Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Comet's Burial by Raymond Z. Gallun (ereader with android txt) 📖
- Author: Raymond Z. Gallun
Book online «Comet's Burial by Raymond Z. Gallun (ereader with android txt) 📖». Author Raymond Z. Gallun
It is not to be said that they didn't enjoy the advantages of fame. Brinker said more than once: "Forget your Frances, Cope. Problems are easy, these days."
The time came when Copeland growled in answer: "Sure—too easy. Having a lot of pals after the need is gone. No—I'm not criticizing. Most folks are swell. But I'd like to make friends and maybe find love a little more naturally. I thought I'd stay on the Moon; now I think I'll shove off for Mars. People are going there; whole towns are being built, I understand. And there's plenty of room for a lunar tramp, with a prison-record, to get lost ..."
Copeland chuckled at the end. His vagabond blood was singing. He was also pitching a come-on at Brinker, for he'd seen him with some letters while they were prisoners. Copeland had glimpsed the name and address of the writer: Dorothy Wells, the big nurse that Brinker had known at Tycho Station. She was in Marsport now.
"By gosh—I guess I'll go too, Cope!" Brinker rumbled.
Looking back, Brinker thought it sort of funny that they were pals. He laughed.
This etext was produced by Science Fiction Stories 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
Corrections made and noted items retained as printed:
page 62 original: Many hours later, and may miles farther
replacement:Many hours later, and many miles farther
page 69 no change: Embitted, there was no warmth in Copeland
retained: Embitted
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