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Edited by Judith Merril After sleeping for a few nights in the open, Traven returned to the concrete beach where he had woken on his first morning on the island, and made his home—if the term could be applied to that damp crumbling hovel—in a camera bunker fifty yards from the target lakes. The dark chamber between the thick canted walls, tomblike though it might seem, gave him a sense of physical reassurance. Outside, the sand drifted against the sides, half-burying the narrow doorway, as if crystallizing the immense epoch of time that had elapsed since the bunkers construction. The narrow rectangles of the five camera slits, their shapes and positions determined by the instruments, studded the west wall like cryptic ideograms. Variations on these runic ciphers decorated the walls of the other bunkers, the unique signature of the island. In the mornings, if Traven was awake, he would find the sun divided into its five emblematic beacons. Joe turned back to his lathe.Youll get it. Tell ya landlord to keep his pants on, because I don’t have it now. So quit needling me. I know it, but this is not your hunt. Old ones are hunted more than they hunt. Yes, sir. All will be done to your satisfaction. "An," I said, "to be trapped, there has to be somewhere you cant go. For it to bug you, there has to be something else around that can." Its him, said Tyburn, who’s likely to get the soldier —and that’s why I’m here. You ought to know that.” young sexy girl pics "Like hell. Ill bluff my way out. The guards will be tired and I doubt if they know anything. Anyway all roads lead to the same destination now." Its all my fault, said Gus, for putting all my pegs in one casket.”* * * *ATOMIC FISSION It was a small, round cave, little bigger than a telephone booth, and mercifully empty. He huddled as far back from the entrance as he could, clutching the machine protectively in front of him, and peered squintingly out into the clearing. So a new dream supplanted the old: young Ash as a doctor, curing the diseases mankind suffered. But the boy, happy enough to exorcise warts from a playmates hands or mend a broken bone by running his fingers over the flesh outside, wanted no such future. The overriding interest of his life was machinery. At six he had rehabilitated an old bicycle each Maxill girl had used in turn until it was worn beyond repair. Beyond any repair except young Ash’s, that is. At eight he restored decrepit alarm clocks to service, at ten he could fix the tractor as well or better than the Henryton garage. Nan supposed she ought to be happy about a son who might be a great engineer or inventor; unfortunately she thought the world of freeways and nuclear weapons less desirable than the one she had known as a girl—Prohibition and Depression or not. A light was switched on in those jade eyes. The situation was more gratifying to the reader in the field of the s-f short story. There were satisfactory one-author collections by Heinlein, Pohl, Sheckley and Sturgeon, and distinguished ones by Aldiss (Galaxies like Grains of Sand), Anderson(Guardians of Time), Merril(Out of Bounds) and Clifford Simak(The Worlds of Clifford Simak). And again Philip Jose Farmer was astonishing; hisStrange Relations goes on the permanent list of important collections—creative and stimulating s-f (in the fullest sense) which suggests that such relation-words as father or “sister” have an archetypal meaning quite aside from the accidents of our improbable reproductive system. After she had finished her drink, I tried as diplomatically as I could to broach the matter of getting her back into the plastic case so that I could wrap her up. It was extremely embarrassing, the more so because of the interesting and adult conversation she carried on. One can scarcely interrupt a young lady and wrap her up in the midst of a discussion of the murals of Orozco and Rivera—she is fond of Mexican art and knows a good deal about it. Therefore I waited, hoping that she would grow tired and fall asleep, so that I could take the necessary action. E. C. TubbToo Bad,SciF #40, Apr. The Twerlik was abruptly aware, then, of yet another new sensation: gratitude.This tall thing, it said, and at the same time filed away its first knowledge of differentiation in heights for later reference, “has done theme a service, in a moment, and theme isbettered, andgrateful!” I think Id put it differently, the Holy Man replied. To be precise, I must say this. You never will achieve your heart’s desire without my aid. Your way of doing things is not quite good enough.” Did he? And for what reason?.
