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A slice-of-novel, appropriate to the moment, from Kurt Vonneguts God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater (Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1965): and everybody laughed, john kicked him on the b u m and sent him back to his dormitory and we all laughed except the Starman. Graeme . . . ? said this man, as Ian stopped before him. His voice in this moment of off-guardedness betrayed its two levels, the semi-hoodlum whine and harshness underneath, the polite accents above. My boys . . . you didnt—” he stumbled, “leave anything with them when you were coming in?” (Of course, Tom Disch had to go to Spain to get hepatitis. When he wrote about his writing, publishing, and travel plans he added sadly: . . .for the next year I am going to be the only teetotaling swinger in Europe. Doctors orders. Germany, Spain, England, France/ bier, Jerez,ale, vin, kaput. . .) "I dont want it for salvage. I want it for a present." Sandy looked up again. "Yeah. To give to someone else. Finish the tuneup and give it to me, okay?" Jake said,Hey! You in there? I do. But are you certain the girl wont commit another such crime if her guardian is threatened again? Yes, she said, from a distance, but you cannot go in.” " ... Thank you so much for letting us give you this wonderful news. Remember, when in doubt, call Carlsons." It was a good time to hunt. No wind blew loose snow on the screechers tracks, blotting them. No mistiness obscured the distance, and the sky’s light shimmered on the white land. Qua-orellee kept his eyes tightly lidded to lessen the glare. The tracks were new. The beast could not be very far ahead. Qua-orellee loped along, following them, but he stayed well aside of the trail for fear the snow would open under him like a mouth and devour him. Ah, but you do, Quincannon said. Or rather did. Like Mr. Wrixton, Sonderberg was drawn to variety houses such as this one. My guess is you made his acquaintance in much the same way as you did my client, and used your no doubt considerable charms to lure him into your blackmail scheme.” July 25—I was looking at some of my old progress reports and its very funny but I cant read what I wrote. I can make out some of the words but they dont make sense. Eventually, we will again have an integrated literature. It will owe much, artistically, to non-science fiction. But its dominant attitudes and purposes ... will have evolved from those of modern science fiction. The giants remaining foot rose into the air, a steel hawser fixed to the large toe, evidently in preparation for the following day. The surrounding beach had been disturbed by a score of workmen, and deep ruts marked the ground where the hands and foot had been hauled away. A dark brackish fluid leaked from the stumps, and stained the sand and the white cones of the cuttlefish. As I walked down the shingle I noticed that a number of jocular slogans, swastikas, and other signs had been cut into the gray skin, as if the mutilation of this motionless colossus had released a sudden flood of repressed spite. The lobe of one of the ears was pierced by a spear of timber, and a small fire had burned out in the center of the chest, blackening the surrounding skin. The fine wood ash was still being scattered by the wind. LEIGH BRACKETT:Purple Priestess of the Mad Moon, F&SF, Oct Weisbaum grinned.You didnt break nothing, hillbilly. You just got lucky and hit somewhere on the target. Every time you hit it, they pull it down and mark where your shot hit so you can correct your sights. See, here it comes back up again..
