Thrilling Wonder Stories, Fall 1946: H Kuttner & C L Moore, R Rocklynne, E Hamilton and M Leinster

A few days ago I was looking at the contents page of Bypass to Otherness, the 1961 Henry Kuttner (and C. L. Moore) collection.  Of its contents, it seems I have read seven stories: "Cold War," "Call Him Demon," "The Dark Angel," "The Piper's Son," "Absalom," "Nothing But Gingerbread Left," and "Housing Problem."  That leaves only one story to go, "The Little Things."  Let's read "The Little Things" today, in its inaugural appearance in the Fall 1946 Thrilling Wonder Stories, and three other stories in that issue of Sam Merwin's magazine.  We've already read the cover story of this ish of TWS, Kuttner and Moore's "Call Him Demon."   Looking back at my 2014 (the very dawn of time!) blog post on "Call Him Demon," my plot summary makes the story sound absolutely awesome, and of course then there are the illustrations of the story by Earle Bergey on the cover of the magazine and by Virgil Finlay inside that make the story appear to be a bondage sex extravaganza.  But in my blog post I go on to attack the story's characters, style, and length and to give it a negative vote.  I'm a tough grader!  

"The Little Things" by Henry Kuttner and C. L. Moore

"The Little Things" is credited to Kuttner alone in the magazine, and I am not sure on what basis isfdb also credits Moore.  The story has not been reprinted much, just in the aforementioned Bypass to Otherness and in a 2010 Haffner Press collection of Kuttner and Moore stories, Detour to Otherness.

This is an idea story, weak in plot and character--the protagonist doesn't know what is going on and doesn't have any decisions to make or obstacles to overcome.  He isn't likable and is hard to sympathize with.  The story is also about a revolution, but the motives and policies of the revolutionaries are pretty vague and elicit no intellectual or emotional response in the reader.  I suppose the drama of the story is meant to be generated by how the reader is led to believe the protagonist is a hero who is going to join the resistance and overthrow the government only to be told by the authors that the protagonist is no hero and will not be doing any such thing; Kuttner and Moore "subvert our expectations," something the critics always like to see, but maybe us readers aren't always crazy about.

Our guy was a gossip columnist of the second or third rank during World War II, a guy whose column was not nationally influential but was widely read in a medium-sized town.  As the war was ending he was seized and put in a prison by the people who were secretly taking over during the period of post-war chaos.  You see, the aftermath of the war was going to provide the opportunity for radical changes to occur, and, to make sure civilization was going to transition smoothly to its new form, people who had some level of ambition and influence, like our gossip columnist, but who were not smart enough to recognize the ideal form of society the secret masters were guiding us to and so might cause disruptions, were imprisoned and impersonated by doppelgangers.   These doppelgangers would use the positions of influence formerly occupied by the prisoners to smooth the transition, urging the public to support the correct policies, policies which the prisoners, if free, likely would oppose.  The prisoners, meanwhile, would live in relative luxury, with access to good health care and lots of books and music and so forth, even pets, but no contact whatsoever with the outside world--all those books and all that music is material published before they were imprisoned.  One reason the prisoners are well-treated is that, at least for a while, the doppelgangers share the prisoner's soul or life force and will die if the prisoner dies; eventually the duplicate develops its own soul.

The gossip columnist has lost track of how long he has been in his gilded cage with his pet cat.  He sees an opportunity to escape, and gets out of the prison.  (Kuttner and Moore refer to the prison as Chateau D'If and make some allusions to Dumas as well as to Tennyson's Enoch Arden.)  The outside world does not seem to have changed radically--just "little things" seem to have changed, like the names of the months and days of the week, and the fact that vehicles are now self-driving and people no longer smoke tobacco.

The gossip columnist tries to make contact with people he knew when he was a free man, and finds that the secret masters of the world have given him plastic surgery so he looks totally different (I guess there was no mirror or other reflective surface in his comfortable cell.)  It will be impossible for him to renew his old friendships--everybody who knew him before he was seized is sure that the doppelganger is the real him.  The gossip columnist meets a woman who has not been able to change with the times, but rather than oppose the quiet, creeping revolution, she just sits around and gets drunk.  It becomes clear the gossip columnist will be equally unable to put up any resistance to the changes.  While his doppelganger is living a fulfilling life and career promoting the policies of the secret masters, the original gossip columnist, after a brief period of fruitless resistance, will live a pointless existence of drunkenness punctuated by bouts of sterile nostalgia--Kuttner and Moore offer us the metaphor that this woman and the gossip columnist are essentially dead because they can't evolve with society.  We even get a scene in which we meet the secret masters and Kuttner and Moore try to convince us that they are swell guys, not dictators at all, but doing civilization a great service.

"The Little Things"' ideology is lame and unconvincing elitism, the day dream of people who want to have their lives regulated by their betters because they associate individual freedom with the rough days of the Depression and the cataclysmic upheavals of the Second World War.  And of course I, a man who only reads books or watches movies made over 25 years ago and groans in agony when in a store and his ears are assaulted by music recorded this century, finds the "move with the times or you are as good as dead" theme a little annoying.  As for the plot, it is limp and deflating.  Writers who are bloodthirsty commies might depict changing the world in an exciting way, with the middle classes getting murdered and suffering their property to be expropriated in the name of justice and commissars and activists of the vanguard dying martyrs' deaths as the bourgeois hoarders and wreckers, in their death throes, use their wealth to deploy weapons of mass destruction.  But Kuttner and Moore don't give us those kinds of thrills and horrors--the revolution in "The Little Things" is comfortable, with the masses not even knowing a revolution is taking place, while those who might oppose the revolution are imprisoned in luxury or just sadly drink themselves into oblivion.

Thumbs down!

Left: US edition, 1961     Right: UK edition, 1963

"The Good Egg" by Ross Rocklynne 

According to isfdb, this story has never been reprinted--not a good sign.

"The Good Egg" is a cynical story about how bad parenting leads to evil children, how attractive women use sex to manipulate naive men, how attractive men use their looks to manipulate romantic women, how crooks abuse government programs meant to aid favored constituencies, and how men join the armed services and run terrible risks for civilians who do not appreciate their sacrifices.  This may sound like a clear and accurate picture of real life, not SF at all, don't worry, Rocklynne also includes in "The Good Egg" wacky science fiction elements that function essentially as fantasy elements, like the doppelgangers in Kuttner and Moore's "The Little Things," though Rocklynne's tale otherwise has the plot and themes of a crime story.  "The Good Egg" is also one of those stories that explains that you have to have a firm hand when dealing with women because members of the fair sex are naturally both duplicitous and gullible and will generally benefit from--and most of them actually crave!--the tutelage of a take-charge kind of man.

Doc Ferris is some kind of magician.  He has long employed his pretty daughter Bernice as part of his "stage-setting," and her early recognition of how false the world is and how you can profit by tricking people has had a negative effect on Bernice's morals.  Now, at the end of the Second World War, Bernice is a young adult with a boyfriend, Hugh Grant, a recently discharged veteran of combat in North Africa and Italy.  Grant is sort of naive, and Bernice has him "wound around her little finger," as she puts it.

Doc Ferris has been showing Grant a magic trick.  Some time ago, in a bunch of eggs, Ferris discovered one egg with strange properties; the thing has little glowering sparkles running across its surface, and when you rotate it in your hand, at particular angles it seems to change shape and even vanish from view.  

Grant is interested in science and becomes obsessed with the egg and steals it.  The egg, we readers learn long before Grant does, was laid by a member of an alien race from another dimension.  Inside it is growing, and about to hatch, a telepathic little humanoid being, one fully mature and equipped with racial memory so it has full info about its home dimension and whose telepathy has allowed it to gather full info on our Earth.  This little guy can with trivial ease move between our dimension and that of its people, but if it returns "home" it will be killed by its fellows for having been contaminated by Earth ideas.  (Is this element of the story a satire of the Soviet Union?)

Faithless Bernice has fallen in love with a handsome man, Morrow, a cunning con artist.  Many materials are rationed due to wartime conditions, and are hard to acquire and thus can be sold at high prices on the black market.  Businesses owned by veterans get priority from the government rationing board, and Morrow's SOP is to set up a fake business, seduce a girl with a boyfriend who is a veteran, partner with the vet and thus acquire materials, and then abandon his partner and sell the materials to unscrupulous businessmen.  Bernice uses her sexual wiles to get a skeptical Grant to partner with Morrow; Morrow gets a big shipment of raw leather thanks to Grant's veteran status.  Bernice severs relations with Grant, stupidly thinking that suave Morrow will marry her now that he can make some money, but Morrow has no interest in Bernice, who is far from the first hot chick he has pulled this scam on.

The egg hatches and the alien appears and explains to Grant what is going on.  Grant goes after Bernice, and he and Bernice end up bound in the back of a truck of Morrow's, headed for a watery grave--Morrow has decided he has to murder Grant and Bernice because they are witnesses to his crimes.  Before our dopey and ethically challenged protagonists can be thrown in the river, the alien teleports back to its home dimension where it battles its fellows and seizes a ray gun that it uses to free Grant upon its return; Grant uses the ray gun to outfight Morrow and his thugs.  Morrow and crew end up in prison, and on the advice of the telepathic alien, Grant beats Bernice, turning her into suitable wife material.  The ending joke of the story is that Doc Ferris has found another egg from the alien dimension.

"The Good Egg" is acceptable filler.  The big problem with it is the inconsistent personalities of Hugh Grant and Bernice Ferris, which seem to change to suit the plot instead of being believably consistent and driving the plot.  For example, Grant is obsessed enough with the egg to steal it from the father of the woman he loves, even though he is supposed to be naive and innocent, and then he just forgets about the egg, leaving it alone in his fridge for days.  Sometimes Grant acts like a dope, sometimes like a hard-bitten combat veteran, other times like a science-loving nerd.  As for Bernice, her behavior is such that it is hard to sympathize with her and to hope she and Grant get together, though I guess it is implied that women's psyches are mere clay that have to be molded by the men in their lives so we need not sympathize with her for the story to achieve its goals.  The plot and SF content of "The Good Egg" is serviceable, and if Rocklynne or Sam Merwin had taken the time to polish the story and fix these character issues it would probably rise to good status, but life is short and writers and editors face deadlines and we've all got to pay the mortgage and get the dishes washed and the vases dusted and the lawn mowed and so can't always publish the best possible product.  Even so, historians might find "The Good Egg" useful for its 1946 depictions of the wartime economy and attitudes about women. 

"Never the Twain Shall Meet" by Edmond Hamilton

This tale appears under the byline "Brett Sterling," a pseudonym used several times by Hamilton and other people, including once by Ray Bradbury.  Like Rocklynne's "The Good Egg," it doesn't look like this story was ever reprinted. 

"Never the Twain Shall Meet" is a traditional science fiction story full of space suits, airlocks, little lectures about positrons that refer to Carl David Anderson and brainwaves that refer to Hans Berger, and speculations about where the planets and asteroids came from and how the Sun generates energy.  "Never the Twain Shall Meet" is also a melodramatic love story, perhaps based on the Hans Christian Anderson tale of The Little Mermaid.  Hamilton's style is simple and straightforward and the emotions of his characters, however over the top, ring true.  Thumbs up!

Farrel is the 30-year old captain of a space ship that has broken down near the asteroid belt.  For like 40 years, the human race has been exploring and colonizing the Solar System, but Venus and Mars are off limits, so humans are focusing their efforts on the moons of Jupiter and Uranus.  You see, half the matter of the universe is "positive," and half "negative," and Venus and Mars are negative, and if a piece of positive matter from Earth touches anything from V or M both will be annihilated in a blinding flash!

The crew of Farrel's ship are in serious trouble, but they can maybe fabricate the parts they need to fix the ship if they can drift close enough to an asteroid with the metal they need.  Unfortunately, half the asteroids are negative, making searching the belt very dangerous.

Amazingly, the crew spots another crippled space ship in the belt!  It has an odd shape--an experimental model?  Farrel goes out to investigate in his space suit--he can propel himself with a little hand-held rocket device.  Similarly equipped people come out of the other ship to meet him, one of them a beautiful woman.  Everybody is astonished when they realize they are from different worlds, represent different races--the beautiful girl and her ship are from Mars!  The two groups and their equipment can't touch each other, but Martians have developed devices that operationalize everybody's dormant telepathic ability, so Farrel can communicate with them.

Despite the obstacles facing them, Farrel and the Martian woman fall in love during a crazy adventure in which they get lost in the asteroid belt and have to use logic and science knowledge to reunite with their people, who, in their absence, have repaired their ships.  The Martian makes Farrel promise to meet her in this same spot in a year's time.  He does so, and they have a joyful reunion and start a happy life together because the Martians have figured out a way to change negative matter into positive, and the Martian woman volunteered to be the first human test subject of this technology so she could move to Earth and marry Farrel!

I like it.  The somewhat schmaltzy ending doesn't feel too saccharine because I didn't quite expect it; maybe I am dim, but repeatedly Hamilton had me thinking one of the lovers might die, sacrificing him or herself for the other, or maybe both could die, committing suicide because they prefer death to life without each other.  And, as I have told you again and again, I have a weakness for SF stories that are about people in space suits out there facing death in the void between the worlds.  "Never the Twain Shall Meet" deserves to be reprinted, in my humble opinion.

"Pocket Universes" by Murray Leinster

Yet another story that has not been reprinted, if we are to believe isfdb.  I have found Leinster to be a solid performer, so I have reason to hope I'll enjoy this piece as much as Hamilton's.

"Pocket Universes" is perhaps an illuminating sample of popular beliefs among Americans of people from Latin America, with our narrator, an American, saying stuff like

He was Latin-American—pure Spanish as far as I could tell—and you don’t expect Latin-Americans, somehow, to be scientists....You think of them and of revolutions and politicians, and if you know a few of them you think of poetry and literary effusions and highly intellectual and not very meaty talk. But science, no. Facts seem to hamper most of them.

Our narrator is buddies with a brilliant Latin American scientist, an emigre to the United States living and working in New York.  As the story begins, the scientist has just invented an amazing device.  When powered up, the apparatus, a bunch of copper and crystal pieces and wires, vanishes, and the space it previously occupied has odd effects on light that passes through it, and on objects which intrude into it.  It is as if the space no longer exists--if you reach into the queer blurry area occupied by the device before it was switched on, your hand will vanish inch by inch from your arm while immediately reappearing on the other side of the blurry space, still fully under your control.  Turning off the power causes the device to reappear, and, if anything is occupying the area, that intruding object is destroyed.  Leinster spends a lot of time trying to explain how all this works, both practically and theoretically, but I can't say he succeeds in making it very clear.  (Again, maybe I'm dim.)

The scientist and the narrator take a break from the lab and the sight of a newspaper headline prompts the inventor to tell his tragic life story.  Back home, he had an attractive wife whom his nation's dictator took a liking to.  The dictator's flunkies kidnapped her and she ended up getting killed.  The scientist fomented a revolution against the dictator, but his uprising was crushed.  The scientist fled to America, where he has had a successful career in academia, culminating in today's invention, which the narrator expects will revolutionize the economy and human life by, for example, allowing instantaneous travel between two points, regardless of what might be between them.  With a small portable device you can reach through walls and floors, a larger device walk through such obstacles, and if one is built on an industrial scale, like a highway, one could travel between cities as easily as one walks between two rooms.   

The newspaper story which inspired the inventor to spill his guts tells how the dictator is abdicating under the pressure of the accumulated threats of all his enemies, foreign and domestic, and coming to the United States, to New York, presumably bringing with him all kinds of money and valuables looted from his people and received from Nazis who fled to his country after the war.  To make sure we know the dictator is a bad guy, Leinster tells us he is fat and swarthy!  

The scientist uses upgraded versions of his device to sneak into the dictator's hotel room and seize the loot, which he has sent to the new government of his native country.  Then he murders the dictator.  The narrator upbraids him for risking his life on this adventure when only he can build the device which is going to radically improve human life by making trade and travel so inexpensive.  But the true tragedy of the story is that the scientist decides to experiment with a battery-powered version of his device, and somehow gets stuck inside the warped space--because the device is battery powered, the narrator cannot turn it off from our universe.  The narrator theorizes that, inside the warped space, time passes very slowly, so the batteries may not run out for what we here experience as centuries, even if the inventor only experiences it as a brief period.

(I have to admit I don't understand how the inventor got stuck inside the warped space, as earlier when a guy put his hand in the warped space his hand immediately reappeared on the other side of the warp--his arm wasn't in the warped space, the warped space is like space that is no longer existent.)

"Pocket Universes" is merely acceptable.  Leinster spends lots of energy explaining the device, but his explanations are not very clear and his speculations are wholly fanciful, unlike Hamilton's, which refer to real scientists and real phenomena like electrons and protons.  Leinster also spends a lot of time on the dictator, on describing how ugly and evil he is, but we readers can't get too enthused about the dictator because the narrator never meets him or sees him--he just reads about him in the paper or hears the inventor talk about him; the drama of the dictator's crimes and punishment all happens "off screen."  Unlike with Hamilton's "Never the Twain Shall Meet," I can see why "Pocket Universes" has never been reprinted.

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Only Hamilton's story here is a real winner, though Rocklynne's and Leinster's are not bad.  But none of these stories was a waste of my time, even Kuttner and Moore's, as I have a particular interest in the careers of Kuttner, Moore and Hamilton, and hope to read all of their work before I shuffle off this mortal coil (and I may be developing a similar attachment to Leinster.)  And as a grad school dropout who served time in a History and then a Poli Sci department, all the references to World War II are interesting.

The beautiful header to Thrilling Wonder Stories' letters column

Henry Kuttner and C. L. Moore: "Deadlock," "Nothing But Gingerbread Left," and "Endowment Policy"

Here at MPorcius Fiction Log we have been reading stories from John W. Campbell, Jr.'s Astounding.  We had three stories by Hal Clement, then three stories by Clifford D. Simak, then five stories by divers hands selected by Groff Conklin.  Today let's read three stories by married couple writing team Henry Kuttner and Catherine L. Moore that debuted in issues of Astounding alongside the very stories we've been talking about.  I'll be reading all three in scans of the original World War II era magazines in which they debuted under the pseudonym Lewis Padgett.

"Deadlock" (1942)

This is a jokey story about what we today would call "A.I." with a surprise ending that, I suppose, a reader just might be able to predict.  Kuttner and Moore include a bunch of learned references (to Oscar Wilde--"Reading Gaol," the Old Testament--"Balaam's ass," and Max Planck) but these are just window dressing and have nothing to do with the actual plot.

It is the future of megacorporations that are as powerful or more powerful than governments.  Our main characters work at one of the corps, in a big complex which integrates both the factory floor and the skyscraper where the execs have their offices and which is defended by anti-aircraft weapons and attack helicopters--the other corps are not above sending bombers on missions over the protagonists' corporation.  The corp at the center of the story is in the early phases of developing robots, and still has a monopoly on them.  In this story robots are humanoid machines that are intelligent--they not only understand English but make independent decisions--that you operate by giving them a problem to solve.  The recent and current model robots are made of a practically indestructible alloy which no known weapon can penetrate; this is because the earliest models were all sabotaged by rival corps.  The indestructible nature of the current robots has proved a problem because all of them go insane after a few weeks or months and have to be disposed of by interring them in concrete.

The plot of "Deadlock" is set in motion by the latest robot to come on line, a robot which has gone the longest yet without going insane and has solved plenty of problems for the company.  The robot starts doing what looks like independent research, looking in file cabinets, collecting materials, busying itself in the lab.  There is an explosion, and when our protagonists rush to the site of the blast they find the robot has actually been destroyed!  Hovering over the wreckage is a "gadget"--Kuttner and Moore are very clear this thing does not count as a robot.

The gadget flies all over the factory and the office building, apparently at random, performing all sorts of incredible feats--temporarily making people's skin turn purple or disappear and reappear, nullifying the effect of gravity on objects so they float around, turning the milk in the commissary sour, etc.  This gadget has tremendous power--it can bore through steel and manipulate items on the molecular level and so forth--but it doesn't actually seriously harm any humans.  The protagonists run around, witnessing these astonishing behaviors or their results (which I guess are supposed to be funny to us readers.)  The protagonists come to realize the last robot must have created this superpowerful gadget to solve some problem, but what problem?  They figure a human brain can't follow the super logic of a robot brain, so they bring another robot of the same model on line and ask it to solve the problem of figuring out what the gadget was built for.  Eventually this robot is also destroyed, and we learn that all the robots made of the impenetrable alloy, on their own initiative, tried to figure out the solution to the problem of destroying their indestructible selves.  The robots now sealed in concrete went insane because they couldn't find a solution.  The latest robots were advanced enough to come up with a solution, the gadget.  The protagonists destroy the gadget and face the dismaying truth that it makes no sense to build more robots because they will also be suicidal.

I'm calling this one merely acceptable.  "Deadlock" feels like a bunch of bizarre events just strung together, not convincingly leading one to to another, like Kuttner and Moore came up with material they thought was funny but got the story printed before they had come up with good ways to integrate their gags into a sensical, logical plot in which gag A believably caused the appearance of gag B.  The robots don't just solve the problems posed to them, but are so eager to solve problems that they come up with problems to solve on their own?  The robots don't have any sense of self preservation?  Why does the gadget, after destroying the robot that created it, travel around the complex messing with everything?  Is it also insane?  Why?  And if it is insane, why is the gadget so careful to not kill anybody as it bores holes through walls and floors and alters the atomic structure of people and everything else?  "Deadlock" doesn't really hold together, but it is not boring or annoying, so I am not going to go so far as to say it is bad.

In 1953, "Deadlock" reappeared in the Kuttner collection Ahead of Time.  In the same year, Martin Greenberg, a different man from the anthologist Martin H. Greenberg who gets mentioned in so many of my blogposts, included "Deadlock" in his anthology The Robot and the Man.

I believe I have blogged about two stories that were reprinted in 
The Robot and the Man, Lester del Rey's "Though Dreamers Die" and
Robert Moore Williams' "Robot's Return"

"Nothing But Gingerbread Left" (1943) 

Here we have a story based on some psychological phenomena with which we are all familiar.  The way a tune or phrase can get stuck in the mind and become distracting or annoying.  (This is a fact of which I am reminded every time I am in a store, restaurant or office.)  And the way trying to avoid thinking about something or saying something, or being forbidden to think or say something, makes you more likely to think about it or say it.  (Nothing is more likely to make me laugh than being told by my mother or my wife, "If you laugh at me again I'll....")

"Nothing But Gingerbread Left" takes place during the Second World War, after the launching of Operation Barbarossa.  An American semanticist wishes he could join the war effort but is not medically fit to do so.  His teenage son is always singing some nonsense phrase, and it distracts the college professor from grading papers.  This gives him an idea.  Prof and his star pupil, who knows German and has an uncle who is a senator, compose a catchy jingle in German made up of phrases that are not quite nonsense, but pregnant with meaning and inviting interpretation.  They manage to get the jingle broadcast allover Europe, and, as a result, the entire German population gets the jingle stuck in their heads.  The rhythm, and an obsessive need to extrapolate the significance of the words (among which is the phrase that is the title of the story), distracts individual Germans so severely that it cripples the German war effort.  Men searching a Polish village for weapons fail to find heavy machine guns that are later used by partisans in a deadly ambush of German soldiers.  Luftwaffe crew are so distracted by the song that they are easy prey for RAF Hurricanes.  A German anti-aircraft gunner is so busy singing the song he lets British bombers pass overhead unmolested.  A German scientist working on secret weapons is so distracted he damages expensive lab equipment.  And on and on--Kuttner and Moore offer many examples.  The final example is Adolf Hitler himself flubbing a major speech.

This story is OK.  It is too long, lacks suspense and character, and is really just a bunch of related episodes rather than a narrative with a climax.  Of course, Astounding readers in 1943 probably relished hearing about Nazis getting humiliated by Yankee ingenuity and getting killed by Polish guerillas and British pilots and perhaps found the psychological bits interesting.  "Nothing But Gingerbread Left," as a piece of fiction written and published during the war that portrays Adolf Hitler and Joseph Goebbels as characters, and refers to the RAF, the Luftwaffe, Josef Stalin, and the German invasion of Eastern Europe, is perhaps more valuable to cultural historians curious about the attitudes of ordinary Americans during World War II than to regular readers looking for entertainment.

"Nothing But Gingerbread Left," after its debut in Astounding, has reappeared in a bunch of Kuttner and Moore collections, but has not, it seems, ever been anthologized.

"Endowment Policy" (1943)

Of today's three stories, this one is the best plotted and the most serious, or at least the one I can take the most seriously, and also the most exciting and the one that actually has interesting human characters whose personalities drive the plot.  Thumbs up for "Endowment Policy!"  

Our protagonist is an uneducated and somewhat irresponsible young man in New York in 1943.  His latest job is as a taxi driver, and he doesn't take his job too seriously.  What this guy is really interested in is booze.

An old man with a strange accent offers to pay the taxi driver a thousand bucks to do him a big favor.  We readers pick up on clues that indicate this wrinkled old dude is a time traveler from the future!  We get detective fiction type chase and action scenes as the taxi driver helps this old geezer escape from those pursuing him, and then finally attempt a desperate raid on a Brooklyn house, home of a scientist.  This scientist, the old geez from the future and the time travelers hot on his trail know, is about to discover a superior--a revolutionary!--power source.  The Brooklyn brainiac is going to write down the formula for the power source, and moments later be killed in an accidental explosion resulting from his own error; his notes will be destroyed in the ensuing fire.  The old geez wants the taxi driver to save the notes, while old geez's pursuers want to make sure the notes are destroyed.  In the end, after fights that feature the time travelers' paralyzer guns and the brass knuckles which the taxi driver brings to the party, the old geez and taxi driver fail and the notes goes up in smoke.

In the denouement of "Endowment Policy" we get a little lecture on the old alternative-time-lines-that-branch-forth-from-critical-moments bit we see in so much SF.  The night of the Brooklyn explosion is just one such key moment when a new time line can be created--if the taxi driver had saved the notes he would have used them to become the evil dictator of the Earth.  The old geez was bored with his humdrum life at a routine job in 2016 and stole a time machine and went back in time to shift history to the cabbie-becomes-dictator timeline to spice his own life up.  The authorities of 2016 convict him of these crimes, and the old geez demands the death penalty.  But the future people sentence him to live out his boring career to its natural conclusion.  The ironic ending of the story is that the old geezer's desperate effort to liberate himself from boring work has instead liberated the 1943 taxi driver, a guy who hates boring routine work just like the time machine hijacker, by providing the man the thousand dollars the old geez stole from a museum.  Maybe we readers are supposed to wonder if putting so much moolah in the hands of an unscrupulous slacker is going to lead to a third, heretofore, unsuspected time line, or if the guy is just going to waste the money and end up where he started (as do so many irresponsible people who enjoy a sudden windfall.)

Besides various Kuttner and Moore collections, "Endowment Policy" has been reprinted in Groff Conklin's Science Fiction Adventures in Dimension.

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In my opinion, "Endowment Policy" is the most successful of today's selections by far, but, to be fair, all three stories have different objectives, and we might consider that all three achieve their goals.  "Endowment Policy" is a traditional adventure/crime story that seeks to entertain the reader with violence and suspense and characters whose goals are determined by their personalities and whose behavior is determined by these goals and the obstacles placed before them.  "Deadlock" is a joke story in which personality and a sensible plot take a back seat--the characters and events exist to set up opportunities for jokes.  In "Nothing But Gingerbread Left," character and plot are again subordinated, this time to exploring a psychological theory and to satisfying readers' desire to see their enemies in the current war diminished.  "Nothing But Gingerbread Left" is the most science-fictiony of the stories, its science speculations actually driving the plot, though "Deadlock" and "Endowment Policy" speculate on what the future will be like and use standard science fiction devices--robots in one, time travel and the idea of branching timelines in the other--as a foundation for jokes in the one case and car chases and fights in the case of the other.

More 1940s SF magazine stories in the next episode of MPorcius Fiction Log!

Crossroads in Time: C Simak, F Leiber, K MacLean, P S Miller & G O Smith

Groff Conklin's 1953 paperback anthology Crossroads in Time recently came to my attention when we read from it Hal Clement's story "Assumption Unjustified."  This volume of 312 pages is full of stories by writers we are interested in that, for one reason or another, we haven't read yet.  (I will here note that we have, in fact, already read the included story by Margaret St. Clair, "Thirsty God" as well as Clement's story.)  Today let's read from this book five stories that debuted in Astounding.  I will be reading them in a scan of this 1953 paperback with the awesome Richard Powers cover, though I may consult other versions if I suspect a typo or printing error.

"Courtesy" by Clifford D. Simak (1951)

In our last thrilling expedition into the world of magazines printed before we were born we read three stories printed in Astounding that were penned by Clifford D. Simak, the newspaperman famed for writing "pastoral" science fiction, and here's a fourth.  One of those three stories stole my heart and one of them had me tearing out my hair, so as I begin "Courtesy" I have no idea how I will react to it.

This is one of those SF stories that condemns the human race and presents goody goody aliens who are better than us to serve as a contrast to our vileness.  I'm going to call it acceptable because it is well-written and suspenseful, but the ending is a groaner.  Simak has produced a lot of fiction like this, with ants, dogs, robots all proving better than humans, and Native Americans proving better than white people, and I don't find the theme persuasive or entertaining.

"Courtesy" tells the tale of an expedition to a barren alien planet.  The expedition has twenty-five members, and we meet a few of them and Simak does a good job sketching out their personalities and relationships--like I said, this story, the theme of which and the plot resolution of which I think are crummy, is pretty well-written.  We learn that humans have explored many habitable alien planets, but everywhere they go, the natives hate the humans.  Most of the text of the story involves a guy who stupidly leaves the camp and gets lost, and then how everybody in the expedition, which won't be able to contact any other humans for two years, catches the lethal local plague because the medical officer stupidly didn't check the expedition's drugs before or soon after landing and it turns out the drugs are expired, useless.

Only one man of the 25 survives the plague, and the reason he survives reveals why all aliens hate us humies.  We humies are all arrogant and think we are better than aliens!  The aliens on this planet, naked savages with no technology or literature, have the power to cure people, and they cured the one guy who will survive the plague because he was the only human to show any common courtesy to any of the natives.

The idea that all humans would be arrogant all over the galaxy and all natives resent the humans is silly, because, as Simak seemed to know when he wrote "Ogre" in 1944, interactions between advanced colonial and imperial societies and less advanced indigenes are complex and diverse--sure, plenty of ancient Romans and early modern Europeans who went out to the provinces and colonies looked down on the natives and plenty of natives hated them in return, but significant numbers of the colonizers liked and admired the natives and even "went native" and significant numbers of natives were eager to collaborate or emulate or imitate the colonizers.

You can find this professionally produced but ultimately frustrating and sterile exercise in several anthologies as well as multiple Simak collections.

"The Mutant's Brother" by Fritz Leiber (1943)

"The Mutant's Brother" appeared in the issue of Astounding which had as its cover story C. L. Moore's Judgment Night, a book version of which we read back in 2018; the issue also includes one of A. E. van Vogt's Space Beagle stories, "M33 in Andromeda," as well as a Moore-Kuttner collab--"Endowment Policy"--and an Anthony Boucher story-- "One-Way Trip" I don't think I have read yet.  I feel like I have read lots of old SF stories, but I look at these old SF magazines and still find tons of stories I haven't read yet and want to, as well as stories I have read, like "M33 in Andromeda," and want to reread.  Even if I get a robot to do the dishes and the laundry and to help my wife with the Christmas decorations, I am never going to read all the stories I want to, am I?

"The Mutant's Brother" is a quite good hard-boiled crime story about psychic powers.  Leiber handles quite well the psychological aspects, the action scenes, and the speculative elements about how guys with psychic powers might use them, and there are horror elements as well, and the pacing and the style are just right.  Thumbs up for "The Mutant's Brother!"

It is the high tech future of the early 1970s!  Our protagonist is a mutant, a man who can work other people like puppets via hypnotic telepathy.  Or maybe it is telepathic hypnotism.  Either way, if you are within a hundred or so feet he can make you do anything, and when he stops doing it you have no memory of what happened while you were under his control.

The hero grew up an orphan, raised by good foster parents.  He has been contacted by a twin brother he has never met.  He goes to meet his twin but soon learns his twin has been using his ability to control others to commit heinous crimes.  Overconfident, evil twin has been identified and the entire police force of his city is after him.  Evil twin has lured the protagonist into the town in hopes the cops will mistake our hero for the villain and gun him down and then relax their search for the real malefactor.  Much of the length of the story consists of the hero using his power to survive in a city in which every hand is turned against him and then in a head-to-head battle of hypnotic puppet master vs hypnotic puppet master.  

The tone of the story is sad, depressing, oppressive, and nerve-wracking, with many people, including innocents and people trying to do the right thing, suffering indignities, torture, and horrible deaths.  Conklin here in Crossroads in Time spoils the ending in his intro, which is too bad because "The Mutant's Brother" is the kind of story in which you don't know who will win in the end until you actually get to the end.  

A real success.  Sometimes Leiber goes on too long, or introduces some of his boring or annoying or creepy hobbyhorses and thus weakens his stories*, but "The Mutant's Brother" is perfectly proportioned and every component is appropriate and contributes to the literary and entertainment value of the piece.

*(If you want to hear me attack Leiber stories on these grounds, check out my blog posts on "Nice Girl with Five Husbands," "A Deskful of Girls," The Night of the Wolf, and "Black Glass."  Of course, you might prefer to hear me unreservedly praise Leiber stories like "The Button Molder," "The Dreams of Albert Moreland," "Stardock," and "Ship of Shadows."  If you click the link to the blog post on "Ship of Shadows" you will also have a chance to witness me sarcastically mocking SF royalty Isaac Asimov and Theodore Sturgeon.)

To my mind it is odd that "The Mutant's Brother" has been reprinted less often than Leiber stories that are less exciting and less well-put together; in the 20th century "The Mutant's Brother" reappeared only in Crossroads in Time (and the Spanish translation of Conklin's anthology.), You can find it in two 21st-century Leiber collections, Day Dark, Night Bright and Masters of Science Fiction: Fritz Leiber, fortunately.

"Feedback" by Katherine MacLean (1951)

I enjoyed MacLean's "Unhuman Sacrifice" and "The Gambling Hell and the Sinful Girl" so I have hopes I'll enjoy this one.

Argh, this is a long tedious didactic story about how the common people are conformists who will join a witch-hunting mob on the slightest pretext, set in the America of 1991 in which democracy means conformity and posses of vigilantes regularly set upon free thinkers and lynch them.  "Feedback" features a school teacher who suffers just such a fate after encouraging his students to not conform.  MacLean describes the mob's torture of the teacher in considerable detail, and we get lots of oratory from the heroic school teacher.  There is a sort of twist ending which involves the teacher and his comrades in the secret resistance of middle-class professionals faking his death with their high technology, and a sort of joke reference to Nathan Hale's quote "I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country;" I guess the joke being that the school teacher in the story has multiple "lives" to lose for anti-conformism, he being able to survive multiple lynchings by faking his death.

Seventeen pages of hectoring self-righteousness, an exercise in over-the-top manipulation and extravagant flattery of the audience, Astounding readers of course thinking themselves smarter than everybody else and dreaming of outwitting their inferiors with superior technology.  Thumbs down!

"Feedback" was reprinted in the MacLean collection The Diploids and it has also reappeared in Martin H. Greenberg and Joseph Olander's Science Fiction of the Fifties and the German anthology Der metallene Traum.

"The Cave" by P. Schuyler Miller (1943)

"The Cave" starts out like a science article describing how caves are formed and used by animals.  The cave in this story is, however, on Mars.  After three pages of geology we hear how a native Martian, a barbarian hunter in touch with nature with a sense of smell and ability to detect vibrations that allow him to navigate with ease in total dark and interpret the moods and emotions of all the critters that live in the cave, arrives at the cave to wait out a storm.  The monsters in the cave and he silently agree to a truce for the duration of the storm.

After hearing how awesome this Martian is, even though his people don't have a written language any more, their high civilization having fallen thousands of years ago, we meet a human colonist, a working-class moron who is greedy, loves alcohol, and is racist towards the noble native Martians.  This guy, a miner, uses his free time to explore the deserts of Mars in hopes of finding some kind of treasure, even though the managers of the mining company, you know, middle-class people with book-larning, are sure the valuable minerals of Mars were all used up by the high-tech ancestors of the currently barbaric native Martians.  The storm drives him into the cave (he finds it by sheer luck) and he encounters the Martian and all the monsters in the cave.  Of course the man acts like a selfish jerk, unlike the Martian and the monsters with whom the hunter shares a code of honor, and gets killed by the noble Martian.   

This story is well-written; the plot is suspenseful and all the stuff about the cave and the native Martian ecosystem is believable and engaging, so I enjoyed this story even though it is yet another allegory about the evil white man abusing the noble indigenes who live in concert with the natural world.  (In 200 years, when the Chinese communists have conquered the Earth, will their creative class be writing stories that romanticize the English-speaking people they have crushed under their heels, the Anglo's bizarre individualism and incomprehensible notions of free speech and private property?)  So, thumbs up, even though I wish the human had come out of the cave alive, maybe gripping a fistful of jewels.

"The Cave" debuted in an issue of Astounding which also prints one of Jack Williamson's Seetee stories--one of my widely-read commentors recently recommended the Seetee stories to us.  Also in this issue, A. E. van Vogt's "The Search," which was integrated into the novel Quest for the Future and which I read in 2016, one of Anthony Boucher's Fergus O'Breen stories (we just read one of those), one of Henry Kuttner's Gallegher stories (we read one of those in 2014) and a Kuttner/Moore collaboration.  Probably we'll be coming back to this issue of Astounding.       

"The Cave" was reprinted in anthologies by Brian Aldiss, Martin H. Greenberg, and Jane Hipolito and Willis E. McNelly.

"Vocation" by George O. Smith (1945)

It looks like "Vocation" has never reappeared in physical print beyond Crossroads in Time.  Are we about to uncover a forgotten gem?  

No, we are not.  "Vocation" is merely acceptable.  

"Vocation" is full of science, but science I am having trouble taking too seriously.  The whole story is based around the idea that humans use only 10% of their brains, which I think is a myth.  Also, there is a lot of talk about evolution that anthropomorphizes nature, suggesting that nature is designing and improving the design of the human race over time, aiming to achieve some final perfect form, the way engineers design equipment and steadily improve succeeding models of the equipment.

"Nature causes many sports to be sterile because they interfere with her proper plan."

"Nature expects the brain to be called on, one hundred percent, and she intends to keep increasing that ability as it is needed."

This kind of stuff would be fine in a fantasy story or horror story, where we accept gods and the supernatural and so on, but this story feels like it is supposed to be hard SF, and this undermines that feel, and these brain and evolution issues are not a casual aside, but the entire foundation of the story.  

Another issue with "Vocation" is that it consists almost entirely of conversations, which is not that exciting.

It is the future of aircars and other such high technology.  Humans have yet to reach the stars.  The starfaring galactic civilization has made itself known to Terra, and there are two alien ambassadors on Earth, a really charming good-looking guy and his very charming and good-looking wife.  They are here to offer advice to humans, but they refuse to give away the technological secrets that will enable travel between the stars.

The plot of "Vocation" follows a few smart humans--a scientist and a journalist--who are a little skeptical of the aliens.  Why won't they give us the star drive?  Are they afraid of us because we are so aggressive and ambitious?  These guys come up with the theory that we humies only use 10% of our brains because the aliens are emitting a field upon Earth that limits our brain usage.  They start working on a device to cancel out that field, or increase the amount we can use our brains so we get closer to 100%.  The device works.  The scientist has the machine hooked up to his skull, and after a few minutes of writing supergenius-level equations on paper, he dies.  The brain is like a motor, if you run it at 100% too long it burns out.  Oops.  The journalist is just standing near the machine, and the fraction of the field that leaks out of the connections is enough to make him the smartest human on Earth, as smart as the alien ambassadors.  The best part of Smith's story is the description of the powers having a 260 IQ gives the journalist.

The journalist goes to meet the ambassador.  The journalist is smart enough now to realize the aliens are the goody goodies they present themselves as--they aren't scared of us, they aren't retarding our development, and they really are refusing to offer us the technology needed to travel between the stars on a silver platter for our own good--we haven't developed the ability to use the technology responsibly yet.  The human race will have to achieve a star drive on its own; by the time we are smart enough to invent it we'll also have naturally grown to a level of responsibility to enable us to use the tech without blowing up the sun or something.  The journalist resolves to destroy the brain-improving machine.

Smith includes a twist and sense-of-wonder ending that I think is unnecessary.  In one of those coincidences we so often find in fiction, one of the ambassadors' direct superiors happens to be visiting on the very day the journalist increases his intelligence.  The ambassador introduces the journalist to this alien if the next level up, and this guy is so intelligent it blows the journalist's mind--among their own people, the ambassadors, at 260 IQ, are morons, and are sent on this kind of mission because it is impossible for humans of a mere 100 or so IQ to communicate with an alien of average IQ.      

"Vocation" is like a filler piece, not bad, but no big deal.

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We think of old science fiction, in particular science fiction associated with Astounding editor John W. Campbell, Jr., as optimistic about science and technology and as being a celebration of the ability of man to master the environment and solve problems.  But today's five stories are all about human limitations and human evil.  I guess Astounding was serving up a pretty varied diet to readers.

More samples from that diet next time here at MPorcius Fiction Log.

Clifford D. Simak: "Ogre," "Lobby," and "Eternity Lost"

As was foretold, today we read "Ogre," Clifford Simak's contribution to the January 1944 issue of Astounding.  (We've already read the A. E. van Vogt, Frank Belknap Long, Hal Clement and P. Schuyler Miller fiction in this issue of John W. Campbell's genre-defining magazine.)  We'll also take a look at two other Astounding pieces by Simak, "Lobby," another 1944 story, and 1949's "Eternity Lost."  I'm reading all of these stories in scans of the issues of Astounding in which they debuted.

"Ogre" (1944)

Here we have a story full of great science fiction ideas, ideas that exploit and reflect our fears of loneliness as well as of loss of individuality, our fascination with art and our vulnerability to dangerous addictions, our dreams of perfect health and concerns over who and what determines our true identities--does our blood or the place we were born determine who we are, or can we adopt piecemeal or in toto the culture of people of other races and civilizations?  "Ogre" also reminds us of all those Somerset Maugham stories about Westerners out in the colonies, trying to make a buck, dealing with the inscrutable natives and running the risk of--or embracing the thrill of--going native.  Well-written and fun at the same time it tackles these issues of identity and imperialism, with "Ogre" we are starting off this blog post with a hit--thumbs up!

"Ogre" has many characters but almost all of them have personalities and strong motivations so they aren't hard to tell apart and most of them provide drama or entertainment and/or offer illustrations of the story's themes.  "Ogre" is set on a planet where plants developed intelligence and animal-like mobility.  Native to this world are plants like sheets or cloaks that can crawl around and can tap into the brain activity of any other living thing they touch.  When humans arrived on the planet these things, called "blankets" throughout the story, were thrilled to develop a symbiotic relationship with Earthers, because these blankets have naturally dim wits and dull lives, but connected to a man they suddenly had deep feelings and the ability for complex thought.  Humans embraced these relationships because the blankets have super-efficient physiologies and can absorb energy directly from the environment, heal quickly and fend of disease with ease, and when touching a human they can share these abilities with him--a man with a blanket need not eat, and can quickly recover from any kind of injury or infection, beyond having a constant companion who shares his attitudes and goals.

The blankets are kind of like non-white individuals during the ages of exploration and imperialism who take on the culture of white colonists, subalterns who embrace service to their technological superiors.  Simak in "Ogre" also dramatizes the opposite sort of relationship, the colonist who goes native.  Among the many other types of sentient plants on this vegetable-dominated planet are trees that produce music of staggering beauty.  Much money can be made by human merchants who can record this music and sell it to Earthers living around the galaxy.  But there is a risk to this music--it is so beautiful that humans can become addicted to it and neglect their health and abandon all social norms as they become obsessed with it.  A major component of the plot of the story is the behavior of a man who becomes obsessed in this way, and another plot strand involves one of the intelligent ambulatory plants--probably the most intelligent of them--who hatches a scheme to use the trees to become master of the human race.

With all these plants who want to become like men and men who fall under the sway of plants we have , multiple examples of entities of one culture or species who desire to, or risk being forced to, take on elements of the identities of another culture or race.  And there's more!  We also have an iteration of a characteristic Simak character--the sympathetic robot who is probably "better" than humans but who yearns to be considered human.  This robot is at the Earth trading post at the behest of the interstellar business enterprise that owns the post, charged with the mission of making sure the humans working for the corporation do not steal or otherwise misuse and waste the corporation's resources and ensuring compliance with the many company rules and government regulations that govern the company and its employees.  This robot plays the role of a comic relief character--it even has bad grammar--but is also the hero of the story, being more honest, more brave, better at fighting, etc., than the rest of the cast.  This character brings a lot to the story, but I will warn my 21st-century readers that this character may be modelled on and intended to remind readers of stereotypes of nagging women and African-American subalterns, and the robot does use the dreaded "N-word," the word people of my ancestry use nowadays only at great risk, in the cliche "n----- in the woodpile."

Looking beyond the numerous humans and the various types of plants, plus the robot, this planet is also the site of a rival trading post to that of the Earthers, an outpost of evil insectoids from another space faring civilization.  This story offers multiple examples of what some of the characters consider treason to the race, and one of them is provided by a human who joins the insect people in an operation against the interests of the Earth station.

As for the plot of "Ogre," I won't get too far into it except to say it is full of incident--dangerous journeys, gun fights, hand-to-hand combat, monster attacks, double crosses, schemes that offer tremendous wealth and threaten entire civilizations.  Simak handles all this material ably--the fighting and scheming is entertaining and exciting and the comic relief and serious themes of the story work in concert with the action-adventure material instead of undermining or sidelining it.        

I can't think of anything bad to say about "Ogre."  A very fine piece of work.  Highly recommended to anybody with any interest in popular fiction.  

After its debut in this terrific issue of Astounding, "Ogre" reappeared in Donald Wollheim's Adventures on Other Planets, multiple European anthologies, multiple "Best of Astounding /Analog" volumes, and several Simak collections.  

"Lobby" (1944)

"Ogre" was about universal, timeless, concerns, like imperialism and identity, that are inherently interesting.  "Lobby" is about particular, timely, concerns, like atomic power, that are sort of interesting, and things that I guess are sort of universal and timeless, like industrial espionage and government corruption, but are sort of boring.  "Lobby"'s characters are a bore, mere cardboard cutouts.  Its plot is resolved by a deus ex machina device--lame!  Plus, it is one of those stories that craps on the traditions of Anglo-American liberalism, like jury trials and elected government and private enterprise, in favor of technocratic world government--gross!  A big step down from "Ogre."

It is the post-World War II world.  World government is trying to take control, but its hands are full in the ruins of Europe and Asia so the United States still has its independence.  Cobb is a businessman based in New York and Butler is the world's greatest scientist, out in Montana.  Butler is on the brink of bringing the world's first atomic power plant on line; Cobb is his partner, handling the business and political end.  Atomic power has the potential to revolutionize the world economy--the arrival of cheap and abundant energy will end poverty.  But the people who own and manage and work for and have invested in the fossil fuel and hydroelectric power industries (in this story they are lumped together as "the power lobby") will lose their livelihoods, or so they think, and so they oppose the development of atomic reactors, telling the world atomic power is dangerous, setting up a bogus religious sect to preach against messing with the atom, buying off senators, etc.

The atomic reactor in Montana is almost ready to go online and prove that atomic power is safe and efficient, so the power lobby sabotages it; the resulting catastrophic explosion kills 100 people.  Luckily, Butler and all his files survive.  But isn't this the kind of PR blow that will end all public support for atomic power?

Here comes the deus ex machina!  A genius lawyer from the world government (somehow) has all the evidence necessary to prove that the power lobby blew up the reactor.  The power lobby says that his evidence won't be enough to convince a jury, but the man from the world government says ha ha, there will be no jury--at the world court in Switzerland expert judges decide cases, not juries of gullible and emotional proles!  The world government lawyer proceeds to blackmail the power lobby--in return for not being put on trial, the lobby's ringleaders agree to work in concert with Butler and Cobb under the direction of the world government to bring atomic power to the masses without too much economic dislocation.  The legal eagle gloats that, once the world government has control of atomic power, individual governments like that in the U.S. will lose all power and there will be no more elections decided by easily swayed commoners and no more private business run by greedy money grubber, just scientists running the world scientifically. 

Disgusting!  Thumbs down!

(For the record, I think nuclear power is great, but I wouldn't abandon elected government, private property, and trial by jury to get it.)

The issue of Astounding that includes "Lobby" also features A. E. van Vogt's "The Changeling," various forms of which I have read and blogged about, and Fritz Leiber's "Sanity," the version of which known as "Crazy Wolf" I have read and blogged about.  "Lobby" resurfaced to preach its gospel of atomic power and rule by unelected eggheads in Groff Conklin's The Best of Science Fiction in 1946.  In 2023 it reappeared in the Simak collection Buckets of Diamonds and Other Stories, the thirteenth volume of The Complete Short Fiction of Clifford D. Simak.  I guess The Complete Short Fiction of Clifford D. Simak isn't presenting Simak's work in chronological order.

"Eternity Lost" (1949)

The July 1949 issue of Astounding in which we find "Eternity Lost" includes James H. Schmitz's "Agent of Vega," a book version of which we read in 2016, when we were young.  The cover story is nonfiction, about a nuclear reactor.

"Eternity Lost" shares a lot with "Lobby;" we've got a world government and a new form of technology being suppressed by a conspiracy.  But, thankfully, this story also has a decent plot, an effort to create a human character, and a surprise twist ending.  We'll call it mildly recommendable.

After the world government based in Geneva took over, longevity treatments were developed--when a person gets old, like around 90 or so, such a treatment can rejuvenate him, give him another approximately 100 years.  The government decided that it wouldn't fair if people could buy this boon, and giving it to everybody wouldn't be practicable, so it was decided that only a tiny number of people should be able to get rejuvenated, people chosen by the government, ostensibly because they are providing a service to humanity.  Simak includes dialogue from the government hearings that led to this decision, including testimony from various people attacking the rejuvenation program, as flashbacks throughout the story.

The main story takes place like 500 years after those hearings.  The man who chaired those hearings, Senator Leonard, is almost 600 years old and has had five of the rare treatments.  But as the story begins he learns that he won't be getting another!  Why?  It looks like he will lose the next election, and his party isn't going to pull the strings necessary for him to get a sixth treatment.  Already old and starting to forget things, Leonard only has a few years to live!

Simak does a decent job describing Leonard's emotions and philosophical reflections upon facing death as well as speculating about how individuals and society might respond to the fact that a tiny elite minority gets to live indefinitely.  Simak also presents a pretty good plot as Leonard scrambles to figure out a way to get a rejuvenation treatment illegally.  Leonard learns that advancements have been made in longevity science--actual immortality has been achieved!  But kept secret from the public and even top legislators like himself because the news might cause economic and political upheaval.  Leonard also learns that the cabal that controls the immortality technique will release the technique to the public when a viable extrasolar space program has been developed and discovered alien planets suitable for colonization.

Leonard fails to figure out how to get a treatment through unconventional channels.  So he decides to go out with a bang, to do the George Costanza "I am breaking up with you!" thing.  Before the public finds out that he has been denied a rejuvenation treatment, he announces to the world that he is refusing his next treatment to show solidarity with the common people.  He figures this will blacken the reputation of all the other people who have been getting the treatments, the people who turned their backs on him--revenge!

Leonard becomes wildly popular!  But then comes the twist ending!  The cabal that controls the immortality technique has secretly developed space craft that can reach hospitable alien planets and is secretly organizing recon expeditions to them.  They sent Leonard a letter inviting him to get immortality and join just such an expedition a week ago, but because he is getting forgetful on his senescence, he forgot to look at his mail.  Now that he has turned against the elite of which he is a part they, of course, are rescinding the offer, and Leonard will soon die, knowing he was so so close to living forever and spending that life as a vigorous and respected man, exploring the universe.

There are plot holes in this story, and elements that don't make a lot of sense, and of course it advocates elite manipulation of the public, but still it isn't actually bad, the main character, pacing, and twist ending offering entertainment.

"Eternity Lost" would reappear in Everett F. Blieler and T. E. Dikty's The Best Science Fiction Stories: 1950 and in Campbell's big (like 600 pages!) The Astounding Science Fiction Anthology and its little  abridged paperback version (fewer than 200 pages.)  Martin H. Greenberg included it in three different anthologies, and the story would be reproduced in the tenth volume of The Collected Short Fiction of Clifford D. Simak, The Shipshape Miracle and other stories.

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It's a roller coaster ride!  We've got "Ogre," a five-neurotic-robots-out-of-five story, "Lobby," a story that sucks and even made me angry, and then "Eternity Lost," a decent twist ending story.  "Ogre" and "Eternity Lost" have merit as entertainment and have good science fiction ideas and of course I am recommending them.  But let's play devil's advocate--I can even make a case for reading the execrable "Lobby" to those of you who are students of popular literature.

Science fiction is the literature of ideas, the literature that speculates on technology and its effect on society, the literature of the paradigm shift, the literature that considers alternate ways of organizing society and living your life.  Well, that is what "Lobby" is all about...all about, it totally lacking any kind of literary or entertainment value.  "Lobby" represents a type of science fiction, the story that offers ideas and advocates for their adoption to the exclusion of all else, and it represents a large segment of the science fiction community that sees science and technology as the key to a better future, and prioritizes science and technology over traditional American values like democracy and the market economy, that in the period of the Depression, the Second World War, and the early Cold War, advocated for atomic power, technocracy, and world government as solutions to the crises facing the world in the 1930-1960 era.  So I guess I am sort of telling you to read "Lobby," even though I am suggesting you likely won't enjoy it.

More Astounding stories in our next episode--science fiction fans, stay tuned!