Mend utopian aberrant
In the first volume of S-F, reporting on 1955, I pointed out with some pride that as many as 50 or 60 s-f stories had appeared inslick, quality, and other non-s-f magazines. Last year more than that number was accounted for in the “Playboy-type” magazines alone. With what appeared in the slick and quality magazines, there were, I should estimate, upward of 200 stories (fantasy and s-f) published in non-s-f periodicals in 1959—equal to the contents of at least three more full digest-size magazines, but with circulations (in many cases) in the hundreds, instead of tens, of thousands. "Yes." Good enough, Alto decided. Chicago-style, they hid the sonovac in a triple-bass case, stored it in Altos office. The creature wrapped itself cozily around the abbey like a moist rag. It started on the East Wing, then gooed over the North, slithered part of itself to the West and met its tail with its nose on the South. The moment of confrontation, front to rear, was rare for the creature and for an instant it fell under the impression that it had encountered a friend. It would have tipped its hat if it had a hat, but it had no hat so it snorted recognition. Its rear end gave no sign, except a faint pulsation, so the creature bit it in primitive rage. A bubble of pain ran through its nervous system along internal cords like seaweed and reached its medulla oblongata with a clonk. The creature wailed. A teardrop formed and gurgled out of a red eye. mend utopian aberrant "I beg pardon," I said dutifully. The world should know his prowess! It was a mighty tabletop victory. "The Leaders finished. His successors are fighting among themselves. This is the end of the Thousand Year Reich." She grinned again. "I did it." It noted, disinterestedly, that the shape of the spaceship was slightly altered. It was widening slowly near the base, and bulging about the middle, and losing height. The Twerlik did not care. It had shown its gratitude, and that was all that mattered. the starman says hes going to make me better! ! ! Maybe I could spot Hest somewhere up near the platform. Well, step in here, sir. Ill check. The other turned and led the way. The floppers began to wheel Hitchcock out of the room. Hitchcock was raving. Clarice said,Have another potato, at regular intervals. Our group was small. Beside myself, there were six girls. Miss Luptik had given them names. I became Blue Bear, according to the custom. And, finally, although it is quite impossible to thank individually each of the many people whose suggestions, criticism, advice, clerical help, or just cups-of-coffee assistance, went into the making of this book, I must express particular appreciation, for assistance entirely beyond the limits of probability, to Sharon Robinson and Bernard K.Kay. Cohen and Brill asked (in ways far apart),If order and organization seem to be a natural part of the universe, why cant we remove these qualities from coarse matter and space, and study them separately? The. answer was BC-flight. The stupid brute! Mangon shrugged.Its my talent, but living at the stockade, let in at back doors, cleaning up the verbal garbage— it’s a degraded job. I want to help Madame Gioconda. She will need a secretary when she starts to go on tour. "This far into galactic centre? Come off It. They should be hanging out around the star-pit!" Finally, I should like to express my considerable gratitude to those who assisted in compiling this volume—most notably James Blish and Merril Zissman, who revised and copied the music for the songs; Ann Pohl, who did most of the cataloging; and Barbara Norville, Oriole Kingston, Mae Sugrue, and Bob Bone, for a marvellous assortment of miscellany..
