Sci Fiction Classics
Volume 4
version 1.2
Editor's Note
Sci Fiction was an online magazine published by the Sci Fi channel between 2000 and 2005. In it was published short science fiction, both original material and classic stories. After the magazine was discontinued, much of the content remained available for a few years, until the website was removed a few years later.
Most of the stories are still available online with a little searching, mostly via mirrors of the website captured before it was shut down. The format is somewhat inconvenient for reading, however, especially if using mobile devices or e-readers. This project grew from a desire to have a high-quality, convenient e-book version of these stories.
The primary changes made to the source material is to strip out most of the website-specific formatting from the files, and to present each story as a single file as opposed to the multi-page format used in the original magazine. Formatting of the stories themselves has been generally standardized; when something was questionable I consulted hardcopies (when available) to determine what the author's intention was. The stories have also been proofread and obvious errors corrected.
The files themselves have also been standardized; which is probably of interest only to those who may want to work with the text in the future. Most of the formatting was done by hand in a generic text editor.
The stories are presented in chronological order by the date that they were published in Sci Fiction. This volume contains "classics" -- older stories that were republished online in the magazine.
The Wikipedia entry for Sci Fiction at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sci_Fiction was invaluable in compiling this collection. Stories were sometimes removed from the archive, and the list from the above Wikipedia article is incomplete, so I have also relied on captures of the Sci Fiction archive page from the Internet Archive (https://archive.org) to compile a full list.
The source of each story in this volume is listed below.
"Among the Dead" by Edward Bryant, published 21-Jul-2004. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/bryant/index.html.
"A Crowd of Shadows" by Charles L. Grant, published 4-Aug-2004. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/c_grant2/index.html.
"God's Hooks!" by Howard Waldrop, published 18-Aug-2004. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/waldrop5/index.html.
"Can These Bones Live?" by Manly Wade Wellman, published 1-Sep-2004. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/wellman2/index.html.
"Allamagoosa" by Eric Frank Russell, published 15-Sep-2004. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/russell/index.html.
"View from a Height" by Joan D. Vinge, published 6-Oct-2004. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/vinge2/index.html.
"A Kingdom by the Sea" by Gardner Dozois, published 20-Oct-2004. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/dozois2/dozois21.html.
"Bagatelle" by John Varley, published 3-Nov-2004. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/varley/index.html.
"Free Dirt" by Charles Beaumont, published 17-Nov-2004. Retrieved 29-Jan-2014 from https://web.archive.org/web/20041217050147/http://www.scifi.com/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/beaumont2/index.html.
"Two Weeks in August" by Frank M. Robinson, published 1-Dec-2004. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/robinson/index.html.
"Transfer" by Barry N. Malzberg, published 15-Dec-2004. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/malzberg2/index.html.
"Gather Blue Roses" by Pamela Sargent, published 5-Jan-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/sargent/index.html.
"Beam Us Home" by James Tiptree, Jr., published 19-Jan-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/tiptree3/index.html.
"Familiar Pattern" by A. Bertram Chandler, published 2-Feb-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/chandler/index.html.
"The Yellow Pill" by Rog Phillips, published 16-Feb-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/phillips/index.html.
"They Don't Make Life Like They Used To" by Alfred Bester, published 2-Mar-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/bester/index.html.
"Space-time for Springers" by Fritz Leiber, published 16-Mar-2005. Retrieved 29-Jan-2014 from https://web.archive.org/web/20050326141930/http://www.scifi.com/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/leiber/index.html.
"The Sea Was Wet as Wet Can Be" by Gahan Wilson, published 6-Apr-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/wilson/index.html.
"Brown Robert" by Terry Carr, published 20-Apr-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/carr4/index.html.
"Black Country" by Charles Beaumont, published 5-May-2005. Retrieved 29-Jan-2014 from https://web.archive.org/web/20051214045649/http://www.scifi.com/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/beaumont3/index.html.
"The White King's Dream" by Elizabeth A. Lynn, published 18-May-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/lynn/index.html.
"Transformer" by Chad Oliver, published 1-Jun-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/oliver/index.html.
"Mouse" by Fredric Brown, published 15-Jun-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/brown4/index.html.
"Come On, Wagon" by Zenna Henderson, published 6-Jul-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/henderson2/index.html.
"The Tenants" by William Tenn, published 20-Jul-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/tenn3/index.html.
"A Life in the Day of…" by Frank M. Robinson, published 3-Aug-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/robinson2/index.html.
"To Be Continued…" by Robert Silverberg, published 17-Aug-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/silverberg4/index.html.
"Under the Hollywood Sign" by Tom Reamy, published 14-Sep-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/reamy4/index.html.
"The Water Sculptor" by George Zebrowski, published 28-Sep-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/zebrowski/index.html.
"Painwise" by James Tiptree, Jr., published 12-Oct-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/tiptree4/index.html.
"All the Sounds of Fear" by Harlan Ellison®, published 26-Oct-2005. Retrieved 29-Jan-2014 from https://web.archive.org/web/20060315071051/http://www.scifi.com/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/ellison2/index.html.
"The Beautiful People" by Robert Bloch, published 9-Nov-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/bloch2/index.html.
"The Man Who Never Forgot" by Robert Silverberg, published 23-Nov-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/silverberg5/index.html.
"Star Light, Star
Bright" by Alfred Bester, published 7-Dec-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/bester2/index.html.
"The Great Wall of Mexico" by John Sladek, published 21-Dec-2005. Retrieved 28-Jan-2014 from http://lexal.net/scifi/scifiction/classics/classics_archive/sladek/index.html.
Version history:
version 1.0 - 29-Jan-2014. Initial compilation.
version 1.1 - 29-Jan-2014. Added "Free Dirt," "Space-time for Springers," "Black Country," and "All the Sounds of Fear."
version 1.2 - 15-Mar-2014. Text of all stories proofread and errors corrected. Errors in story ordering fixed.
I may be contacted for feedback or questions at [email protected].
Among the Dead
Edward Bryant
Mummified pine shiver in the wind. Dry branches whir a litany for the dead. The moon, silver skull with a smile, sheds no tears for a wasted earth. Below, the metaphor is bone.
Child's blocks, heavy stone joined by edges, break the mountainscape. Three tourists cling together inside a mausoleum. And around them, hundreds of silent companions wait.
On the bank of the river, beside the road no longer traveled, is a sign. Raised bronze letters: THEY SHALL LIVE AGAIN.
Shall they?
Foster dreamed:
Spinal fragments of a dead lizard, fire-blackened.
The Autumn Leaf Tour and the train. The tracks lay far down the mountain and were crisscrossed by tumbled cars. Bones inside the charred engine—deadman switch that didn't work—and a graded curve taken too fast. Skeletons everywhere—the trail of bones leading up the mountain. Bones that collapsed and jumbled like pickup sticks and …
Images—how it must have been—the germ aerosols bursting high above Denver, the enormous hiss like a deodorant or insect spray, the vapor white-seeping down and becoming invisible, then killing and killing and nothing but bones—the aspen, white in the daylight, jointed, articulated, dying faster than the leaves—the Autumn Leaf Tour—and the trail up the mountain.
The girl—just as pale, never in the sun, never naked. And now, because he wanted her to, she opened her legs that he might taste, and he tasted tomato paste and liver and scallions … Sampled and ate.
"This morning we finished the last of Gunderson. Gunderson, Vernon L., according to the records. Age forty-seven, race Caucasian, sex male, death from emphysema May 21, 1972. There was a Gundersen, Lillian G., but we skipped her; just left her there in the vaults. She was too damned skinny, some sort of wasting cancer. Maybe when the day comes that we polish off the last toe-joint of Zytlinsky, George M., we will be forced by necessity to thaw out dead, emaciated Gundersen, Lillian G.
"Of course by then we'll probably all be dead anyway. Our gums are bleeding and the goddamn diarrhea's getting worse. Mardin says that deficiency diseases will get the three of us long before there's any chance of starvation. But I guess the way things are now is a form of starving to death. Last night Connie dreamed about a Caesar salad, cherry tomatoes, Russian dressing, the whole works. She had to tell me about it today, in detail. I could kill her for that. I'll dream tonight about green vegetables, and I'll agonize."
Foster snapped the journal shut. God, he thought, it would make a tremendous beginning for a horror story.
"Hi," said Connie, from the doorway. "I brought you a tray. Mardin fixed it—it still isn't my turn until tomorrow. I thought maybe you didn't want to eat with Mardin tonight." Her last words almost phrased a question.
"No," said Foster. "I don't want to eat with crazy Mardin, that goddamn ghoul."
Connie's skin was delicately, almost abnormally, pale. Her face quickly betrayed the flush.
"Jesus," said Foster. "Here we are at this place and time and you can still blush at profanity. God, girl, your sensitivities are incredible."
"Sorry," she said. "I'm me." She set the tray on the desk in front of Foster, her silver charm bracelet jingling.
"No kidding." Foster slid the dull metal tray closer. With a tentative gesture he touched the hemisphere covering his supper. "So what is it tonight? Spaghetti and seasoned Italian sauce? Roast capon garnished with parsley? Idaho big-reds au gratin? How about one of Mardin's superb soufflés?" He idly traced his initials in the condensed steam that dappled the metal.
"Please," she said. "Don't. Mardin's bad enough." He saw that her hands were curled into tight fists. Foster marveled with mild pleasure that he could almost feel the pain of her nails deeply buried somewhere inside those knotted fingers.
"Sorry." But it was no real apology. Foster lifted the dome from his supper. A thin vapor rose from the platter of meat. "Smells good," Foster said pleasantly. "Pot roast tonight?"
"Rib steak," said Connie in a thin voice. She turned and started for the door.
"Don't go."
Connie hesitated, then continued to walk.
"Please." Foster deliberately inserted a mild note of pleading in his voice. The girl stopped, turned, faced him, and Foster saw she was close to crying.
"All right," she said. "But only because I don't want to be alone, and I can stand you better than Mardin." She sat down on the edge of Foster's bed. Connie was so light she barely made an impression on the bedspread.
"I think you need to eat more," said Foster with calculated malice. He picked up a linen napkin from the tray and flipped it open. Something white and ragged fluttered out and landed between his feet. Foster picked the object up and examined it—a piece of paper, torn from a sheet in the vault records. "Hamilton, Willis T.," it read. Below the printing was a line in Mardin's nearly illegible script. "With the compliments of the chef."
"Wise-ass," said Foster. He flipped the scrap to Connie, who read it and looked sick.
"Don't puke," said Foster. "Or if you do, go out in the hall."
"I won't be sick. I can't. I'd just have to get another helping of supper."
Foster ate quickly and silently while Connie stared at his face.
"I'm sorry I kept going on about that Caesar salad," she finally said.
The man smiled. "You know, you're a sweet kid."
Connie didn't hear him; her mind had skipped to something else, something more obsessive. "Foster? Someday we'll be rescued, won't we? Won't someone look for us?"
Foster shrugged. "Why should they? Other people must have had natural immunities, others must have survived. But I'm sure they're too busy keeping alive to worry about rescuing us."
"Oh," she said blankly.
All us colorless people at the end of the world, he reflected. What a goddamned anticlimax.
Sunrise poured over the clouded eastern mountains like a spill of wet concrete. Both Mardin and Foster went up to the observation level to watch the morning, while Connie busied herself in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.
"You know," said Mardin, resting his forearms on the chill metal rail, "I don't think I'll ever get used to the world without green."
Foster was vaguely surprised. Mardin hadn't spoken to him in six days. Sometimes he suspected Mardin didn't exist at all. "Yeah," he said, looking out over the barren Rockies. "It isn't so much the plants I miss. It's the things that move—the birds and animals and things." He considered. "I never figured I'd be lonely for a goddamn robin."
Mardin snickered. "The only reason you want a robin is to roast him on a spit."
"You're a lousy comedian," said Foster.
"No," said Mardin. "No, I'm not. I'm a bald, skinny ex-file clerk who's probably got pellagra and beri-beri and God only knows what else; and I'm standing out here under a starving sky talking about what I miss to a man who isn't my friend while a girl who also isn't my friend is down below in the kitchen frying up a fellow man I never knew, as something I'll try to imagine is Canadian bacon." Mardin's voice stopped like a mechanical toy running down. His lips quivered slightly, and Foster hoped the man wouldn't cry. Mardin had been the most unstable member of the trio from the start. Oddly, it had been he rather than Connie who had been the last to ea
t the meals culled from the vaults. Mardin had held back until his ribs etched tight against stretched skin while Foster and eventually the girl assuaged their hunger. Then, after days of self-denial, he had broken and gorged himself on chops and steaks and filets. But the breaking had snapped something besides Mardin's hunger, Foster thought.
Mardin gestured toward the dark river. "What started it?" he said loudly, and his voice echoed toward bare hills where nothing moved except the wind.
"Not 'what,'" said Foster. "Who." He pointed downward. "Them."
Mardin looked at him curiously.
"The dead," said Foster. "The people frozen in the vaults. The ones who didn't plan for the future—the jerks who didn't believe in birth control or who piped their sewers into the oceans. So what else could they expect, letting people breed up toward infinity in a wasted world? The birth rate went sky-high and biological pressure made the death rate compensate drastically."
"Well, we overcompensated," said Mardin.
"You have a gift for understatement." Foster chuckled. "The silent spring, sprung. Hell—once we were worried about H-bombs and nerve gas. Then they let the bio-bombs loose …"
"Okay, breakfast's ready." Connie's voice echoed up the concrete shaft to the observation level.
The chill of the vault numbed Foster's fingers as he wrestled the foil-wrapped bundle from its cradle. "Hytrek, Donald M., Jr.," the file read. There was something special about this file, Foster reflected. The file matter-of-factly reported a death on September 3, 1973—an unusual cardiac arrest, but remarkable only because Hytrek had been seven years old. Tough luck, Mr. and Mrs. Hytrek, Foster thought as he carried the shapeless package up the steps of the storage chamber. What pathetic hope drove you to have your dead son quick-frozen after death and placed here in the cryogenic vault? You probably wondered if you would still be alive when the surgical techniques would be developed that could repair Donald Jr.'s damaged heart. Well, you're not. You're dead, your son's dead too, and you'll all stay that way. Sorry. But we'll live a little longer—Connie, Mardin, and me.
Sci Fiction Classics Volume 4 Page 1