By Alexei Panshin
A desirable array of reports from the boundless mind's eye of Hugo and Nebula profitable Alexei Panshin taking the brain on a trip from the close to and ordinary to the farther reaches of what we needs to turn into. ***“A notable collection... considerate and provocative and, better of all, superbly written.” —Sunday Oregonian***
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Extra info for Farewell to Yesterday's Tomorrow
The one without a hat said, “Have you no sense of propriety? Oh, the shame! ” His accent was strange but intelligible. Arpad tried again. “They’ve been keeping me on one of the Ships for the last two years. Moskalenka. I’ve left now. I’ve run away and I’m . . ” He gave them an anxious pleading look. He was, after all, only a thirteen-year-old boy. He might walk a full day into the unknown. He might make totals of his enemies and subtract and divide them in his mind. But his resources were limited.
Then at last he turned and looked for Garth. Garth was not there. Fear rose again in Tansman. Limping, he came on Garth’s body on the path. Garth was crawling. Tansman seized him by the leg. Garth cocked his other leg and kicked Tansman in the face. Tansman let go and Garth continued to crawl up the hillside. Tansman pried a muddy rock out of the hillside. It was just larger than his hand. He crawled after Garth, grabbed and held him with one hand and hit him in the head with the rock. He did it several times and the rock was bloody.
Garth should have been grateful. Garth gave a cry and fell dead. Tansman rolled away and came to his feet. He threw the knife as far away as he could. He was bleeding and a collection of bangs and bruises. He was sick and unsteady and he threw up, the taste hot and sour in his mouth. And retched again, and then again. Then at last he turned and looked for Garth. Garth was not there. Fear rose again in Tansman. Limping, he came on Garth’s body on the path. Garth was crawling. Tansman seized him by the leg.