Ambiguous poke clean
For some reason, possibly because he had little liking for his own kind, possibly because he had no family, possibly because he was small, McKooly felt a deep and sincere affection for animals. He fed stray cats, adopted lost dogs, kept three white mice in his hotel room and put bread crumbs on his window sill for pigeons. That is undoubtedly true—for an individual molecule. When, however, quintillions of molecules are involved as is the case with even the most microscopic samples of thiotimoline actually used in the individual units of even the most sophisticated telechronic batteries, the chance that all of those quintillions, or even adetectable fraction of them, will fail to dissolve is infinitesimal. Susan followed her to the kitchen. No, Cordice said. He felt a Presence over the pit. It was anxious and sorrowful. It was familiar and strange and expected and very right. His hairy fathers were no part of it, but they greeted it and spoke through him. Mose went over to it and laid his hands on one of the twisted bars and the critter stood beside him and laid its hands on, too, and they pulled together. It was no use. They could move the metal some, but not enough to pull it back in shape again. He would be glad to leave. The dome was like a prison. Outside, the wind was bitter cold and the sea crashed endlessly on the islands rocky shore. The domesticated Floppers were always underfoot, brainlessly stupid. His quarters had none of the comforts a civilized man was accustomed to, and the food he got was abominably plain. I explained that I didnt think that sort of nonsense was worth saving, and Miss Collins, I could tell, was very impressed with my reasoning because she copied that statement down word for word. It is always interesting to me what some people will pick out as important. Less happily,it is also necessary to record here, with no space to do more than record, the deaths of two writers of major importance to speculative fiction: Paul Linebarger (Cordwainer Smith) and Charles Beaumont. It almost seems that the trend is to using the label when it seems helpful, and omitting it when it does not. One hesitates to make any assumption of such widespread sanity, but the magazine situation almost requires it. Some readers, and most writers, will already have noticed that thisAnnual contains no Honorable Mentions listing. For the last two or three years, the attempt to compile such a list has been increasingly frustrating. The diffusion is too great: Even if it were within my powers to be certain I have seen everything entitled to consideration in a given year, I no longer know where to draw the line. 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. Nibs continued to scratch for another half minute; Mrs. Williams ran a very firm class. Then the mistress nodded briefly; exercise books scurried into satchels, buckles snapped shut, fountain pens were closed and rammed back into blazer pockets. There was the sort of straining silence that only comes between last bell and dismissal. Mrs. Williams eagled at the girls, compressed her lips. Then she turned and scanned the board with a vaguely resentful air, as if the end of classes had taken her completely by surprise. The corners of Susans mouth turned upward the smallest fraction. This was all part of the ritual. Several years. Were still checking—call you back in thirty seconds. Glad you’re okay, it added belatedly. "Send him to Polosckis," I said. "Probably needs an extra grease-monkey. Now let me get back to work, huh?" 17 Seventeen* * * * Heavily astride her baluchitherium once more, Dandi Lashadusa headed back to the empty region called Ghinomon. She fought her bitterness, trying to urge herself towards resignation. No, were not the Gestapo, the foreigner spoke fluent Czech. And you’ve not been arrested, either. You’re mobilized from now on.” He was answered, not only by a dazzling sheet of summer lightning, but also by thunder and rain drops. The Twerlik sadly filedscrewy in close juxtaposition to the men-concept in its brain, and when at last the men-things had lain upon the gray sand and moved no more, it transmuted their elements into that substance they loved so well with its last burst of waning strength. "No elephant jokes," Monica said..
