The Early Asimov. Volume 1

The inevitable appeal to the supreme court came on November 9, 1974, in the case of Westly vs. Simmons, in which Joseph Westly of Stanford upheld his right to continue his investigations on atomic power on the grounds that the StonelyCarter act was unconstitutional.

How we five, isolated amid the snowdrifts of the Middle West, followed that case! We had all the Mi

It was rumoured at first that the court would declare the act unconstitutional, and monster parades were held in every large town against this eventuality. The League of the Righteous brought its powerful influence to bear-and even the supreme court submitted. It was five to four for constitutionality. Science strangled by the vote of one man.

And it was strangled beyond a doubt. The members of the bureau were Eldredge men, heart and soul, and nothing that would not have immediate industrial use was passed.

“Science has gone too far,” said Eldredge in a famous speech at about that time. “We must halt it indefinitely, and allow the world to catch up. Only through that and trust in God may we hope to achieve universal and permanent prosperity.”

But this was one of Eldridge’s last statements. He had never fully recovered from the broken legs he received that fateful day in July of ‘73, and his strenuous life since then had strained his constitution past the breaking point. On February 2, 1976, he passed away amid a burst of mourning unequalled since Lincoln’s assassination.

His death had no immediate effect on the course of events. The rules of the FSRIB grew, in fact, in stringency as the years passed. So starved and choked did science become, that once more colleges found themselves forced to reinstate philosophy and the classics as the chief studies-and at that the student body fell to the lowest point since the begi

These conditions prevailed more or less throughout the civilized world, reaching even lower depths in England, and perhaps least depressing in Germany, which was the last to fall under the “Neo-Victorian” influence.

The nadir of science came in the spring of 1978, a bare month before the completion of the New Prometheus, with the passing of the “Easter Edict”-it was issued the day before Easter. By it, all independent research or experimentation was absolutely forbidden. The FSRIB thereafter reserved the right to allow only such research as it specifically requested .

John Harman and I stood before the gleaming metal of the New Prometheus that Easter Sunday; I in the deepest gloom, and he in an almost jovial mood.

“Well, Clifford, my boy,” said he, “the last ton of fuel, a few polishing touches, and I am ready for my second attempt. This time there will be no Sheltons among us.” He hummed a hymn. That was all the radio played those days, and even we rebels sang them from sheer frequency of repetition.

I grunted sourly: “It’s no use, boss. Ten to one, you end up somewhere in space, and even if you come back, you’ll most likely be hung by the neck. We can’t win.” My head shook dolefully from side to side.

“Bah! This state of affairs can’t last, Cliff.”

“I think it will. Winstead was right that time. The pendulum swings, and since 1945 it’s been swinging against us. We’re ahead of the times-or behind them.”

“Don’t speak of that fool, Winstead. You’re making the same mistake he did. Trends are things of centuries and mille

“Then what are we doing?” I asked sarcastically.

“We’re going through a momentary reaction following a period of too-rapid advance in the Mad Decades. Just such a reaction took place in the Romantic Age-the first Victorian Period-following the too-rapid advance of the eighteenth century Age of Reason.”

“Do you really think so?” I was shaken by his evident self-assurance.

“Of course. This period has a perfect analogy in the spasmodic ‘revivals’ that used to hit the small towns in America’s Bible Belt a century or so ago. For a week, perhaps everyone would get religion, and virtue would reign triumphant. Then, one by one, they would backslide and the Devil would resume his sway.

“In fact, there are symptoms of backsliding even now. The L. R. has indulged in one squabble after another since Eldredge’s death. There have been half a dozen schisms already. The very extremities to which those in power are going are helping us, for the country is rapidly tiring of it.”

And that ended the argument-I in total defeat, as usual.

A month later, the New Prometheus was complete. It was nowhere near as glittering and as beautiful as the original, and bore many a trace of makeshift workmanship, but we were proud of it-proud and triumphant.

“I’m going to try again, men”-Harman’s voice was husky, and his little frame vibrant with happiness-”and I may not make it, but for that I don’t care.” His eyes shone in anticipation. “I’ll be shooting through the void at last, and the dream of mankind will come true. Out around the Moon and back; the first to see the other side. It’s worth the chance,”

“You won’t have fuel enough to land on the Moon, boss, which is a pity,” I said.

At that a pessimistic whisper ran through the little group surrounding him, to which he paid no attention.

“Good-bye,” he said. “I’ll be seeing you.” And with a cheerful grin he climbed into the ship.

Fifteen minutes later, the five of us sat about the living room table, frowning, lost in thought, eyes gazing out of the building at the spot where a burned section of soil marked the spot where a few minutes earlier the New Prometheus had lain.

Simonoff voiced the thought that was in the mind of each one of us: “Maybe it would be better for him not to come back. He won’t be treated very well if he does, I think.” And we all nodded in gloomy assent.

How foolish that prediction seems to me now from the hindsight of three decades.

The rest of the story is really not mine, for I did not see Harman again until a month after his eventful trip ended in a safe landing.

It was almost thirty-six hours after the take-off that a screaming projectile shot its way over Washington and buried itself in the mud just across the Potomac.

Investigators were at the scene of the landing within fifteen minutes, and in another fifteen minutes the police were there, for it was found that the projectile was a rocketship . They stared in involuntary awe at the tired, dishevelled man who staggered out in near-collapse.

There was utter silence while he shook his fist at the staring spectators and shouted: “Go ahead, hang me, fools. But I’ve reached the Moon, and you can’t hang that . Get the FSRIB. Maybe they’ll declare the flight illegal and, therefore, nonexistent.” He laughed weakly and suddenly collapsed.

Someone shouted: “Take him to a hospital. He’s sick.” In stiff unconsciousness Harman was bundled into a police car and carried away, while the police formed a guard about the rocketship.

Government officials arrived and investigated the ship, read the log, inspected the drawings and photographs he had taken of the Moon, and finally departed in silence. The crowd grew and the word spread that a man had reached the Moon.

Curiously enough, there was little resentment of the fact. Men were impressed and awed; the crowd whispered and cast inquisitive glances at the dim crescent of Luna, scarcely seen in the bright sunlight. Over all, an uneasy pall of silence, the silence of indecision, lay.

Then, at the hospital, Harman revealed his identity, and the fickle world went wild. Even Harman himself was stu

I saw Harman at the hospital shortly after that. He was propped up and still half buried with papers, telegrams and letters. He gri

 Actually, though “Trends” was the second story I sold, it was the third to be published. Ahead of it was not only “Marooned off Vesta,” but another story (to be mentioned shortly) that was written and sold after “Trends” but was rushed into print sooner. Both earlier stories were, however, published in Amazing and, somehow, I find it difficult to count them. To me, the first story I sold to Campbell and published in Astounding is my first significant published story. This is rather ungrateful of me toward Amazing , but I can’t help it.

 The July 1939 issue of Astounding is sometimes considered by later fans to mark the begi