By Clifford D. Simak
greater than 1000 years have handed in view that humankind deliberately destroyed its treacherous know-how, determining to revert again to a primitive tribal country. during this society the rusting mind situations of long-inert robots are thought of trophies, and the scant wisdom that has survived is doled out to an inquisitive few in monastery-like “universities.” it really is at one such heart of studying that younger Tom Cushing first reads of the mythical “Place of Going to the Stars,” rumored to exist on a excessive butte someplace within the western a part of the land. pushed by means of enthusiasm and an insatiable have to music the parable to its resource, Tom units out on an awesome trek throughout what used to be referred to as “America,” teaming up with a witch, the world’s final last robotic, and different peculiar partners. yet the entire amazing discoveries and hazards they come across alongside the best way will light earlier than the revelations that look forward to them at journey’s end.
Clifford D. Simak, award-winning technological know-how fiction Grand grasp, deals a panoramic imaginative and prescient of the long run that's either dystopian and hopeful in equivalent degree. In A historical past of Stars, he boldly monitors the center, intelligence, and remarkable innovative powers that experience verified him as one of many all-time maximum authors of speculative fiction.
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Extra info for A Heritage of Stars
Meg,” he said, “take Andy. Gross over to the island. Work as deep as you can into the willows and stay quiet. Keep Andy quiet. Don’t let him make a sound. ” “But, laddie boy—” “Move, dammit. Don’t stand there. Get over to that island. ” “But I can’t swim,” she wailed. “It’s shallow,” he snapped. “You can walk it. It won’t come up higher than your waist. Hang tight to Andy; if you get into trouble, he’ll take you across. ” he said, shoving at her. Rollo was off the bluff, running like a whirlwind for the river.
A thousand years ago a man at the university wrote a history of the Time of Trouble and, in the course of his writing, speculated upon the ritual of the brain-case collections and their symbolism, but without reaching a conclusion. Until I read his history, I had not heard of the custom. I spent three years of woods-running, mainly in the South, and I had never heard of it. Perhaps it was because I made it my business to stay away from people. That’s a good rule for a lone woods runner to follow.
Not blind in that we are unaware of them, for, to their sorrow, we are very much aware of them. What we are entirely blind to is the fact that they have a consciousness even as we have a consciousness. “You’ll pardon me,” said Cushing, “if I seem unable immediately to grasp the full significance of what you’re telling me. This is something that I have never thought of even in the wildest fantasies. ” “They were talking to me,” said the old man. “They were telling me of a thing of wonder. To the west, they tell me, is a group of plants—I gather they are trees—that seem alien to this land, brought here many years ago.