Harlan Ellison With Others Partners in Wonder

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Polchiklookedback throughthe doorway.The robot stoodalone,lookings
omehowhelpless.
Waitingforrust.Polchikthoughtofkids,allk indsofkids,andwhenhewasak id.It must
be hell,he thought,being a robot. Getting turned off
whentheydon tneedyounomore.
Thenherealizedhecouldstillhearthatfaint electricalbuzzing.Thek indaw
atchmakes.Hec ast aquic kglanceattheFBImanbut,trailingci garette smoke,he
wasalreadymovingtoward hisc ar, parkedd
irectlyinfrontoftheprecincthouse.Polchikcouldn ttellifhewaswearingawatchornot.
Hefollowedthegovernmentman. ThetroublewithBrillo, theFBImansaid, isthatReardon
sfacilitiesweretoo limited. ButI msu rethereareotheragenciesworking on it.
They ll lickit oneday. Hesnappedthecigaretteint othegutter.
Yeah,sure, Polchiksaid.TheFBI man unlockedthecardoo randpul
ledit.Itdidn topen.
Damnit! hesaid. Governmentpoolissue.Damneddooralwayssticks. Bunchinghismuscle
s,he suddenlyw renchedatitwithenoughforcetopopitopen.Polchikst ared.Metalh
adripped.
Youtakec areofy ourself now,y hear? theFBImansaid,gettingintoth
ecar.Heflippedupthevisorw ithitsOFFICIALGOVERNMENT BUSINESScardtackedtoit,
andslidbehindthe steeringwheel.
Thecarse ttledheavily oni
tssprings,asthoughatonofleadhadjustbeendumpedonthefront
seat.Heslammedthedoor.Itwasbadlysprung.
Toobadwecouldn t usehim, theFBImans aid,staringout ofthecaratBrillo,
illuminatedth roughtheprecincthousedoorway. But...too crude.
Yeah,sure,I lltakecareofm yself, Polchik replied, oneexchangetoolate.
Hefelthismouth hangingopen.
TheFBImangrinned,sta rtedthecar,andpulledaway.Polchikst oodinthestreet,fora
while.
Sometimeshestareddowntheearlymo rningstreeti nthedirectiontheFBImanhadtaken.
Sometimeshestaredatthemetalcopimmobilein themusterr oom.
Andevenasthesoundsofthecity snewdayrosearoundhim,hewasnotatallcertainhedidnot
stillhearthesoundofane lectricwatch.Getting louder.
Robert BlochandH arlanEllison
A TOY FOR JULIETTE THE PROWLER IN THE CITY AT THE EDGE OF THEWO RLD
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INTRODUCTION
Whatfollowsis, inthepurestsense,theend resultof literary
feedback.Recentlythestoryed itorofaprimetimete levisionseries,pressedfo rasc
ripttoshoot,satdownandwroteonehimselfratherthanwait forthevagar
iesofafree-lancescenarist sscheduleanddalliance.Whenhehadcompletedthescript,wh
ichwast o gobeforethe camerasinamatterofd ays,he sent itasam atter of
formtothelegaldepartmentof thestudio.Fortheclearanceofnames,etc.Late rth atday
thelegaldep artment calledhim ina frenzy.Almostscene-f
or-sceneandword-for-word(includingthetitle),thenon-s fstoryed
itorhadcopiedawell-knownsc iencefictionsho rtst ory. Whenitw aspointedout toh
im, thestoryeditorb lanchedandrecalled
hehadindeedreadthatstory,somefifteenyearsbefore.Hurriedly, thestory rights
werepurchasedfromthe well-knownfantasy writerwho
hadoriginallyconceivedtheidea.I hastento addthatI accept theveracityofthestor
yeditorwhenhes wearshehadnoconsciousknow ledgeofimitatingthesto ry.Ibelievehim
becausethissortofunconsciousplagiarism iscommonplacein theworldofthewriter.I
tis inevitablethat much of themassof readingawriterdoeswillstickw ithhim
somehow, in vagueconcepts,snatchesof scenes ,sn
ippetsofcharacterization,anditwillturnuplater, in thewriter sownw
ork;altered,transmogr ified,bu tst illad irectresultof anotherwrite
r swork.Itisbynome ans plagiarism. Itispartof theanswe
rtothequestionaskedbyidiotsofauthors atcocktailparties : Whered
oyougetyourideas?
Poul Andersondroppedmeanoteseveral
yearsagoexplainingthathehadjustwrittenastoryhewasabouttosend outt o market
whenherealizeditparalleledthethemeofastoryofminehehadreadata
writers conferencewehadbothattended,justamontho rsobefore
.Headdedthathisstorywa sonlyvaguelysi milartomine, buthe wantedtoap
prisemeoftheresemblancesotherewouldbenoquestion
later.Itwasarhetoricalletter:I marrogant,butnotarrogantenoughtothinkP oul
Anderson needs toc ribf romme.Similarly, atthe1966WorldScienceFiction
Convention in Cleveland,th ewel l-known German
fanTomSchluckandIwereintroduced.(Tomhadbeenbr oughtover asFanG uest ofHonor,an
exchangetraditioninfando
mperpetuatedbytheTransAtlanticFanFund.)Thefirstthinghedidafterweshook
handswastohandmeaGermansciencefictionpaperback.Ihadsomedifficultyunderstanding
whyh ehad givenmethegift.Tomopenedthebook--acollectionofstoriespseudonymously
writtenbyto pGermansf fan/proW alterErnsting. Theflylea fsaid: T oH arlan
Ellisonwiththanksandcompliments. Is
tilldidn tunderstand.ThenTomturnedtothefirststory,whichw astitled Die
Sonnenbombe. Unde r thetitleitsaid:
(NacheinerIdee vonHarlanEllison).Iwr inkledmyb row. Istilldidn t understand.
I recognizedmyown name, whichlooksthesameinall languagessaveRussian,Ch inese,
Hebrewo rS anskrit,butId on t read German,and I m afraid I stood therel
ikeaclot.Tomexplainedthatthebasic idea ofast oryI hadwritten in
1957-- RunfortheStars --hadinspiredErnstingtow rite DieSonnenbombe. Itwasthel
iteraryfeedback, halfwayaroundtheworld.Iwasdeeplyt ouched,
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andevenmore,itwasafeeling ofjustification.E verywritersavethemeanesthac
khopeshiswordswillliveafterhegoesdownthehole,thathisthoughtswillinfluencepeopl
e. Itisn t theprimarypurposeof
thewriting,ofcourse,butit sthesortofsecretwishthat
parallelstheCommonManhavingbab
ies,sohisnamedoesn tdiewithhim.Andhere,inmyhands ,wasthe v
isibleproofthatsomethingm ymindh
adconjureduphadreachedoutandensnaredanotherman simagination. It wasobviously [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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