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235 lines
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+-+--+-+--+-+ VOLUME TWO NUMBER TWO
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| | ==========================================
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+___________+ FFFFF SSS FFFFF N N EEEEE TTTTT
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| ++ | F S F NN N E T
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| ++ | FFF SSS FFF N N N EEE T
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| | F S F N NN E T
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|_________| F SSS F N N EEEEE T
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/___________\ ==========================================
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| | BITNET Fantasy-Science Fiction Fanzine
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___|___________|___ X-Edited by 'Orny' Liscomb <NMCS025@MAINE>
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<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
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CONTENTS
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X-Editorial Orny
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Man's Best Friends Alex Williams
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All's Well that Ends. Well... Cliff Thayer
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Review: THE COLOUR OF MAGIC Orny
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Alas, Babble On Jim Owens
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Selection Orny
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<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
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X-Editorial
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Well, greetings, all! Another issue of FSFnet has come, and I'm sure
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you'll find this one rather refreshing. Due to circumstances beyond our
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control, there is neither a featured author or a Narret Chronicles in this
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issue, although both will continue in issue 2-3, with Narret 5 and a column on
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Christopher Stasheff, author of 'The Warlock in Spite of Himself', 'The
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Warlock Unlocked', 'King Kobald Revived', and 'Escape Velocity'.
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But this issue contains some excellent works of fiction, including a
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wonderful poem by Jim Owens (a poem I sympathize with), and my own newest
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imaginings in 'Selection'. If anyone who receives this is still having
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problems with the sending format, please let me know. I'd also like to
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welcome those few people who have been added to the mailing list since May,
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and hope that they will continue to spread the word to interested parties.
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Well, enough of the propaganda... on with the show!
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Orny <NMCS025 @ MAINE>
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<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
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Man's Best Friends
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"You know John, the Telrani are man's best friends. And there is nothing
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you can say that will change my view of them."
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John Stevenson picked up his beer and resumed drinking it. He stared
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blankly at the ring of moisture it left on the bar.
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"I know that they have given us some good things...", he started.
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"Some good things?!? What about the De-armatron? That's more than good,
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John. That's the end of war. Flick the mother on and Zap! No weapons, even
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nukes, work! And what about Super-Wheat? The solution for world hunger. Grows
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anywhere. And the cures for all the diseases man has ever known. I just don't
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understand you, John."
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"I know what they've done, Dan. I just have a bad feeling about them. It's
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just too good. One day a hundred flying saucers come out of the sky, some
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aliens get out that look like Bigfoot, they say they are from Rigel and are
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here to help us, and Wham! all the world's problems are solved. I just have a
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funny feeling about it."
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Dan took a pull at his drink, set it down and continued.
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"And now they are offering trips to their home planet. What a deal!" So
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what if when we get back everyone who knows will be dead or at least a hundred
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years old, we're not married, so what do we care?"
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"Yea, but..."
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"No buts about it. I'm going. In fact I'm going in just a month. And get
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this, so are you!"
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John, who was drinking, suddenly sputtered and splashed beer all over the
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bar.
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"What?!?",he yelled,"How come you didn't ask me? How can we pay for it? I
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don't want to leave Earth forever!"
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"It isn't forever, only for 8 months, our time. It's free, and I didn't ask
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you because I know you'd say no. Anyway we're going, so it's settled."
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"No it isn't, but I have to go home, so we'll talk about it tomorrow."
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"See ya, John."
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"Later."
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"Hi Dan! Whatcha lookin so pale for? Are you sick? Hey bartender, get this
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man a drink!"
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"Dan, last night I decided that I might as well go to Rigel with you. Hey,
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I mean my 'funny feeling' is unfounded, and there's no reason why we
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shouldn't. Right, Dan?"
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Dan sat down, and stared straight ahead.
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"John, you know how I taught myself the Telranian language and alphabet,
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even though it's forbidden. Well I finally got a chance to use it. I found a
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Telrani handbook yesterday for sale at a bookstore, and I bought it."
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"But possesion of any Telrani text is illegal!"
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"I know that, but I bought it anyway, just to see if I could read it. And
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I could."
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"Well, what was the book about?"
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"The title was 'How to Serve Man', which they have been doing, right? The
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De-armatron, Super-wheat, free interstellar trips, stuff like that."
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"Yea, so what's wrong?"
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"Well, I read the first chapter, and I thought I must have read it wrong,
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so I read it again, and I found out I didn't."
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"And?"
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"It isn't a handbook on how to help us, Dear God John, it was a cook-
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book!!"
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Alex Williams
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<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
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All's Well That Ends. Well,...
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The hall was dark, but the thief carried a torch, and could see rather
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well. He needed to see, but he also knew where to look, and so his job was
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made a little easier.
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He moved his hand across the wall. It slid quietly, and then fell into a
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recess. He edged his hand up and down what appeared to be a slot cut from the
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floor to the ceiling. Near the bottom he found it; a break in the slot, where
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the wall seemed uncut. He held the torch low. On the wall beside the break
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there was what seemed to be a rectangular metal inlay. The thief knew better.
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He set the torch into a wall bracket, and licked the palm of his hand well. He
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then placed his hand, palm first, against the metal. He then pulled his hand
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away suddenly. The inlay moved out just enough for him to get a grip on it.
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He slid it out, revealing it to be a square steel peg. He took it and ran it
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inside the top of the lower half of the slot. It caught, and he deftly slid it
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up and out of sight. It just as easily slid out of the hole when he pulled his
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hand away, however. He set it down, and took off his pack. Taking the tent out
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of it, he once more inserted the peg. He then tossed the tent onto the floor a
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short distance ahead. The floor sank perceptibly. The break in the slot also
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moved, trying to slide into the wall. The peg caught it, and it stopped.
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The thief crossed the drop-away floor, leaving behind his tent to hold the
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peg in place, for his escape. He had already crossed three such floors, evaded
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two patrols, crossed two revines, traversed endless dark halls, and even
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outwitted a maze. If his source was correct, he was now home free.
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His target was a small ceremonial table. It was gold, with gems set in each
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corner. Legend had it that it had never been touched since it had been set in
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its place eons ago. No one had even approached it, only gazed on it from a
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distance. Now he wanted to take it.
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He walked down the hall. His source had been a priest once, and had studied
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this temple. He knew how the traps worked, and what the walls and floors would
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look like when a trap was built in. The thief now recognized such a pattern in
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the walls. A low ceiling, with square pillar lining the walls. That meant that
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the roof would drop on him if he put weight on the center of the floor without
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putting weight first on sides near the walls. He accordingly edged along the
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wall, and was soon past.
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That was the last trap. He turned the corner, and there was the altar room.
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Rich furnishings lined the wall, but he had eyes only for the gold table on
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the far wall.
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He walked fearlessly forward. Nothing impeded him as he went to claim his
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prize. He lifted it off its stand, although not without some effort, as it was
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very heavy. He turned, and staggered down the steps. He reached the floor,
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took two steps, and, without warning, the floor collapsed under the
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unaccustomed weight. The thief fell down to the next floor, which happened to
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be the dining hall for all the novices. He escaped with his life, but, alas,
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without his prize, as the one thing he had not planned on was running with
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such a great weight.
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Cliff Thayer
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<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
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Review: THE COLOUR OF MAGIC
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Terry Pratchett is a British author of several SF short stories and a novel
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entitled 'Strata', available in a Signet edition. 'The Colour of Magic',
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printed in England in 1983, has recently been released in an american
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paperback edition by Signet, and has been a main selection of the Science
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Fiction Book Club.
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The book recounts the adventures shared by "Twoflower, a naive insurance
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salesman turned tourist" and his reluctant native guide, an inept wizard named
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Rincewind. The first of four short stories in the book tell of Twoflower's
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arrival in the corrupt city of Ankh-Morpork. After meeting Rincewind,
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Twoflower's adventures in the city, reminiscent of Aspirin's Sanctuary,
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culminate in the destruction of the city. The second book describes their
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awakening of an ancient horror in an abandoned temple. The third is an
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account of how Twoflower finally gets his wish to see a dragon, and the final
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story sends the two reluctant adventurers over the edge of the Discworld into
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space.
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Pratchett's style is very readable, and spotted with just the right touch
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of humor. At times 'The Colour of Magic' reminds one of Anthony's Xanth or
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Adams' Hitchhiker series, yet it always retains a new and unique frame of
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fantasy. An excellent book for those who are intrigued by the unusual, and
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the interaction of modern ideas and medieval technology. This book is
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thoroughly enjoyable light fantasy reading, and quite amusing as well.
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Orny <NMCS025 @ MAINE>
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<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
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Alas, Babble On.
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Here I sit, with page all plain,
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With nary an image in my brain.
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Not spaceship fast or slaughter gory,
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to be embellished into a story.
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So contrary to my charitable wish,
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I'll have no story in your next ish.
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And why is my mind all turned to rock?
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I'll tell you. I've got writer's block.
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Jim Owens <J1O @ PSUVM>
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<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
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Selection
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The air was stale, and he felt very little. His plastic environment suit
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made a crumpling noise as he turned to face her. "Lisa?"
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"Yes, Lloyd?"
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"What happened to us? I mean, we can't touch any more..." He left the
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sentence hanging, contemplating. Lisa knew what he wanted to say, and she
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shamefully looked at the floor a moment before answering.
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"I'm sorry, Lloyd. I know. But if we were to remove these suits, you know
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what would happen..."
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"Yes, the germs in the air would kill us, since our bodies have no natural
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defenses. So we have to live all our lives in these shells, in our own self-
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contained environment, but why? When did it all start?"
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Lisa was a mother, explaining a difficult and harsh reality to a child.
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"Well, it all started a long, long time ago, when mankind was first developing
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intelligence, and made houses to keep him safe and warm, so that he didn't
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have to face the elements. But it really got worse in the last hundred years,
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when we concentrated on welfare programs, health care, and started taking care
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of the physically or mentally deficient. We cheated natural selection.
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Because the weaker members of our society were protected, they survived, and
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because they survived, they bred. The weaker genes were not weeded out due to
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natural selection, and gradually the entire human species became weaker, until
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we became wholly dependant on our man-made artifices to cheat natural
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selection."
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Lloyd also looked thoughtfully downward. "And then there was the Great
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Plague? Is that why we have to wear these suits?"
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Lisa's eyes burned with tears. "Yes, love. The Great Plague came upon us
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not long ago. A sudden outbreak of disease became a worldwide horror, because
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our scientists couldn't find a cure for it fast enough. The disease spread
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quickly, and millions upon millions died, because they had no natural defenses
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left, and we couldn't even find the cause of the disease. Now we must remain
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isolated from the natural environment, or else we will die like they did."
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Lloyd mustered the courage to look into Lisa's deep brown eyes. "But it's
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unbearable! Is this what mankind has come to?
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What can we do about it?"
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Lisa broke the contact by averting her eyes. "Nothing, Lloyd, except
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live."
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Lloyd looked about him, through the clear plastic suit, at the antiseptic
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white walls, and the sterile linoleum floor. "If you can call this life."
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Orny <NMCS025 @ MAINE>
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<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>X<>
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