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"Who has it now, then?" she asked. Her voice was controlled, but only just. "Who has it?" It is part of the same happy blurring of edges that Daniel KeyesFlowers for Algernon was issued recently by Harcourt with neither labels nor disclaimers on the jacket—and that Gold Medal’s Beaumont selection.The Magic Man, did specifyscience fantasy out front, when the earlier collections from which it was culled had avoided the tag like the plague-carrier it was known to be for a serious and talented young writer. "What makes you say that?" Science-fiction writers carry this farther than most: there are very few who have not at least once constructed an extensive glossary of an alien language, (If a story contains five words of Arcturan, you may be assured that a lexicography of 50 or 500 more was on a wall chart or in a notebook at the author's left hand as he worked. I myself have a cardfile indexing a complete genealogy of more than a hundred names cross-bred on board a star-ship originally crewed by twenty women and four men— the residue of two short stories totalling less than 10,000 words.) Few of these ventures remain parenthetical in nature although they are sometimes more inventive and engaging than the formal stories. One reason I embrace the word fabulationso eagerly is that it provides an extension of critical vocabulary for the discussion of the increasingly acceptable and necessary body of work which is neither 'fiction' by traditional standards, nor 'essay' nor 'exposition' nor 'reportage': something that might have been called fiction-science.(The classic example would be Asimov's famous 'Thiotimoline' article; the best-known recent one, The Report from Iron Mountain.)'Confluence' is one of the rare pieces of this sort to see prints although its publication in Punchwas in a slightly altered version. "I thought that she was never leaving you. How can she come back to you?" Another lie? Sabina wasnt sure. "But all you bring home in credits is your pay." Well, I am. This idea was so ridiculous that Yechida laughed despite her anguish. Neither of them worried about being overheard or spied upon. Besides being equipped with hush devices and blanketing equipment, the building was guarded by Reeves and Donahue, whose combined senses of perception could pick up any activity for miles around which might be inimical to the Society. Do you have any idea who wrote them? No. Scared of a whipping. Scared of God. I studied this lonely guy. His name was Mack—Id heard him called that. He was probably ten years older than I was, which made him in his middle forties—plenty old enough to have dozens of potential Contacts. There was nothing visibly wrong with him except this look of unspeakable misery he wore—and if he really had no Contacts at all, then I was surprised the look was of mere misery, not of terror. I make it five dead and two seriously wounded, John. Now keep in mind, folks, these figures are unofficial. Ed, can you give us a closeup on that south slope? If I had any lingering doubts, they are gone. It is actually happening: the cosmonaut space-acrobatics and the Gemini launching programs are not simply part of a global drama of prestige and influence conflicts. We are actually on our way. In another year or two, someone will set foot (or spaceboot) on the moons surface for the first time. I know it is so now, because the Times is seriously disturbed about the cost of exploring for life on Mars.* * * * The boy saw that he was not going to be punished. His frightened expression disappeared and he smiled and hummed as he came back with the broom to sweep the floor. A few of the rowdier customers kept up the remarks, amusing themselves at his expense. He was on a high, curving overpass that looked down on a lower overpass and farther down onto a 12-lane straightaway leading to the citys center. As far as Charlie could see in any direction cars were jammed end to end, lane to lane, and nothing moved. The pushing had stopped. Evidently there was nowhere else to push..
