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