Gold: The Final Science Fiction Collection - Softcover

Asimov, Isaac

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0061054097 ISBN 13: 9780061054099

Publisher: HarperCollins, 1996

Synopsis

Gold is Isaac Asimov's first original collection of science fiction in over a decade. It is also his last science fiction collection, one containing all of his uncollected SF stories that have never before appeared in book form.

Gold is the final and crowning achievement of the fifty-five year career of science fiction's transcendent genius, the world-famous author who defined the field of SF for its practitioners, for its millions of readers, and for the world at large. The stories collected here for the first time range from the humorous to the profound, for Asimov was engaged until the end of his days in the work of redefining and expanding the boundaries of the literature he loved, and indeed, helped create. And there is more. For at the heart of this extraordinary compendium is the title story, "Gold," a moving and revealing drama about a writer who gambles everything on a chance at immortality-a gamble Asimov himself made. And won.

About this title

Gold is the final and crowning achievement of the fifty-five year career of science fiction's transcendent genius, the world-famous author who defined the field of SF for its practitioners, for its millions of readers, and for the world at large. The stories collected here for the first time range from the humorous to the profound, for Asimov was engaged until the end of his days in the work of redefining and expanding the boundaries of the literature he loved, and indeed, helped create. And there is more. For at the heart of this extraordinary compendium is the title story, "Gold," a moving and revealing drama about a writer who gambles everything on a chance at immortality-a gamble Asimov himself made. And won.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Excerpt

Gold

Jonas Willard looked from side to side and tapped hisbaton on the stand before him.

He said,"Understood now? This is just a practice scene,designed to find out if we know what we're doing. We'vegone through this enough times so that I expect a professional performance now. Get ready. All of you get ready."

He looked again from side to side. There was a person ateach of the voice-recorders, and there were three othersworking the image projection. A seventh was for the musicand an eighth for the all-important background. Otherswaited to one side for their turn.

Willard said, "All right now. Remember this old man hasspent his entire adult life as a tyrant. He is accustomed tohaving everyone jump at his slightest word, to having everyone tremble at his frown. That is all gone now but hedoesn't know it. He faces his daughter whom he thinks ofonly as a bent-headed obsequious girl who will do anythinghe says,and he cannot believe that it is an imperious queenthat he now faces. So let's have the King."

Lear appeared. Tall, white hair and beard, somewhat disheveled, eyes sharp and piercing.

Willard said, "Not bent. Not bent. He's eighty years oldbut he doesn't think of himself as old. Not now. Straight. Every inch a king." The image was adjusted. "That's right. And the voice has to be strong. No quavering. Not now. Right?"

"Right, chief," said the Lear voice-recorder, nodding.

"All right. The Queen."

And there she was, almost as tall as Lear, standingstraight and rigid as a statue, her draped clothing in finearray, nothing out of place. Her beauty was as cold and unforgiving as ice.

"And the Fool."

A little fellow, thin and fragile, like a frightened teenagerbut with a face too old for a teenager and with a sharp lookin eyes that seemed so large that they threatened to devourhis face.

"Good," said Willard. "Be ready for Albany. He comes inpretty soon. Begin the scene." He tapped the podium again,took a quick glance at the marked-up play before him andsaid, "Lear!" and his baton pointed to the Lear voice-recorder, moving gently to mark the speech cadence that hewanted created.

Lear says, "How now, daughter? What makes that frontlet on? Methinks you are too much o'late i'th'frown."

The Fool's thin voice, fifelike, piping, interrupts, "Thou wast a pretty fellow when thou hadst no need to care for herfrowning -"

Goneril, the Queen, turns slowly to face the Clown as hespeaks, her eyes turning momentarily nto balls of luridlight - doing it so momentarily that those watching caughtthe impression rather than viewed the fact. The Fool completes his speech in gathering fright and backs his way behind Lear n a blind search for protection against thesearing glance.

Goneril proceeds to tell Lear the facts of life and there isthe faint crackling of thin ice as she speaks, while the musicplays in soft discords, barely heard.

Nor are Goneril's demands so out of line, for she wants anorderly court and there couldn't be one as long as Lear stillthought of himself as tyrant. But Lear is in no mood to recognize reason. He breaks into a passion and begins railing.

Albany enters. He is Goneril's consort - round-faced, innocent, eyes looking about n wonder. What is happening?He is completely drowned out by his dominating wife andby his raging father-in-law. It is at this point that Learbreaks nto one of the great piercing denunciations in all ofliterature. He is overreacting. Goneril has not as yet doneanything to deserve this,but Lear knows no restraint. Hesays:

"Hear,Nature, hear! dear goddess, hear!
Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend
To make this creature fruitful.
Into her womb convey sterility;
Dry up in her the organs of increase;
And from her derogate body never spring
A babe to honour her! If she must teem,
Create her child of spleen, that it may live
And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her.
Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth,
With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks,
Turn all her mother's pains and benefits
To laughter and contempt, that she may feel
How sharper than a serpent's tooth,it is
To have a thankless child!"

The voice-recorder strengthened Lear's voice for thisspeech, gave it a distant hiss, his body became taller and somehow less substantial as though it had been convertedinto a vengeful Fury.

As for Goneril, she remained untouched throughout,never flinching, never receding, but her beautiful face, without any change that could be described, seemed to accumulate evil so that by the end of Lear's curse, she had the appearance of an archangel still, but an archangel ruined. All possible pity had been wiped out of the countenance,leaving behind only a devil's dangerous magnificence.

The Fool remained behind Lear throughout, shuddering. Albany was the very epitome of confusion, asking useless questions, seeming to want to step between the twoantagonists and clearly afraid to do so.

Willard tapped his baton and said, "All right. It's beenrecorded and I want you all to watch the scene." He liftedhis baton high and the synthesizer at the rear of the setbegan what could only be called the instant replay.

It was watched in silence, and Willard said, "It was good, but I think you'll grant it was not good enough. I'm going to ask you all to listen to me, so that I can explain what we're trying to do. Computerized theater is not new, as you all know ...

Continues...

Excerpted from Goldby Isaac Asimov Copyright © 1996 by Isaac Asimov. Excerpted by permission.
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Copyright © 1996 Isaac Asimov
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Edition details

• Publisher: HarperCollins
• Publication date: 1996
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 0061054097
• ISBN 13: 9780061054099
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback