By Clifford D. Simak
greater than 1000 years have handed in view that humankind deliberately destroyed its treacherous expertise, determining to revert again to a primitive tribal nation. during this society the rusting mind instances 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's at one such middle 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 grand trek throughout what used to be known as “America,” teaming up with a witch, the world’s final last robotic, and different unusual partners. yet the entire extraordinary discoveries and hazards they stumble upon alongside the best way will faded sooner than the revelations that look forward to them at journey’s end.
Clifford D. Simak, award-winning technology fiction Grand grasp, bargains a wide ranging imaginative and prescient of the longer term that's either dystopian and hopeful in equivalent degree. In A background of Stars, he boldly monitors the guts, intelligence, and remarkable imaginitive powers that experience validated him as one of many all-time maximum authors of speculative fiction.
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I asked her where she heard them stories and she said her grandma had told them to her and that her grandma probably had heard them from her grandma. It do beat hell how old folks keep them stories going. You’d think that in time they’d just die out. ” He continued, “Would you folks be of a mind to break bread with me? It’s almost that time now and I’d be proud to have you. I have a sack of fish and a haunch of coon that still is pretty fresh “No, thank you, sir,” said Cushing. “We’re in something of a hurry.
No, I never hated them. Feared them, yes; I feared them. I kept out of their way. But there have been some I have not feared. The old hunter that I spent almost a year with. And the two of you. You saved me from the tree. He handed over the brain case. “Here,” he said, “have a look at it. ” “No, I never have,” said Meg. She sat, turning it over and over, with the firelight glinting redly on it. Finally she handed it hack and Rollo put it in the sack. The next morning, when Rollo had gone out to scout, she spoke to Cushing.
Axes came into play, to cut wood for their fires, and the sound of chopping echoed between the encroaching bluffs. Cushing backed away from the river’s edge and made his way to where the others waited. Andy was lying down, nodding, his head half resting in Meg’s lap. “He’s a lamb,” said Meg. “I got him to lie down. ” Cushing nodded. “They’re making camp just up the river. Forty or fifty of them. They’ll be gone by morning light. ” “I couldn’t say,” he told her. “They’re quieter than they should be.