Everest by Isaac Asimov - Perhaps you’ve read how Everest has now been climbed? But have you heard of Planetary Survey? Here’s the real truth about it. (Everest has been climbed twice)
In 1952 they were about ready to give up trying to climb Mt. Everest. It was the photographs that kept them going.
As photographs go, they weren’t much; fuzzy, streaked and with just dark blobs against the white to be interested in. But those dark blobs were living creatures. The men swore to it.
I said, “What the hell, they’ve been talking about creatures skidding along the Everest glaciers for forty years. It’s about time we did something about it.”
Jimmy Robbons (pardon me, James Abram Robbons) was the one who pushed me into that position. He was always nuts on mountain climbing, you see. He was the one who knew all about how the Tibetans wouldn’t go near Everest because it was the mountain of the gods, he could quote me every mysterious manlike footprint ever reported in the ice 25,000 feet up, he knew by heart every tall story about the spindly white creatures, speeding along the crags just over the last heart-breaking camp which the climbers had managed to establish.
It’s good to have one enthusiastic creature of the sort at Planetary Survey headquarters.
Aliens and Nothing But Aliens 3 - Sixteen Lost Sci-Fi Short Stories from the 1940s, 50s and 60s
- Strange Eden by Philip K. Dick
- From Outer Space by Robert Zacks
- Planet of the Angry Giants by Robert Silverberg
- The Guest Rites by Robert Silverberg
- The Star Mouse by Fredric Brown
- And Then—The Silence by Ray Bradbury
- Duel on Syrtis by Poul Anderson
- Earthmen Bearing Gifts by Fredric Brown
- Welcome Martians by Evan Hunter
- Guest Expert by Allen K. Lang
- The Eater of Souls by Henry Kuttner
- Message From Mars by Clifford D. Simak
- The Pause by Isaac Asimov
- The Call From Beyond by Clifford D. Simak
- The World That Couldn't Be by Clifford D. Simak
- The Sky Was Full of Ships by Theodore Sturgeon
Living Space by Isaac Asimov - Having mastered probability lanes, man found an indefinite number of Earths—and everyone could have a planet all to himself, if he wanted. But there was one joker in the deal...
Clarence Rimbro had no objections to living in the only house on an uninhabited planet, any more than had any other of Earth’s even trillion of inhabitants.
If someone had questioned him concerning possible objections, he would undoubtedly have stared blankly at the questioner. His house was much larger than any house could possibly be on Earthproper, and much more modern. It had its independent air-supply and water-supply; ample food in its freezing compartments. It was isolated from the lifeless planet on which it was located by a force-field, but the rooms were built about a five-acre farm (under glass, of course) which, in the planet’s beneficient sunlight, grew flowers for pleasure and vegetables for health. It even supported a few chickens. It gave Mrs. Rimbro something to do with herself afternoons, and a place for the two little Rimbros to play when they were tired of indoors.
Furthermore, if one wanted to be on Earth-proper; if one insisted on it; if one had to have people around, and air one could breathe in the open, or water to swim in — one had only to go out of the front door of the house.
So where was the difficulty?
The Pause by Isaac Asimov
The white powder was confined within a thin-walled, transparent capsule. The capsule in turn was heat-sealed into a double strip of parafilm. Along that strip of parafilm were other capsules at six-inch intervals.
The strip moved. Each capsule in the course of events rested for one minute on a metal jaw immediately beneath a mica window. On another portion of the face of the radiation counter a number clicked out upon an unrolling cylinder of paper. The capsule moved on; the next took its place.
The number printed at 1 P.M. was 308. A minute later 256 appeared. A minute later, 391. A minute later, 477. A minute later, 202. A minute later, 251. A minute later, 000. A minute later, 000. A minute later, 000. A minute later, 000.
Shortly after 2:00 P.M. Mr. Alexander Johannison passed by the counter and the corner of one eye stubbed itself over the row of figures. Two steps past the counter he stopped and returned.
He ran the paper cylinder backward, then restored its position and said, 'Nuts!'
He said it with vehemence. He was tall and thin, with bigknuckled hands, sandy hair and light eyebrows. He looked tired and, at the moment, perplexed.
Gene Damelli wandered his way with the same easy carelessness he brought to all his actions. He was dark, hairy, and on the short side. His nose had once been broken and it made him look curiously unlike the popular conception of the nuclear physicist.
Space Travelers and Nothing But Space Travelers 4 - Seventeen Lost Sci-Fi Short Stories from the 1930s, 40s, 50s and 60s
- The Star Mouse by Fredric Brown
- And Then—The Silence by Ray Bradbury
- The Queen of Space by Joseph Slotkin
- Unwelcomed Visitor by William Morrison
- Duel on Syrtis by Poul Anderson
- Task of Kayin by William Morrison
- Asteroid of the Damned by Frederik Pohl
- $1,000 a Plate by Jack McKenty
- Rabbits Have Long Ears by Lawrence F. Willard
- Planet of the Angry Giants by Robert Silverberg
- Wanderlust by Alan E. Nourse
- Zurk by Richard O. Lewis
- Christmas on Ganymede by Isaac Asimov
- Dust Unto Dust by Lyman D. Hinckley
- Time Pussy by Isaac Asimov
- Spacemen Die At Home by Edward W. Ludwig
- The Repairman by Harry Harrison
Let's Get Together by Isaac Asimov
A kind of peace had endured for a century and people had forgotten what anything else was like. They would scarcely have known how to react had they discovered that a kind of war had finally come.
Certainly, Elias Lynn, Chief of the Bureau of Robotics, wasn't sure how he ought to react whenhefinally found out. The Bureau of Robotics was headquartered in Cheyenne, in line with the century-old trend toward decentralization, and Lynn stared dubiously at the young Security officer from Washington who had brought the news.
Elias Lynn was a large man, almost charmingly homely, with pale blue eyes that bulged a bit. Men weren't usually comfortable under the stare of those eyes, but the Security officer remained calm.
Lynn decided that his first reaction ought to be incredulity. Hell, it was incredulity! He just didn't believe it!
He eased himself back in his chair and said, 'How certain is the information?'
The Security officer, who had introduced himself as Ralph G. Breckenridge and had presented credentials to match, had the softness of youth about him; full lips, plump cheeks that flushed easily, and guileless eyes. His clothing was out of line with Cheyenne but it suited a universally air-conditioned Washington, where Security, despite everything, was still centered.
Breckenridge flushed and said, 'There's no doubt about it.'
Day of the Hunters by Isaac Asimov - The little old man had a new slant on the mystery of what happened to the great dinosaurs...
It began the same night it ended. It wasn't much. It just bothered me; it still bothers me.
You see, Joe Bloch, Ray Manning and I were squatting around our favorite table in the corner bar with an evening on our hands and a mess of chatter to throw it away with. That's just the beginning.
Joe Bloch started it by talking about the atomic bomb, and what he thought ought to be done with it, and how who would have though it five years ago. And I said lots of guys thought about it five years ago and wrote stories about it and it was going to be tough on them trying to keep ahead of the newspapers now. Which led to a general palaver on how lots of screwy things might come true and a lot of for-instances were thrown about.
Christmas on Ganymede by Isaac Asimov - Consider the problems of miners who work on Ganymede, moon of Jupiter, 390,000,000 miles from earth: isolated on a world so different from our own, surrounded by beings who know nothing of our traditions, how might these men teach their alien work-mates how we celebrate Christmas?
Olaf Johnson hummed nasally to himself and his china-blue eyes were dreamy as he surveyed the stately fir tree in the corner of the library. Though the library was the largest single room in the Dome, Olaf felt it none too spacious for the occasion. Enthusiastically he dipped into the huge crate at his side and took out the first roll of red-and-green crepe paper.
What sudden burst of sentiment had inspired the Ganymedan Products Corporation, Inc. to ship a complete collection of Christmas decorations to the Dome, he did not pause to inquire. Olaf’s was a placid disposition, and in his self-imposed job as chief Christmas decorator, he was content with his lot.
He frowned suddenly and muttered a curse. The General Assembly signal light was flashing on and off hysterically. With a hurt air Olaf laid down the tack-hammer he had just lifted, then the roll of crêpe paper, picked some tinsel out of his hair and left for officers quarters.
Commander Scott Pelham was in his deep armchair at the head of the table when Olaf entered. His stubby fingers were drumming unrhythmically upon the glass-topped table. Olaf met the commander’s hotly furious eyes without fear, for nothing had gone wrong in his department in twenty Ganymedan revolutions.
The room filled rapidly with men, and Pelham’s eyes hardened as he counted noses in one sweeping glance.
'We’re all here. Men, we face a crisis!'
There was a vague stir. Olaf’s eyes sought the ceiling and he relaxed. Crises hit the Dome once a revolution, on the average.
