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"Nope," Ratlit said. "Cause he dont smell funny." My name is Oliver August. The yellow and tangerine glider rose into the sky and climbed across the face of the storm-cloud. Fifty yards from the dark billows it was buffetted by the shifting air, but Manuel soared in and began to cut away at the dark face. Drops of black rain fell across the terrace at our feet. Thank you, I said, tucking it in my jacket. "Selina," I shouted. "Dont open it!" Dear God! CIRCE UNDERSEA OR A CRY FROM THE DEPTHS Science fiction now means many different things to many people; but what it meant that was, for a short time, important is no longer so. Bretnor was right, and the time is now: his 'integrated literature'is 'going on all around us'. There was the slightest hesitation before Kamiko said,No. The cause Amity-san struggles for has made her many enemies. We stopped by his shoulder and gazed up at the motionless profile. The lips were parted slightly, the open eye cloudy and occluded, as if injected with some blue milky liquid, but the delicate arches of the nostrils and eyebrows invested the face with an ornate charm that belied the brutish power of the chest and shoulders. Fred Brown, once best known—outside of s-f—for his award-winning mysteries, has of recent years become an irrepressible miniaturizer, publishing trios of fantasy-humor vignettes in one magazine after another. (A snapcrackling sampling of the Brown quickies is in his recent collection, Nightmares and Geezenstacks, Bantam, 1961.) Here he foreshortens a situation only slightly different from Mr. Sambrots. Mangon sat down on the bed. The cabin seemed small and dingy, and he was saddened by Madame Giocondas disinterest. Having brought her all the way out to the dumps he wondered how he was going to keep her amused. Fortunately the stockade intrigued her. When she suggested a stroll through it, he was only too glad to oblige.* * * * The patient was a middle-aged man complaining of progressive weakness and fever.Im getting scared, Doc, he said. “I’ve lost 20 pounds in the last two months, and last night I coughed up some blood.” Both the doctors were annoyed. The senior one never stopped grumbling at Cherpas. I tried to ignore the insult and concentrated on writing the cheque. One of the outsize drops broke across my knuckles, splattering the pink paper. I couldnt help feeling awed that Frenchy, whod shared my last crusts, knew all this about the inner workings of the regime. I checked the thought instantly. Once you started being interested in them, or hating them or being emotionally involved with them in any way at all— they'd got you. It was something I'd sworn never to forget — only indifference was safe, indifference was the only weapon which kept you free, for what your freedom was worth. They say you get hardened to anything. Well, I'd had nearly ten years of it — disgusting, obscene cruelty carried out by stupid men who, from top to bottom, thought they were masters of the Earth — and I wasn't hardened. That was why I cultivated indifference. And the Leader — Our Führer — was no mad genius either. Mad and stupid. That was even worse. I couldn't understand, then, how he'd managed to do what he'd done. Not then. I dont believe that, I said shortly, and Fitzgerald, the government man, told me quietly, Neither do we. We guess.” Well, they try to get past the wall, and when they do, they die, because the wall is what separates heaven from the rest of the universe..