The Complete Short Stories: The 1950s. Brian Aldiss

The Complete Short Stories: The 1950s - Brian  Aldiss


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       The Complete Short Stories: The 1950s

      BY BRIAN ALDISS

      The Friday Project An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 77–85 Fulham Palace Road Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

       www.harpercollins.co.uk

      This ebook first published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2013

      Copyright © Brian Aldiss 2013

      Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2013

      Brian Aldiss asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

      FIRST EDITION

      A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

      This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

      All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

      Source ISBN: 9780007482085

      Ebook Edition © August 2013 ISBN: 9780007482092

      Version: 2014-10-03

      We are indebted to the following individuals who provided rare source materials: Jim Linwood, Richard Fidczuk and Phil Stephensen-Payne.

      Contents

       Title Page

       Copyright

       Dedication

      A Book in Time

      Criminal Record

      Breathing Space

      The Great Time Hiccup

       The Flowers of the Forest

       Gesture of Farewell

       The Ice Mass Cometh

       Let’s Be Frank

       No Gimmick

       The War Millennia

       The Sterile Millennia

       The Dark Millennia

       The Ultimate Millennia

       The Shubshub Race

       Supercity

       Judas Danced

       Ten-Storey Jigsaw

       The Pit My Parish

       Blighted Profile

       Who Can Replace A Man?

       The Carp That Once …

       Carrion Country

       Equator

       Fourth Factor

       The Megalopolis Millennia

       The Star Millennia

       The Mutant Millennia

       The New Father Christmas

       Ninian’s Experiences

       Poor Little Warrior!

       Sector Diamond

       Sight of a Silhouette

       They Shall Inherit

       Are You An Android?

       The Arm

       The Bomb-Proof Bomb

       Fortune’s Fool

       Intangibles, Inc.

       Sector Yellow

       The Lieutenant

       The Other One

       Safety Valve

       The Towers of San Ampa

       Three’s a Cloud

       About the Author

       Also by Brian Aldiss

       About the Publisher

       A Book in Time

      I was browsing in Albert’s, down Cecil Court, when I saw another customer slipping books under his coat. Indignation high, I made a grab at him, but he had seen my glance and was out of the shop before you could say ‘Limited signed edition’.

      I followed hot-foot (crepes always do that to me). Luckily, he did not run far. He had something that looked to my wild glance like a car, hidden behind a pile of crates in a hotel yard. As I jumped on to the running board, I realised it was a queer make. It had no steering wheel, no driving wheels. A publisher? The wild thought flashed through my head, and then my quarry at the dashboard flipped a lever …

      London was gone! At least, the old one had disappeared. It simply blurred and vanished, and a new one of smooth stone and metal took its place. We seemed not to have moved. I was bowled over; indeed, when the fugitive opened his door, I was knocked over.

      ‘Never impede a passing time machine,’ he said, helping me up.

      ‘Time machine?’ I queried. Could that really be the hideous explanation of the strangeness around about me?

      ‘What year is this?’


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