Science Fiction Books

Take a fellow, reasonably young, personable enough, health perfect. Suppose he has all the money he can reasonably, or even unreasonably, use. He is successful in a number of different fields of work in which he is interested. Certainly he has security. Women? Well, maybe not any woman in the world he might want. But still, a very nice, choice selection of a number of the very finest physical... more...

he call on the TV-phone came right in the middle of my shaving. They have orders not to call me before breakfast for anything less than a national calamity. I pressed "Accept," too startled to take the lather from my face. "Hi, Gyp," George Kelly said to me from the screen. "Hurry it up, boy." He made no reference to my appearance on his screen. "Quit draggin' your... more...

Everyone supported the Martianprogram—until it struck home! Johnny Stark, director of the department of Interplanetary Relations for Mars' Settlement One, reread the final paragraph of the note which he had found on his desk, upon returning from lunch earlier in the day. His eye flicked rapidly over the moistly smeared Martian scrawl, ignoring the bitterness directed at him in the first... more...

â–  Uncle William Boles' war-battered old Geest gun gave the impression that at some stage of its construction it had been pulled out of shape and then hardened in that form. What remained of it was all of one piece. The scarred and pitted twin barrels were stubby and thick, and the vacant oblong in the frame behind them might have contained standard energy magazines. It was the stock... more...

"Is the maneuver progressing as you wish. Dr. Bird?" asked the Chief of the Air Corps. The famous scientist lowered his binoculars and smiled. "Exactly, General," he replied. "They are keeping a splendid line." "It is the greatest concentration of air force that this country has ever seen," said General Merton proudly. With a nod, Dr. Bird raised his glasses to his eyes... more...

hat Kenzie MacKenzie was a mad scientist hardly showed at all. To see him ambling down the street in loose jointed manner, with sandy hair uncombed, blue eyes looking vaguely beyond normal focus, you might think here was a young fellow dreaming over how his gal looked last night. It might never occur to you that he was thinking of—ants. Of course, we fellows in the experimental lab all knew it, but... more...

THE HARRISES IN NEW YORK It was five o'clock in the afternoon, when a bright little messenger boy in blue touched the electric button of Room No. —— in Carnegie Studio, New York City. At once the door flew open and a handsome young artist received a Western Union telegram, and quickly signed his name, "Alfonso H. Harris" in the boy's book. "Here, my boy, is twenty-five... more...

he IWC program was a newscast by Bill Howard, and the news was particularly vicious that night. Bill, his big homely face leaning across a desk toward the viewer, talked in horrified tones of the "pest-sub" that had reputedly got stuck in the Suez and spread epidemic across Cairo. It was easy to assume, Bill told his audience, that the nations most interested in creating a crisis in the world... more...

"If you called me here to tell me to have a child," Mary Pornsen said, "you can just forget about it. We girls have made up our minds." Hugh Farrel, Chief Medical Officer of the Exodus VII, sighed and leaned back in his chair. He looked at Mary's husband. "And you, Ralph," he said. "How do you feel?" Ralph Pornsen looked at Mary uncomfortably, started to speak and... more...

"Your name?" "Cole. Martin Cole." "Your profession?" "A very important one. I am a literary agent specializing in science fiction. I sell the work of various authors to magazine and book publishers." The Coroner paused to study Cole; to ponder the thin, mirthless smile. The Coroner said, "Mr. Cole, this inquest has been called to look into the death of one Sanford... more...