By Harlan Ellison
3rd printing (1976) paperback. it is a 1971 choice of tales from this winner of extra awards for imaginitive literature than the other residing writer - together with a number of Hugos, Nebulas and Edgars. CONTENTS: advent: The music of the Soul (1970); i've got No Mouth, and that i needs to Scream (1967); The Discarded (1959); Deeper Than the Darkness (1957); Blind Lightning (1956); the entire Sounds of worry (1962); The Silver hall (1956); "Repent, Harlequin!" stated the Ticktockman (1965); vibrant Eyes (1965); Are You Listening? (1958); attempt a lifeless Knife (1968); In Lonely Lands (1959); Eyes of dirt (1959); not anything for My midday Meal (1958); O Ye of Little religion (1968); The Time of the attention (1959); existence Hutch (1956); The final Day of a great lady (1958); evening Vigil (1957); Lonelyache (1964); Pennies, Off a useless Man's Eyes (1969).
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Extra info for Alone Against Tomorrow: Stories of Alienation in Speculative Fiction
They were no longer individuals; they were Bureau men, studiedly, exactly, precisely alike in every detail. “This is the one,” he said. “Come on, Alf,” the Mindee named Ralph said. ” The authority in his voice no more served to move Gunnderson than their initial appearance had. He sat as he was. The two men looked at one another. What’s the matter with him? the second one flashed. If you had what he’s got-you’d be a bit buggy yourself, the first one replied. They hoisted the prisoner under his arms, lifted him unresisting, off the bunk.
The pitmen stopped their work as he came, silent but for the hum of his song and the beat of his boots on the blacktop. They watched as he came across the field. He had been wandering the star-paths for many years now. He had appeared, and that was all; he was. They knew him as certainly as they knew themselves. They turned and he was like a pillar, set dark against the light and shadow of the field. He paced slowly, and they stopped the hoses feeding the radioactive food to the ships, and the torches with which they flayed the metal skins; and they listened.
The cry roared through the companionways, bounced down the halls and against the metal hun of the invership, sprayed from the speakers, and deafened the men asleep beside their squawk-boxes. The ship ploughed through a maze of colors whose names were unknown, skiiiiittered in a nameless direction, and popped out, shuddering. There it was. The sun of Delgart. Omalo. Big. And golden. With planets set about it like boulders on the edge of the sea. The sea that was space, and from which this ship had come.