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.They didn't find his body, but they did find a smoke signal; curling up in thethin air and whipping away in the gusts.They let down a grapple and Jimmycame up, still in his spacesuit, looking like hell, but definitely alive.The p.s.to the story involves my visit to the hospital last week to see him.He was recovering very slowly.The doctors said shock, they said exhaustion,Page 31ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlbut Jimmy's eyes said a lot more.I said, How about it, Jimmy, you haven't talked to the reporters, you haven'ttalked to the government.All right How about talking to me? I've got nothing to say, he whispered. Sure you have, I said. You livedon top of Mount Everest during a two-week blizzard.You didn't do that byyourself, not with all the supplies we dumped along with you.Who helped you,Jimmy boy?I guess he knew there was no use trying to bluff.Or maybe he was anxious toget it off his mind.He said, They're intelligent, boss.They compressed air for me.They set up alittle power pack to keep me warm.They set up the smoke signal when theyspotted the airplane coming back. I see. I didn't want to rush him. It's like we thought.They've adapted toEverest life.They can't come down the slopes. No, they can't.And we can't go up the slopes.Even if the weather didn'tstop us, they would! They sound like kindly creatures, so why should they object? They helpedyou. They have nothing against us.They spoke to me, you know.Telepathy.I frowned. Well, then. But they don't intend to be interfered with.They're watching us, boss.They've got to.We've got atomic power.We're about to have rocket ships.They're worried about us.And Everest is the only place they can watch usfrom!I frowned deeper.He was sweating and his hands were shaking.I said, Easy, boy.Take it easy.What on Earth are these creatures?And he said, What do you suppose would be so adapted to thin air and subzerocold that Everest would be the only livable place on earth to them.That's thewhole point.They're nothing at all on Earth.They're Martians.And that's it.=====And now let me explain the reason I frequently discussEVEREST.Naturally, I did not actually believe that there were Martians onMount Everest or that anything would long delay the eventual conquest of themountain.I just thought that people would have the decency to refrain fromclimbing it until the story was published.But no! On May 29, 1953, less than two months after I had written and soldEVEREST, Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay stood upon Everest's highest pointand saw neither Martians nor AbominableSnowmen.Of course, Universe might have sacrificed thirty dollars and left the storyunpublished; or I might have offered to buy back the story.Neither of us madethe gesture and EVEREST appeared in the December 1953issue ofUniverse.Since I am frequently called on to discuss the future of man, I can't helpusing EVEREST to point out what an expert futurist I am.After all, Ipredicted that Mount Everest would never be climbed, five months after it wasclimbed.Nowadays it is quite fashionable to publish anthologies of original sciencefiction stories, and I rather disapprove of this.It drains off some of thestories and readers that might otherwise go to the magazines.Idon't want that to happen.I think that magazines are essential to sciencefiction.Is my feeling born of mere nostalgia? Does it arise out of the memory of whatscience fiction magazines meant to me in my childhood and of how they gave mePage 32ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlmy start as a writer? In part, yes, I suppose; but in part it is the result ofan honest feeling that they do playa vital role.Where can a young writer get a start? Magazines, appearing six or twelve timesa year, simply must have stories.An anthology can delay publication till thedesired stories come in; a magazine cannot.Driven by unswervable deadlines, amagazine must accept an occasional substandard story, and an occasional youngwriter gets a start while he is still perhaps of only marginal quality.Thatwas how I got my start, in fact.It means, to be sure, that the reader is subjected to an occasional amateurishstory in the magazine, but the amateur writer who wrote it gets enoughencouragement to continue working and to become (just possibly) a greatwriter.When the anthologies of original science fiction first appeared, however, theywere novelties.I never really thought they would come to much, and had nofeeling of contributing to an impending doom when Iwrote for them.In fact, since they paid better than the magazines usuallydid, I felt good about writing for them.The first of the breed wasNew Tales of Space and Time, edited by Raymond J.Healy (Henry Holt, 1951),and for it I wroteIn a Good Cause-a story that was eventually included in NIGHTFALL AND OTHERSTORIES.A few years later, August Derleth was editing an anthology of originals, andfor it I wrote THE PAUSE.THE PAUSEThe white powder was confined within a thin-walled, transparent capsule.Thecapsule was heat-sealed into a double strip of parafilm.Along that strip ofparafilm were other capsules at six-inch intervals.The strip moved.Each capsule in the course of events rested for one minute ona metal jaw immediately beneath a mica window.On another portion of the faceof the radiation counter a number clicked out upon an unrolling cylinder ofpaper.The capsule moved on; the next took its place.The number printed at 1:45 P.M.was 308.A minute later 256 appeared.A minutelater, 391.A minute later, 477.A minute later, 202.A minute later, 251.Aminute later, 000.A minute later, 000.A minute later, 000.A minute later,000.Shortly after 2 P.M.Mr.Alexander Johannison passed by the counter and thecomer of one eye stubbed itself over the row of figures.Two steps past thecounter he stopped and returned.He ran the paper cylinder backward, then restored its position and said, Nuts!He said it with vehemence.He was tall and thin, with big-knuckled hands,sandy hair, and light eyebrows.He looked tired and, at the moment, perplexed.Gene Damelli wandered his way with the same easy carelessness he brought toall his actions.He wasdark, hairy, and on the short side.His nose had once been broken and it madehim look curiously unlike the popular conception of the nuclear physicist.Damelli said, My damned Geiger won't pick up a thing, and I'm not in the moodto go over the wiring.Got a cigarette?Johannison held out a pack
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