By Frederik Pohl
Even though the 3 half serial starting within the June 1952 factor in collaboration with Cyril Kornbluth had validated Frederik Pohl as a powerful contributor, this novelette within the April 1954 factor used to be his first solo contribution and marked him as a big addition to the becoming roster of social satirists enlisted through Horace Gold, the editor of GALAXY journal. The audacious and patchwork proposal underlying this tale (the richer you're the much less you're pressured to devour; the best poverty is concerned with the aggregation of products) was once Horace Gold’s and in keeping with Pohl he had provided it to nearly all of his usual individuals, inquiring for a narrative founded at the proposal. the belief lacks all credibility, everybody (including Pohl) advised him and everybody refused to jot down whatever so patently unimaginable till, based on Pohl, Horace browbeat him into an try and Pohl determined that it was once much less difficulty to bring whatever than proceed to withstand. To his utter surprise, the tale was once acquired through Gold and his readership with nice glee, used to be one of the most well-liked GALAXY ever released (or Pohl) and some of the most anthologized. no matter if this tested the audacity and scope of Gold’s unreason or even if it proven Gold’s genius (or either) Pohl was once totally not able to determine. The sculpted consumer-obsessed society used to be used back through Pohl many years later within the novelette "The guy Who Ate the World" which used to be way more credible (consumption-obsession as one of those own tyranny) and, maybe for that very cause, less profitable, slightly remembered.
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Even if the 3 half serial starting within the June 1952 factor in collaboration with Cyril Kornbluth had demonstrated Frederik Pohl as an impressive contributor, this novelette within the April 1954 factor was once his first solo contribution and marked him as an incredible addition to the growing to be roster of social satirists enlisted through Horace Gold, the editor of GALAXY journal.
In Gramarye, the place every body who's someone is a witch, and the place Rod Gallowglass has in basic terms simply all started to benefit of the notable powers he possesses, a conflict among worlds has all started. within the struggle to maintain freedom, Rod is ready to benefit if his power can be sufficient to avoid wasting his helpful world--and all democracy--from destruction.
Centuries after the catastrophic Deliverance, humanity is back attaining into area. And Clovis, a tender pupil operating within the spaceship-construction backyard, can make the adaptation among good fortune and failure. For his mysterious new lover, Merrial, has seduced him into the assumption of extrapolating the ship's destiny from the darkish files of the prior.
As Billy keeps his mysterious come upon with the ship's strong center, often called mom, he starts to shape an odd reference to her. mom has generated the Remants' atmosphere and he or she is lonely after centuries of isolation. but if mom delves into the depths of Yago's sinister brain, an odd computer-generated conflict pits Yago and a military of Civil warfare squaddies opposed to the Blue Meanies.
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Extra resources for The Midas Plague (The Galaxy Project)
It jutted up at a steep angle, piled on three beneath it. Like spilled matches. He jumped. The log split, and he frantically leaped off again. Desperately, he clutched for purchase. His fingers slipped; he fell back. He dug in wildly, trying to draw his body up on a flat surface. He made it. Gasping, panting for breath, Barton lay stretched out on the log, waves of relief flooding over him. Finally, he pulled himself to a sitting position. If he could go a little farther he should be able to catch hold of the truck itself.
I even made up a special golem with an extra-large brain, but it couldn’t tell me anything. Maybe you can help me with that. How are you on the clay? ” He came close to Barton and lowered his voice. “Nobody around here knows anything. There’s actual opposition. I have to work completely alone. If I had some help…” “Yeah,” Barton managed. Good Lord, what had he got himself into? “I’d like to trace one of the Wanderers,” Peter continued, with a rush of excitement. “See where they come from and how they do it.
He had almost fallen asleep over his dinner plate. His coffee had cooled to a scummy brown; the greasy potatoes were hardening fast. ” he muttered. The man sitting next to him pushed his chair back and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He was plump and well-dressed; a middle-aged man in a dark blue pin-striped suit and white shirt, attractive tie, heavy ring on his thick white finger. “My name’s Meade. Ernest Meade. ” He smiled a gold-toothed professional smile. “I’m a doctor. ” “Just tired,” Barton said.