The Complete Short Stories: The 1960s
Following on from the 1950s collection, this is the second collection of Brian Aldiss’ short stories, taken from the 1960s. A must-have for collectors. Part one of four.This collection gathers together, for the very first time, Brian Aldiss’ complete catalogue of short stories from the 1960s, in four parts.Taken from diverse and often rare sources, the works in this collection chart the blossoming career of one of Britain’s most beloved authors. From stories of high-tech hive minds hunting wild robots, to the story of Mr Meacher, who is given an injection which helps him gain a dimension, this book proves once again that Aldiss’ gifted prose and unparalleled imagination never fail to challenge and delight.The four books of the 1960s short story collection are must-have volumes for all Aldiss fans, and an excellent introduction to the work of a true master.
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HarperVoyager an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperVoyager 2015 Stories from this collection have previously appeared in the following publications: Science Fantasy (1960), Starswarm, Intangibles Inc. And Other Stories, Science Fiction Adventures, New Worlds Science Fiction, Amazing Stories (1961 & 1962), The Saliva Tree and Other Strange Growths, Daily Express Science Annual (1962).
Copyright © Brian Aldiss 2015
Cover illustration © Shutterstock.com Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015
Brian Aldiss asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780007482290
Ebook Edition © September 2015 ISBN: 9780007482290 Version: 2017-10-27
Contents
Copyright
Introduction
1 Faceless Card
2 Neanderthal Planet
3 Old Hundredth
4 Original Sinner
5 Sector Grey
6 Stage-Struck!
7 Under an English Heaven
8 Henâs Eyes
9 Sector Azure
10 A Pleasure Shared
11 Basis for Negotiation
12 Conversation Piece
13 Danger: Religion!
14 The Green Leaves of Space
15 Sector Green
16 Sector Vermilion
17 Tyrantsâ Territory
About the Author
About the Publisher
DARKNESS IN THE DORMITORY
Much of my training in the telling of short stories comes from uncomfortable, even painful, circumstances.
In my tender years, my parents despatched me to a large public school in the county of Suffolk. I found that many of the arrangements in that place of incarceration had been devised to make our juvenile lives as uncomfortable as possible.
Our dormitory, for instance, was as large and echoing as it could be. It contained about thirty iron beds. A strict rule ordered:
NO TALKING AFTER LIGHTS OUT.
However, past boys had devised a form of entertainment for those dark hours. Boys could compete in the telling of stories, one by one, while the other twenty-nine listened and judged. I went in for this competition, to find myself competing against, for instance, such boys as a friend, B.B. Gingell. Gingell was a stylish storyteller, able to relate with complete assurance the quiet events in the life of a water vole.
How should I put this? My competing tales in that dark dorm were of great and desperate events, of terrible creatures emerging armed from the Sargasso Sea, of invisible white psychopaths transforming African tribes into robots, of wicked dictators plunging the world into darkness ⦠Such was the tortured nature of my audience, huddled there in pokey beds, that my tales drove the innocuous water vole into oblivion. I became the dormitoryâs undisputed top storyteller.
Moreover, I found myself to be skilled in sadism. When something really alarming in my story was about to happen, I would stop. âI shall have to tell you tomorrow what happens next.â
Frustrated cries arose from a dozen mattresses. âGo on, you bastard! Tell us now!â
âSorry, I have not yet made up my mind what happens next.â
Oh dear, the power of the professionals â¦
But, there was a fly in this ointment. Our hated housemaster had a spyhole set in the landing outside the dormitory. Howells was his name. Sticking his ear to the hole, he could detect a juvenile voice breaking the enforced silence within.
Flinging open the door, in he stormed! On went the lights, swish went the cane in his fist.
âWho was talking?â he demanded.
My hand went up. I was summoned to the middle of the room. And there, in my flimsy pyjamas, I was given six of the best on my behind. (Later, everyone wanted to see my scars).
Howells slammed in. The trick was not to make a sound. Endure! â This is what life is going to be about. Then return with dignity to your bed. Without looking back.
So what can Howells do next? Well ⦠actually nothing. So off he clears. Putting out the lights and slamming the door behind him.
And I? You must have guessed. I am the Champion Storyteller of the Junior Dorm.
As soon as Paul Stoneward saw Nigel Alexander come into Darwinâs Dive, the killing instinct blossomed in him like a wonderful flower. I can just imagine how it was inside Paul: every little cell waking, growing teeth, turning into sharks yawning.
