SF isn’t a genre; SF is the matrix in which genres are embedded, and because the SF field is never going in any one direction at any one time, there is hardly a way to cut it off.
The priest splayed his digits wide. “Herdmaster, I learn. Later I will speak.” “You do not seem pleased.” There was no answer. “A place of puzzles,” Pastempeh-keph said. “They surrender and have not surrendered. Their tapes show rogues acting in collusion. They live neither in herds nor alone. What are they?” “What do they believe themselves to be?” Fistarteh-thuktun asked. “Perhaps that is more important.
I need exercise and solitude. This time of confinement has threatened my sanity!
Why hadn’t they built a lot of little Ringworlds instead?
Those who will give up essential liberty to secure a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety. – Benjamin Franklin.
Did I just hear something tear?” General Gillespie asked. “It sounded like the Constitution.” Jenny caught the look on Max’s face. Interesting. He looked disgusted. A liberal general? We’re fighting snouts here!
Her eyes glowed. She spoke as if confiding a secret. “Have you noticed the moonlight?
I’ll have to get over this sooner or later, Louis thought. Why not now? A friend had taught him this cantrip, this bit of magic for recovering from shock or grief. Sometimes it worked.
From afar he saw what Speaker was doing, and he called “Hold it! That’s not necessary.” Speaker had drawn the modified digging tool. He said, “Does it have to be necessary?
Louis’s excitement was growing unbearable. Was this really what he had needed all along? Not the droud and wire, but the risk of his life to prove its value! Louis adjusted his flying belt and dropped over the railing.
Then you can go home to the puppeteer worlds and tell them that mucking with human breeding habits is a chancy business. Tell them that enough Teela Browns could make a hash of all the laws of probability. Even basic physics is nothing more than probability at the atomic level. Tell them the universe is too complicated a toy for a sensibly cautious being to play with.
Louis Wu hardly noticed this triumph of practicality over honor, intelligence over xenophobia.
Because she was designed human, before Nessus made her something else. Tanj him! Do you see what he did? He created god in his own image, his own idealized image, and he got Teela Brown. “She’s just what any puppeteer would give his soul to be. She can’t be injured. She can’t even be uncomfortable, unless it’s for her own benefit.
Skill. She must know more anatomy than most professors. A doctorate in Prostitution? There was more to the oldest profession than met the eye. Louis Wu could recognize expertise in any field. This woman had it.
She risks her own life, Louis thought, then blames me for not getting angry. An attention-getting device? How long has she been doing it? Anyone else would die young, with a habit like that!
It does not disturb me to play a god,” he said. “It disturbs me to play a god badly.
He understood when the kzin kitten looked up at its parent and asked, “Is it good to eat?” The adult’s eyes met Louis’s eyes. Louis let his smile widen to show the teeth. The adult said, “No.” In the confidence of four Man-Kzin wars plus some “incidents” – all centuries in the past, but all won by men – Louis grinned and nodded. You tell him, Daddy! Its safer to eat white arsenic than human meat!
Halrloprillalar’s tale of the bacterium that eats superconductor is in our records,” the Hindmost said.
You will find superconducting wire and fabric stored aboard the lander. It is not the same superconductor the Ringworld used. The bacterium will not touch it. I thought we might need trade goods.
Rick laughed. “Yeah. Everybody’s gonna start painting their borders in neon orange a mile wide. Then all the college kids will scream about damage to the environment.
Nothing that works is silly.