Last and First Men by Olaf Stapledon, William Olaf Stapledon

By Olaf Stapledon, William Olaf Stapledon

Essentially the most outstanding, innovative and impressive novels of the century: a heritage of the evolution of humankind over the following 2 billion years. between all technological know-how fiction writers Olaf Stapledon stands on my own for the sheer scope and ambition of his paintings. First released in 1930, final and primary males is stuffed with pioneering speculations approximately evolution, terraforming, genetic engineering and plenty of different topics.

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From just outside, he heard a creak from the patio. ” He opened the door. No moon out yet. The porch was unusually dark. He couldn't see a thing. What had made that sound? Raccoons and coyotes and skunks were regulars here. Lindsey didn't move, just listened. He clicked on the flashlight. The beam played over the long, wrap-around porch and across waist high grass that sprouted through the decking. Grass? His sister wasn't fastidious, but she kept her home relatively neat both inside and out, including keeping weeds under control.

There were no snakes, just the blades of grass, moving of their own volition, pricking with deliberate intention. He could feel each of the itchy, sharp stabs of the grass creatures until finally the pain stopped. They leaned in close, leafy limbs brushing and grabbing at him. Whatever they were doing didn't make much sense. When his belt was undone and his pants were pulled down, it made less sense. His paralysis was total. * * * The Captain addressed the hundred members of his Clyptus crew, two- to three-foot-tall spindles of vegetable matter, all pinky-thin as was their custom.

Asked a blue sphere with a big eye and many, many smaller ones. ” “It means the entirety of outcomes for the humans is not known,” the Grey said. ” “Bad luck,” Oliop said. The Trin chaircreature growled at him. “Silence, technician,” she said. “'Luck' is just perceived probability,” the Grey said. “What we are seeing is a fundamental error in judgment of human potential, a gross miscalculation. ” The Grey coughed. It released a stench like burnt popcorn and shook its head. “No,” the Grey said.

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