Authors: Chad Oliver
The
list
could
be
extended
indefinitely,
but
to
little profit.
I
hope
that
these
few
examples
have
given
you some
idea
of
how
the
process
of
extrapolation
works in
this
type
of
science
fiction,
and
also
shown
you something
of
the
differences
between
fact
and
fiction.
This
is
a
work
of
fiction,
and
as
such
its
purpose
is to
entertain.
If
it
gives
you
a
few
hours
of
pleasure, or
even
keeps
you
up
all
night
to
find
out
what
happens,
it
has
accomplished
its
mission.
If
it
does
not entertain,
if
it
is
not
fun
to
read,
then
nothing
else
will make
it
worth
your
time.
If
you
do
have
a
good
time
reading
it,
and
I
hope you
do,
that
in
itself
is
something.
I
also
hope,
however,
that
you
can
pick
up
a
bit
extra
along
the
way—a
sort of
painless
bonus.
The
bonus
is
free
of
charge,
and
you can
ignore
it
if
you
wish.
For
those
who
are
interested,
though,
I
hope
that there
are
a
few
lessons
to
be
learned
from
this
story, lessons
in
tolerance
and
understanding
and
common humanity.
It
may
be
that
you
will
now
think
twice before
you
condemn
others
merely
because
they
live
a different
kind
of
life
than
your
own,
and
you
may
look back
upon
the
long
history
of
mankind
with
more appreciative
eyes.
It
comes
as
something
of
a
shock
occasionally
to
remember
that
it
has
only
been
some
one
hundred
and seventy-six
years
since
this
nation
got
underway
in 1776,
and
only
four
hundred
and
sixty
years
since Columbus
sailed
for
the
New
World.
Writing
itself
is only
some
five
thousand
years
old
at
best,
and
in
some parts
of
the
world,
such
as
North
America,
it
did
not exist
until
a
short
few
hundred
years
ago.
Man
himself has
been
around
a
lot
longer
than
that,
with
all
his dreams
and
his
never-ending
search
for
happiness.
If
we
are
ever
to
understand
the
last
part
of
the
story of
mankind,
we
must
understand
the
first
chapters
as well—not
to
mention
the
later
episodes
of
peoples about
whom
we
know
little
or
nothing.
There
is
a
lot of
history,
and
a
lot
of
fascination,
yet
hidden
from our
eyes
in
the
gray
mists
of
time.
The
long
black
shadows
of
the
New
Mexico
evening crept
across
the
valley
floor,
changing
the
land
into a
patchwork
pattern
of
darkness
and
light.
In
the west,
the
sun
floated
down
behind
the
pine-covered mountains
that
surrounded
the
valley,
its
last
rays
turning
the
gathering
storm
clouds
to
flame.
Two
men
walked
along
the
dusty
road
through
the valley,
their
steps
quickening
before
the
threat
of
rain. One
of
the
men
was
middle-aged,
with
prematurely white
hair,
though
still
trim
and
in
good
condition.
The other
was
younger,
a
tall,
athletic
boy
of
seventeen. Despite
the
difference
in
their
ages,
careful
eyes
could not
have
missed
the
close
relationship
between
the
two. There
was
a
similarity
of
expression
on
their
tanned faces,
particularly
in
their
intelligent,
perceptive brown
eyes,
that
told
more
eloquently
than
words
of long
association
and
friendship.
Ahead
of
them,
frisking
up
and
down
the
road,
a golden-brown
cocker
spaniel
puppy
charged
imaginary enemies
in
the
dust,
barking
shrilly
with
more
determination
than
success,
and
furiously
wagging
the stump
of
his
tail
in
great
self-satisfaction.