Isaac Asimov & Martin H. Greenberg & Jioseph D. Olander (ed) by 100 Great Science Fiction Short Short Stories

Author:100 Great Science Fiction Short Short Stories
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-02-06T14:28:28+00:00

Meanwhile, the Good Doctor was typing away on an endless sheet of “paper” one hundred yards wide that seemed to materialize within the machine itself.

Indeed, no part of the machine ever needed replacing, it seemed to be self-renewing. This included Doctor Asimov. The only clue to the typewriter’s mysterious operation was a long electric cord that trailed out into the Atlantic.

Isaac pounded out his message twenty-four hours a day. His massive MS. had already clogged New York Harbor, and was now piling up on shore, curling around docks, gift wrapping high rises, paving the streets with the seemingly indestructible “paper.” The letters did not blur or fade; whole crowds were seen walking down the paper pavement, reading in fascination.

The works were on every subject imaginable. Science: a new Theory of Relativity. Humor: The City of New York nearly died laughing. Fiction: A new trilogy (Science Fiction, of course).

The Mayor rowed out in a dinghy to try and talk Asimov into laying off for a while. Isaac listened to him, hitting the G, racing up underneath the Y, U, I, and pouncing on the O. He told the Mayor a funny joke and continued with his work.

Various other officials rowed out to plead with him but got nowhere. Friends and relatives, fellow scientists and writers, all attempted to dissuade him, but to no avail. He was offered immense sums of money and didn’t even blink.

The Science Fiction Writers of America promised to give up their trade, en masse. No good. The World Science Fiction Convention offered him a special Hugo Award as “World’s Greatest and Most Prolific Writer and Nicest Guy in the Cosmos.” Fiddlesticks, said Asimov.

By now, the monstrous MS. had spread across New York State in a broad white swath—having the most interesting effect on Niagara Falls—crossed Lake Erie (if that didn’t stop it, what could?) and tied Detroit in knots—literally.

At about this time, a mighty roar, a colossal splash, and out of San Francisco Bay emerged yet another giant typewriter.

As the spray cleared, there stood the figure of Robert Silverberg, a dark glint in his eastward gazing eyes, water dripping from his long hair and beard. In his hand he held a long pole and he explained (while demonstrating) that by pole vaulting between the keys he expected to surpass Asimov.

Another set of type faces whacked twenty-four hours a day; once more, miles of indestructible MS. This time it was the Bay Bridge that got knocked over.

And so began the Great Race. Hank Aaron was forgotten overnight, and the Americans, being a sporting people, started rooting for one or the other.

Attempts at placation were abandoned—for what one-of-a-kind honor could be granted twice? However, lesser honors rained down, in order to show affection and confidence in one or the other of the two.

Silverberg was voted Best Dressed Science Fiction Writer. Asimov turned down a presidential bid.

Neither bothered more than a blink with all the silly business and continued typing at a tremendous pace.

Asimov, in order to speed up production, created a Tarzanic arrangement so he could swing from key to key.

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