"Edmond Hamilton - Alien Earth" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Edmond)

ALIEN EARTH
by Edmond Hamilton (1904-1977)
Thrilling Wonder Stories, April


Isaac mentions that Edmond Hamilton was known as the
“Universe-saver,” but he was also known to “wreck” a few in his day.
Indeed, he was (and is, thank goodness) so well known for his space
opera that his fine work in other areas of science fiction is not nearly as
famous as it ought to be.

“Alien Earth” is an excellent example of this relative obscurity, a
wonderful, moody story that is science fiction at its finest. Amazingly, it
has only been reprinted twice—in The Best of Edmond Hamilton (1977)
and in the anthology Alien Earth and Other Stories (1969). It is a pleasure
to reprint it again.—M.H.G.

(There are “great dyings” in the course of biological evolution,
periods when in a comparatively short interval of time, a large fraction of
the species of living things on Earth die. The most recent example was
the period at the end of the Cretaceous, 65,000,000 years ago.

I have often thought there are also “great dyings” in the history of
science fiction, periods when large percentages of the established
science fiction writers stopped appearing. The most dramatic example
came in 1938, when John Campbell became editor of Astounding and
introduced an entirely new stable of writers, replacing the old.

Some old-timers survived, of course (even as some species
always survived the biological “great dyings”). To me, one of the most
remarkable survivors was Edmond Hamilton. He was one of the great
stars of the pre-Campbell era, so grandiose in his plots that he was
known as the “Universe-saver.” And yet he was able to narrow his focus
and survive, whereas many others who seemed to require a smaller
re-adaptation could not do so. In “Alien Earth” there is no Universe being
saved; there is only a close look at the world of plants.—I.A.)

****

CHAPTER 1
 SLOWED-DOWN LIFE

The dead man was standing in a little moonlit clearing in the jungle when
Farris found him.

He was a small swart man in white cotton, a typical Laos tribesman of
this Indo-China hinterland. He stood without support, eyes open, staring
unwinkingly ahead, one foot slightly raised. And he was not breathing.

“But he can’t be dead!” Farris exclaimed. “Dead men don’t stand