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Bleiler, Everett F. (ed.) - The Best Science Fiction Stories: 1949 / Блейлер, Эверетт Ф. (ред.) - Лучшие НФ рассказы: 1949 [1949, EPUB, ENG]

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Everett F. Bleiler & T. E. Dikty (editors) - The Best Science Fiction Stories: 1949

Название: The Best Science Fiction Stories: 1949 / Лучшие НФ рассказы: 1949
Год выпуска: 1949
Под редакцией: Everett F. Bleiler & T. E. Dikty / Эверетт Ф. Блейлер & Т. Е. Дикти
Издательство: Frederick Fell
Формат: EPUB
Качество: OCR
Язык: английский

Описание:
Первый выпуск первого в истории ежегодника типа "лучшая фантастика года". Всего в серии вышло 6 антологий рассказов и 3 антологии повестей.
Introduction: Trends in Modern Science-Fiction essay by Melvin Korshak
Preface essay by Everett F. Bleiler and T. E. Dikty
Mars Is Heaven! / Третья экспедиция short story by Ray Bradbury
Ex Machina novelette by Henry Kuttner (as by Lewis Padgett)
The Strange Case of John Kingman / Странная история Джона Кингмана short story by Murray Leinster
Doughnut Jockey short story by Erik Fennel
Thang / Танг short story by Martin Gardner
Period Piece short story by John R. Pierce (as by J. J. Coupling)
Knock / Стук в дверь short story by Fredric Brown
Genius / Гений novelette by Poul Anderson
And the Moon Be Still As Bright / И по-прежнему лучами серебрит простор луна... novelette by Ray Bradbury
No Connection / Нет связи short story by Isaac Asimov
In Hiding / В укрытии novelette by Wilmar H. Shiras
Happy Ending / Исполнение желаний novelette by Henry Kuttner and C. L. Moore
Remember the three monkeys, Speak No Evil, Hear No Evil, and See No Evil? There should have been a fourth one, Do No Evil, but he became civilized…

No Connection
By Isaac Asimov


Raph was a typical American of his times. Remarkably ugly, too, by American standards of our times. The bony structure of his jaws was tremendous and the musculature suited it. His nose was arched and wide and his black eyes were small and forced wide apart by the span of said nose. His neck was thick, his body broad, his fingers spatulate, with strongly curved nails.
If he had stood erect, on thick legs with large, well-padded feet, he would have topped two and a half yards. Standing or sitting, his mass neared a quarter of a ton.
Yet his forehead rose in an unrestricted arc and his cranial capacity did not stint. His enormous hand dealt delicately with a pen, and his mind droned comfortably on as he bent over his desk.
In fact, his wife and most of his fellow-Americans found him a fine-looking fellow.
Which shows the alchemy of a long displacement along the time-axis.
Raph, Junior, was a smaller edition of our typical American. He was adolescent and had not yet lost the hairy covering of childhood. It spread in a dark, close-curled mat across his chest and back, but it was already thinning and perhaps within the year he would first don the adult shirt that would cover the proudly-naked skin of manhood.
But, meanwhile, he sat in breeches alone, and scratched idly at a favorite spot just above the diaphragm. He felt curious and just a little bored. It wasn’t bad to come with his father to the museum when people were there. Today was a Closed-Day, however, and the empty corridors rang lonesomely when he walked along them.
Besides, he knew everything in it - mostly bones and stones.
Junior said: ‘What’s that thing?’
. . .
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