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Updated: June 18, 2025
What did her disconnection matter to the gods, who if they existed at all, despised life? A bowl of vegetable soup from her crockpot was on an end table and a tofu taco was on a plate that was on her lap. She was just about ready to put some food in her mouth when she used the remote control to turn on the television. For a few moments she was incredulous and just stared motionlessly aghast.
Anyhow, it's not your space-time, though some say it's your world." "You mean dimensional travel?" Dave asked. He'd seen something about that on a science-fiction television program. It made even time travel seem simple. At any event, however, this wasn't a hospital in any sane and normal section of Canada during his time, on Earth. "Something like that," she agreed doubtfully.
Every radiophone in the world must have echoed that sharp command; every television screen must have shown to a breathless audience the figure whose blond hair was awry, whose lean face was afire with protest, as Chet Bullard sprang forward with upraised hand. "You're wrong dead wrong! You're making a mistake. I can't accept that!" The master pilot's voice was raised in earnest protest.
He looked toward his reflection on the nearest part of the mirrored wall, but still steamed, it wasn't there. His thoughts crumbled like Graham crackers and spilled like pints of milk that Mrs. Ghrame, the kindergarten teacher, had given to each class member as they watched Winnie the Pooh and Piglet on television before being made to sleep on mats for a nap.
She looked out to the distant machines the medley of Mexican people folding dry clothes; putting wet ones in their carts, seated and bored; reading newspapers; watching the television that beamed over their heads or falling into the rhythms of dives that their clothes made in the dryers; and those purchasing the tokens, soap, and bleach that they would put into their washers.
They were thinking of the General Motors Reformatory outside of Detroit, where Company offenders passed their days in sullen silence, monotonously drawing microcircuits for pocket television sets. "However, that is out of my jurisdiction," Rath said. He turned his baleful gaze full upon Haskins. "You are certain that the customer never mentioned his name?" "No, sir.
We fear the Senator must have been watching the wrong television shows knives yet, ugh! possibly Jim Bowie, because there wasn't a ray gun nor a disintegrator in his whole bag of exhibits. All in all, it would appear that the project was pointed toward making the people Senator Crane-conscious rather than aiming their attention at the deadly heavens.
Theyve burned about two feet of it away already. Nothing left but some smoking stems. Quite a lot of smoking stems a regular compact mass of them but all the green stuff has been burned right off. Yes, folks, burned clean off; I wish we had television here so I could show you how that thick pad of stems lies there without a bit of life left in it. "Now theyre uncovering the sidewalk.
He made his money by speculation in telegraphs and telephones in the early days when they were more or less dreams. I should think a wireless system of television might at least interest him and furnish an excuse for getting in, although I am told his daughter discourages all tangible investment in the schemes that used to interest his active mind." "An excellent idea," exclaimed Kennedy.
Television audiences back on Earth viewed the new planet nearly as soon as did those in the ship. The time-lag was roughly three seconds for a distance of 203.7 light-years. The surface of the planet was wild and dramatic beyond belief. There were valleys where vegetation grew luxuriantly.
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