Vauna doesn't seem to trust Gravgak. Vauna appears to be in some kind of relationship with Gravgak, whether as a lover or some kind of subservient. While this is not completely clear to Jim, he is certain that Vauna's distrust of Gravgak strengthens his feeling that Gravgak is a traitor.",
"Gravgak is one of the main sources of conflict and betrayal in this story. Gravgak is a very large warrior of the Benzendella people. He is strong and muscular. His arms and legs are painted with green and black diamonds. When Captain Linden first meets him, he describes Gravgak’s piercing eyes as suspicious. His motives are never truly known, but his actions betray him. \nAfter Linden and Split meet Tomboldo, Gravgak is sent to guard them. He rushes into battle and gets injured. Linden and Split heal him, but when he wakes up, he hits Linden over the head with a club. Whether or not he did that on purpose is up in the air. The injury Linden sustained required surgery and days of bed rest. It could have killed him. \nOnce Linden wakes up, Gravgak returns and aggressively demands Linden to get better. He claims that he did not mean to hit him on the head, but everyone doubts his sincerity and integrity. Even Vauna, Tomboldo’s daughter and Linden’s crush, does not believe Gravgak. However, she is bound to him in some way, perhaps by marriage, but her father comes first. Possibly a traitor, Linden will forever question Gravgak’s actions. \n"
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mission that huge and depressing in eight short, vanishing days? How had his people gotten into such a condition? As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown across space from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashing on this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women. When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffs from the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of the huge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upon a forge. Solar radiations drenched them.
of futile sons? What can I do to save myself from dying eight days from now? Is there escape? His eyes widened, another image came to focus. Beyond this valley of cliffs, on a low mountain lay a perfect, unscarred metal seed. A metal ship, not rusted or touched by the avalanches. The ship was deserted, whole, intact. It was the only ship of all these that had crashed that was still a unit, still usable. But it was so far away. There was no one in it to help. This ship, then, on the far mountain, was the destiny
the Hymenops because there's no common ground of logic between us. Why try to interpret their intentions now?" Farrell threw up his hands in disgust. "Next you'll say this is an ancient Terran expedition that actually succeeded! There's only one way to answer the questions we've raised, and that's to go down and see for ourselves. Ready, Xav?" But uncertainty nagged uneasily at him when Farrell found himself alone in the helihopper with the forest flowing beneath like a leafy river and Xavier's scouter disappearing bulletlike into the dusk ahead. We never found a colony so advanced, Farrell thought. Suppose
is that you'll be at Travbur all day tomorrow, maybe even the next day. But you ought to be able to swing it if you hold out long enough." I sighed. "I know. It's that way everywhere in Northem. Our motto ought to be, 'Why make it difficult when with just a little more effort you can make it impossible?'" She started to laugh, and then, as she emerged from the passageway into the big circular room, she cut her laugh short. A second later, as I came along, I saw why. There were two Deacons by the central desk.
jaw? Watch him, he's up to something." The talk of ignorant men. Shano remembered. He poked behind the pipes and angrily slapped the toggle switches on the box. The captain would only scoff. He'd never believe there was a traitor aboard who had planted an electronic signal box, giving away the ship's position. He'd never believe the babblings of an old man. He straightened up, glaring angrily. He knew. And the knowledge made him cold and furious. He watched the engine room emergency exit as it opened cautiously. A chunky man backed out, holstering a flat blaster. He turned and
|
Who is Tony Carmen and what happens to him in the story?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Expendables by Jim Harmon.
Relevant chunks:
THE HANGING STRANGER BY PHILIP K. DICK ILLUSTRATED BY SMITH [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Science Fiction Adventures Magazine December 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Ed had always been a practical man, when he saw something was wrong he tried to correct it. Then one day he saw it hanging in the town square. Five o'clock Ed Loyce washed up, tossed on his hat and coat, got his car out and headed across town toward his TV sales store. He was tired. His back and shoulders
the dreams. The problem of where to put the line between dream and reality began to worry Bruce. He would wake up and listen and take down what Terrence was saying, and then go to sleep again with increasing expectancy. His dream took on continuity. He could return to the point where he had left it, and it was the same—allowing even for the time difference necessitated by his periods of sleep. He met people in the dreams, two girls and a man. They had names: Pietro, Marlene, Helene. Helene he had seen from the beginning, but she became more
mission that huge and depressing in eight short, vanishing days? How had his people gotten into such a condition? As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown across space from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashing on this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women. When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffs from the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of the huge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upon a forge. Solar radiations drenched them.
hair, a package on her lap. Nylons and heels. Red coat and white angora sweater. Gazing absently ahead of her. A high school boy in jeans and black jacket. A great triple-chinned woman with an immense shopping bag loaded with packages and parcels. Her thick face dim with weariness. Ordinary people. The kind that rode the bus every evening. Going home to their families. To dinner. Going home—with their minds dead. Controlled, filmed over with the mask of an alien being that had appeared and taken possession of them, their town, their lives. Himself, too. Except that he happened to
half-turn of its body as it reached him. What was it doing? A stinger. Loyce stabbed wildly at it. It retreated, buzzing frantically. Loyce rolled and crawled toward the door. Tommy and Janet stood still as statues, faces blank. Watching without expression. Loyce stabbed again. This time the knife connected. The thing shrieked and faltered. It bounced against the wall and fluttered down. Something lapped through his mind. A wall of force, energy, an alien mind probing into him. He was suddenly paralyzed. The mind entered his own, touched against him briefly, shockingly. An utterly alien presence, settling over him—and
Question:
Who is Tony Carmen and what happens to him in the story?
Answer:
|
[
"Tony Carmen is a racketeer who threatens Professor Venetti to invent the machine to decompose corpses without leaving any traces. He is also a criminal who does not care about killing people, so he orders Professor Venetti to conduct the machine to wipe off the warehouse and the people inside. It is also implied that he kills the corpse he wants to get rid of. When he receives the machine Professor Venetti creates, he gives it to his subordinates and lets them modify it. He takes Professor Venetti to the place where they try the machine's function. He has many connections to business, the mafia, and the news, and he knows how to make profits by manipulating the business work behind the scene. When he realizes how much profit the machine can make after seeing its effects, he persuades Professor Venetti to collaborate with him. He leaks the information through the newspaper to attract the business corporates’ attention. When the agent from Atomic Energy Commission informs the harmful consequences of the machine, he strongly disagrees with the ban on the manufacture and the selling of the device. When Professor Venetti turns on the reverse machine, Tony is panicked, and he shouts to order the professor to turn off the engine.",
"Tony Carmen is one of the near-mafia criminals. At the beginning, he asks a scientist called Venetti, who works in the secret radioactive wastes disposal project, to come up with a mechanism that could help Tony get rid of the bodies Harry Keno leaves at his place. Soon the professor says that he created a mechanism that works like an incinerator but with no traces. Tony tries to understand where the bodies would go after disappearing in this machine. Venetti honestly says that he doesn’t know where they end up: it might be the past, the future, or another dimension. He also explains that the probability of finding these bodies is small, and Tony accepts this. Carmen also mentions that they could mass-produce these machines, which Venetti finds impractical. Tony calls it an Expendable and decides to test it. He asks his friend to halve the unit to cover the area of Harry Keno’s warehouse. When the professor turns it on, the building disappears, wiping out its inhabitants - Keno and his intimates - too. Tony starts leaking information about the mechanism to intrigue potential buyers, for example, ordering a small article in the Times. Soon he gets an offer from Arcivox - a manufacturer of radio and TV sets. Tony persuades the professor to sell the potent and control the manufacturing through a separate company. Their business grows fast. Months later, Tony learns that some government officials are going to come to them. He gets into Venetti’s office seconds before the AEC man shows up at the door. Tony starts threatening the officer but gets a witty comeback and then keeps silent. They hear that the government scientist learned that the energy the expendables seemingly destroyed has been turning into heat energy, increasing the mean temperature of Earth and leading to a climate catastrophe. Venetti proposes creating an engine that could use the excess energy by reversing the expendable mechanism. When they switch the engine on, Tony screams to the professor to turn the mechanism off, but the body of Harry Keno appears quickly. They both are under investigation. ",
"Tony Carmen is a member of the Italian mob who approaches Venetti. Tony is in desperate need of a machine to get rid of bodies. He believes that Venetti could create this device. When Venetti does create it, Tony convinces him to partner with him and start selling them commercially. Tony believes that there is a big space in the market for people to buy them. After he uses the machine to get rid of some men who were messing with his business. At the end, both Tony and Venetti are put on trial. ",
"Tony Carmen is a stranger who approaches Professor Venetti, claiming that he knows the Mafia. He threatens Venetti into helping him with his potential new invention. Carmen is in need of assistance to get rid of dead bodies he has. Venetti is currently working on a secret project with the government to create an innovation that would get rid of radioactive waste. Tony manages to make Venetti agree to help him by threatening him. When Venetti comes up with a machine, “the Expendable,” which he took unusual risks to create, they go test it together on a wide, empty lawn. Tony’s demeanor changes as he becomes more aggressive and makes the bodies, which is hinted that he actually murdered, disappear through the machine. He lures the professor to launch the machine on the market and helps him when a large corporation approaches them. As their business booms, they are approached by the Atomic Energy Commission which explains that their machines have been raising Earth’s temperature and need to be stopped. The professor explains that customer behavior will be hard to change and instead creates “Disexpendables” which does the opposite effect. Tony is very much against this and when put to use, the bodies he hid all come back. This allows the professor to restore justice by disproving the narrative that Tony was creating in which lawyers claimed that the professor approached Tony, suggesting to help him get rid of his enemies in exchange for financial backing for his innovation.\n"
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THE HANGING STRANGER BY PHILIP K. DICK ILLUSTRATED BY SMITH [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Science Fiction Adventures Magazine December 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Ed had always been a practical man, when he saw something was wrong he tried to correct it. Then one day he saw it hanging in the town square. Five o'clock Ed Loyce washed up, tossed on his hat and coat, got his car out and headed across town toward his TV sales store. He was tired. His back and shoulders
the dreams. The problem of where to put the line between dream and reality began to worry Bruce. He would wake up and listen and take down what Terrence was saying, and then go to sleep again with increasing expectancy. His dream took on continuity. He could return to the point where he had left it, and it was the same—allowing even for the time difference necessitated by his periods of sleep. He met people in the dreams, two girls and a man. They had names: Pietro, Marlene, Helene. Helene he had seen from the beginning, but she became more
mission that huge and depressing in eight short, vanishing days? How had his people gotten into such a condition? As if at a button pressed, he saw an image. Metal seeds, blown across space from a distant green world, fighting with long flames, crashing on this bleak planet. From their shattered hulls tumble men and women. When? Long ago. Ten thousand days. The crash victims hid in the cliffs from the sun. Fire, ice and floods washed away the wreckage of the huge metal seeds. The victims were shaped and beaten like iron upon a forge. Solar radiations drenched them.
hair, a package on her lap. Nylons and heels. Red coat and white angora sweater. Gazing absently ahead of her. A high school boy in jeans and black jacket. A great triple-chinned woman with an immense shopping bag loaded with packages and parcels. Her thick face dim with weariness. Ordinary people. The kind that rode the bus every evening. Going home to their families. To dinner. Going home—with their minds dead. Controlled, filmed over with the mask of an alien being that had appeared and taken possession of them, their town, their lives. Himself, too. Except that he happened to
half-turn of its body as it reached him. What was it doing? A stinger. Loyce stabbed wildly at it. It retreated, buzzing frantically. Loyce rolled and crawled toward the door. Tommy and Janet stood still as statues, faces blank. Watching without expression. Loyce stabbed again. This time the knife connected. The thing shrieked and faltered. It bounced against the wall and fluttered down. Something lapped through his mind. A wall of force, energy, an alien mind probing into him. He was suddenly paralyzed. The mind entered his own, touched against him briefly, shockingly. An utterly alien presence, settling over him—and
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What is the relationship between Eric and the citizens?
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After carefully reading the provided chunks, write a detailed response to the following question about The Beast-Jewel of Mars by V. E. Thiessen.
Relevant chunks:
surrounding night. A prism of black that spread out and was lost into the sky. He listened. Good God, he could hear something. Something that made him struggle frantically to close his ears, his mind, to shut out the sound. A buzzing. A distant, muted hum like a great swarm of bees. Loyce gazed up, rigid with horror. The splotch of darkness, hanging over the City Hall. Darkness so thick it seemed almost solid. In the vortex something moved. Flickering shapes. Things, descending from the sky, pausing momentarily above the City Hall, fluttering over it in a dense swarm and
antenna. A great concrete wall rising up in the darkness. A bad place for him to be near. He was too close. He had to keep moving, get farther away from them. Them? Loyce moved cautiously down the alley. Beyond the police station was the City Hall, the old-fashioned yellow structure of wood and gilded brass and broad cement steps. He could see the endless rows of offices, dark windows, the cedars and beds of flowers on each side of the entrance. And—something else. Above the City Hall was a patch of darkness, a cone of gloom denser than the
of the danger. The two men on the bus. I think they understood. Had escaped, like I did." He clenched his fists. "I killed one of them. I made a mistake. I was afraid to take a chance." The Commissioner nodded. "Yes, they undoubtedly had escaped, as you did. Freak accidents. But the rest of the town was firmly in control." He turned from the window. "Well, Mr. Loyce. You seem to have figured everything out." "Not everything. The hanging man. The dead man hanging from the lamppost. I don't understand that. Why? Why did they deliberately hang him there?"
of trucks, some chickens pecking in the dirt, a dog tied with a string. The white-clad attendant watched suspiciously as he dragged himself up to the station. "Thank God." He caught hold of the wall. "I didn't think I was going to make it. They followed me most of the way. I could hear them buzzing. Buzzing and flitting around behind me." "What happened?" the attendant demanded. "You in a wreck? A hold-up?" Loyce shook his head wearily. "They have the whole town. The City Hall and the police station. They hung a man from the lamppost. That was the
I was much too excited to work at theoretical research as I usually did after a hard day of tramping around. I bathed, I paced a while, I sat and hummed nervously and got up and paced again. I turned on the telepuppets. There was a drama about the space pilots who fly the nonconformist prisoners to the forests and pulp-acetate plants on Mars. Seemed that the Southem political prisoners who are confined to the southern hemisphere of Mars, wanted to attack and conquer the north. The nonconformists, led by our pilot, came through for the State in the end.
Question:
What is the relationship between Eric and the citizens?
Answer:
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[
"Eric sees the citizens in the most beautiful way and is willing to join them. They, on the contrary, meet him with hatred as they hear his name. The citizens surround and try to attack Eric, they are superstitious and believe him to be the destroyer of the city from the legends. The Elders from the Council send one of them to save Eric. They also believe him to be part of the legend, but they know more about the city and the machine. They think that it's time for the city to be destroyed as it has changed, the machine doesn't do good anymore. Nolette, the daughter of the city, also believes Eric to be the legend and stops the crowd with the use of her authority from killing him. Eric is overwhelmed and he obeys the council, listening with curiosity. He also feels happiness near the girl. ",
"The relationship between Eric and the citizens of the fabricated city is a very strange, tense and violent one. The citizens believe that Eric is \"Eric the Bronze\" and man from Earth who is prophesied to destroy their city. Eric first meets a citizen at the gate to the city, when he mentions his name, the guard strikes him in the head with his sword. He is taken into the city by the guard, where the crowd debate on killing him. He is seen as a threat to their very existence. Later, when Eric returns to the city once again to rescue his brother Garve, is captured by two men, who take him to the centre of the city, also preparing to beat and kill him. He is only saved by Nolette, Daughter of the City, and the respect the citizens have for her. \n",
"The first time he enters the city, the sentinel assumes that he is Eric the Bronze from the legend and hits Eric with a sword. The citizens stare at him with red hatred in their eyes once they learn that he is Eric the Bronze, here to destroy the city. The crowd are chanting for whips. Once he escapes the city, the gate closes right behind him. Later, when he enters the city again, he is taken prisoner by the citizens once more. They look at him coldly, calculatingly and are suggesting to whip him. However, once he speaks, they stand still and fear his words. However, a few seconds later, they decide to kill him at once so that he will not keep on coming back. Despite the hatred of the citizens, the Elders are quite friendly and they tell him about this city and the legend. They tell Eric to dwell in the building, assuring his safety. Once they find out that he is not Eric the Legend, he can choose to stay or go. ",
"There is a one-sided hateful relationship between Eric and the citizens. When the sentinel first assumes that Eric is Eric the Bronze, there is a flame of blue hatred in his eyes. Even after he wakes up, all the beautiful citizens stare at him with red hate. They want ships to be brought into the city to scourge him from it and yell for whips. An older man even strikes him on the hat and back with a stick. On the other hand, Eric is confused by all of this because he initially has no idea of the prophesy until the Elders explain it. When he returns to the city again, the citizens conclude that they should kill Eric. One of the guards even prepares to slash his sword downward on Eric’s neck until Nolette intervenes. "
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surrounding night. A prism of black that spread out and was lost into the sky. He listened. Good God, he could hear something. Something that made him struggle frantically to close his ears, his mind, to shut out the sound. A buzzing. A distant, muted hum like a great swarm of bees. Loyce gazed up, rigid with horror. The splotch of darkness, hanging over the City Hall. Darkness so thick it seemed almost solid. In the vortex something moved. Flickering shapes. Things, descending from the sky, pausing momentarily above the City Hall, fluttering over it in a dense swarm and
antenna. A great concrete wall rising up in the darkness. A bad place for him to be near. He was too close. He had to keep moving, get farther away from them. Them? Loyce moved cautiously down the alley. Beyond the police station was the City Hall, the old-fashioned yellow structure of wood and gilded brass and broad cement steps. He could see the endless rows of offices, dark windows, the cedars and beds of flowers on each side of the entrance. And—something else. Above the City Hall was a patch of darkness, a cone of gloom denser than the
of the danger. The two men on the bus. I think they understood. Had escaped, like I did." He clenched his fists. "I killed one of them. I made a mistake. I was afraid to take a chance." The Commissioner nodded. "Yes, they undoubtedly had escaped, as you did. Freak accidents. But the rest of the town was firmly in control." He turned from the window. "Well, Mr. Loyce. You seem to have figured everything out." "Not everything. The hanging man. The dead man hanging from the lamppost. I don't understand that. Why? Why did they deliberately hang him there?"
of trucks, some chickens pecking in the dirt, a dog tied with a string. The white-clad attendant watched suspiciously as he dragged himself up to the station. "Thank God." He caught hold of the wall. "I didn't think I was going to make it. They followed me most of the way. I could hear them buzzing. Buzzing and flitting around behind me." "What happened?" the attendant demanded. "You in a wreck? A hold-up?" Loyce shook his head wearily. "They have the whole town. The City Hall and the police station. They hung a man from the lamppost. That was the
I was much too excited to work at theoretical research as I usually did after a hard day of tramping around. I bathed, I paced a while, I sat and hummed nervously and got up and paced again. I turned on the telepuppets. There was a drama about the space pilots who fly the nonconformist prisoners to the forests and pulp-acetate plants on Mars. Seemed that the Southem political prisoners who are confined to the southern hemisphere of Mars, wanted to attack and conquer the north. The nonconformists, led by our pilot, came through for the State in the end.
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