Dye, Charles - Collected Short Fiction / Дай, Чарльз - Cобрание сочинений [2020, epub, ENG]

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Charles Dye - Собрание сочинений

Год выпуска: 2020
Автор: Dye, Charles / Дай, Чарльз
Издательство: Jerry eBooks
Формат: epub
Качество: OCR
Язык: английский

Чарльз Дай (Charles Dudley Dye, 12 октября 1925 г. - 1960 г.) - американский писатель-фантаст.
Первая публикация - рассказ "The Last Orbit" появился в февральском (1950 г.) выпуске "Amazing Stories". Единственный роман "Prisoner in the Skull" был опубликован в 1952 г. Его писательская карьера продолжалась всего пол-десятилетия.
The Last Orbit
Time Killer / Убийца во времени
Syndrome Johnny
The Man Who Staked the Stars
Because of the Stars
Alien Restoration
Translator’s Error
The Seventh Wind
Settle to One
Time Goes to Now
The Aeropause
The Last Man in the Moon
Curtain in the Sky
Prisoner in the Skull (Part One of Three Parts)
Prisoner in the Skull (Part Two of Three Parts)
Prisoner in the Skull (Conclusion)
Time Killer

The machine showed Moxel how he would die, but Moxel decided that fore-warned could be fore-armed!

“There’s an old saw. ‘If I knew where I was going to die, I’d stay away from the place!’ But an accurate death-prediction would take this fact into account, a matter which the victim if likely to overlook.”

MOXEL’S eyes glittered in the sullen light of the cavern. He stood expectantly in front of the cloudy, opalescent globe suspended by invisible energy poles from the crab-shaped machine below it.
For awhile, there was silence. Then the machine continued, its thoughts echoing and thundering in Moxel’s brain. “I repeat, I cannot predict the outcome of the change. The sole purpose of my creation was to produce the future in miniature, for the observer to toy with as he wishes. Put on the thinking cap and concentrate on what portion of your future you wish to observe. The timebinder, becoming transparent, will reveal that portion. I am constructed so that I can say no more.”
As the machine finished, a shiny metal cap, snake-like, on the end of an oily cable shot up to Moxel’s side. He placed it cautiously on his head, and almost immediately, his brain felt like a pin cushion filled with hundreds of tiny needles. A cloud of pain fell across his consciousness. Peaching up to tear the cap off, his eye caught the opaque globe which was now pulsing with a reddish glow; slowly dissolving into transparency the entire cloudy sphere. The prickling stopped, leaving his brain as clear and transparent as the time binder.
. . .
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