The Bicentennial Man and Other Stories

"Of course. Why not? Staying in touch at all times by radio."

"Satellites."

"What?" It was the other man's turn to look puzzled.

"Radio waves bounce off an artificial satellite in space."

The other man nodded vigorously. "I predicted the use of radio waves to detect at a distance in 'Ralph 124C41 +.' Space mirrors? I've predicted that. And television, of course. And energy from the atom."

Weill was galvanized. Images flashed before his mind's eye in no suitable order. "Atom," he said, "Yes. Nuclear bombs."

"Radium," said the other man complacently.

"Plutonium," said Weill.

"What?"

"Plutonium. And nuclear fusion. Imitating the Sun. Nylon and plastics. Pesticides to kill the insects. Computers to kill the problems."

"Computers? You mean robots?"

"Pocket computers," said Weill enthusiastically. "Little things. Hold them in your hand and work out problems. Little radios. Hold them in your hand, too. Cameras take photographs and develop them right in the box. Holographs. Three. dimensional pictures."

The other man said, "Do you write scientifiction?"

Weill didn't listen. He kept trying to trap the images. They were growing clearer. "Skyscrapers," he said. "Aluminum and glass. Highways. Color television. Man on the Moon. Probes to Jupiter."

"Man on the Moon," said the other man. "Jules Verne. Do you read Jules Verne?"

Weill shook his head. It was quite clear now. The mind was healing a bit. "Stepping down onto the Moon's surface on television. Everyone watching. And pictures of Mars. No canals on Mars."

"No canals on Mars?" said the other man, astonished. "They have been seen."

"No canals," said Weill firmly. "Volcanoes. The biggest. Canyons the biggest. Transistors, lasers, tachyons. Trap the tachyons. Make them push against time. Move through time. Move through time. A-ma-"

Weill's voice was fading and his outlines trembled. It so happened that the other man looked away at this moment, staring into the blue sky, and muttering, "Tachyons? What is he saying?"

He was thinking that if a stranger he met casually in the park was so interested in scientifiction, it might be a good sign that it was time for the magazine. And then he remembered he had no name and dismissed the notion regretfully.

He looked back in time to hear Weill's last words, "Tachyonic time travel-an-amazing-stor-y-" And he was gone, snapping back to his own time.

Hugo Gernsback stared in horror at the place where the man had been. He hadn't seen him come and now he really hadn't seen him go. His mind rejected the actual disappearance. How strange a man-his clothes were oddly cut, come to think of it, and his words were wild and whirling.

The stranger himself said it-an amazing story. His last words.

And then Gemsback muttered the phrase under his breath, "Amazing story…Amazing Stories?"

A smile tugged at the comers of his mouth.

One last word...

In putting together the stories for this collection, I couldn't help noticing that between November 1974 and November 1975, I had written and sold seven science fiction stories. In addition, I had written and sold two mystery stories and one mystery novel, for a total of 132,000 words of fiction.

You understand then, why, when some people, blinded by my 120+ books of nonfiction, ask me why I have quit writing fiction, I always answer, "I haven't."

Well, I haven't!

And while I live, I won't!