The Mammoth Book of Golden Age SF: Ten Classic Stories from the Birth of Modern Science Fiction Writing

The Mammoth Book of Golden Age SF: Ten Classic Stories from the Birth of Modern Science Fiction Writing

Language: English

Pages: 512

ISBN: 0786719052

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

The Mammoth Book of Golden Age SF: Ten Classic Stories from the Birth of Modern Science Fiction Writing

Language: English

Pages: 512

ISBN: 0786719052

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


The Golden Age of Science Fiction, from the early 1940s through the 1950s, saw an explosion of talent in SF writing, including authors such as Isaac Asimov, Robert A. Heinlein, and Arthur C. Clarke. Their writing helped science fiction gain wide public attention, and left a lasting impression upon society. The same writers formed the mold for the next three decades of science fiction, and much of their writing remains as fresh today as it was then.

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for the body itself, really, since it’s his own machine, in one sense. But he doesn’t own it, or me. I’m not sure just how the question would be decided by the courts – there again, we’ve got a problem without precedent. The body may be his work, but the brain that makes it something more than a collection of metal rings is me, and he couldn’t restrain me against my will even if he wanted to. Not legally, and not—” She hesitated oddly and looked away. For the first time Harris was aware of

glaring light of the Inside. It wasn’t until later that she realized that this was a door such as was made by her own people in the Barrier, but a door of truly gigantic proportions. But all that mattered at first was the cool, refreshing shade. Then she took stock of her surroundings. Enough light came in through the barely open doorway for her to see that she was in a cave. It was the wrong shape for a cave, it is true, having flat, perfectly regular walls and floor and ceiling. At the far

dangerous for careless and suicidal human beings. Fine needlework had been her hobby, but the humanoids took away her needles. She had enjoyed driving the car, but that was no longer allowed. She turned for escape to a shelf of novels, but the humanoids took them all away, because they dealt with unhappy people in dangerous situations. One afternoon, Underhill found her in tears. “It’s too much,” she gasped bitterly. “I hate and loathe every naked one of them. They seemed so wonderful at

“Jorgenson isn’t here. We’ve got thirty-one men lying around, and he isn’t one of them; and if he’d been one of the seventeen dead, you’d know it. I didn’t know Jorgenson was working, even.” “He had to be – it was his process! Look, Ferrel, I was distinctly told that he was taken to you – foreman dumped him on the litter himself and reported at once! Better check up, and quick – with Hoke only half able, I’ve got to have Jorgenson!” “He isn’t here – I know Jorgenson. The foreman must have

persons was gathered outside the door, but Brager, one of the policemen, was keeping them out of the shop. “Hey, Brager,” said Caquer, and the patrolman came in and closed the door behind him. “Yes, Lieutenant?” “Know anything about this? Who found him, and when, and so on?” “I did, almost an hour ago. I was walking by on my beat when I heard the shot.” Caquer looked at him blankly. “The shot?” he repeated. “Yeah. I ran in and there he was dead and nobody around. I knew nobody had come out

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