Galaxy's Edge Magazine: Issue 3, July 2013 by Mike Resnick [Editor]
Authors: Mike Resnick [Editor]
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Epoch
Age of Death and Decline: A chorus of blood-curdling screams pierced the air as the undead body ripped the flesh from a nearby victim. Shots rang out, boring still more holes into the thing, but it kept moving. The poison spread through each victim it sank its corrupt teeth into, their blood dripping from its jaws. Each victim arose, dead yet animated. They had become evil, heartless things with a fierce, everlasting lust for the blood of their enemy. The Undead Apocalypse had begun.
The virus tore through the people like wildfire, as the Undead army spread across the world. The sound of the Undead filled all ears with the horrifying sound of the Xenophobic Yelling Zombies (AKA Unghhhhh ). They blasted their way through army after army, and in less than a year, the whole World of All Worlds had become a pulsing, infested super-planet of the Undead. None were left truly alive, and those few who fled into space soon died of thirst and hunger, as nothing else existed, not a single other world, except the crumbling world they had left behind.
Years passed, and the Undead began to die off as there was no more food to devour, and some began to eat their own kind. In less than a decade, the last remaining species, the Undead, was eliminated from this universe.
The End of Time: Without the people who had been holding it back, this universe ended as it had begun. The World of All Worlds collapsed in upon itself, imploding with a great bang. It became a singularity once more, ending what had once been a great universe—a memorable universe, one that lived for a healthy 14.059 billion years.
And there it remains in some cosmic limbo, its wonder and amazement, and all the secrets it held, waiting to be released once more.
This is how this universe ends…
***
…and another begins.
(Thanks to Jonah Simpson for assistance in the creation of the original concept)
Original (First) Publication
Copyright © 2013 by Muxing Zhao
********************************************
Jack Williamson was one of the giants of the field. He broke into print in 1928, and appeared in nine different decades, winning a Hugo in 2001. “With Folded Hands” has been considered a classic since its first appearance.
--------------
WITH FOLDED HANDS
by Jack Williamson
Underhill was walking home from the office, because his wife had the car, the afternoon he met the new mechanicals. His feet were following his usual diagonal path across a weedy vacant block—his wife usually had the car—and his preoccupied mind was rejecting various impossible ways to meet his notes at the Two Rivers bank, when a new wall stopped him.
The wall wasn’t any common brick or stone, but something sleek and bright and strange. Underhill stared up at a long new building. He felt vaguely annoyed and surprised at this glittering obstruction—it certainly hadn’t been here last week.
Then he saw the thing in the window.
The window itself wasn’t any ordinary glass. The wide, dustless panel was completely transparent, so that only the glowing letters fastened to it showed that it was there at all. The letters made a severe, modernistic sign:
***
Two Rivers Agency
HUMANOID INSTITUTE
The Perfect Mechanicals
“To Serve and Obey,
And Guard Men from Harm.”
***
His dim annoyance sharpened, because Underhill was in the mechanicals business himself. Times were already hard enough, and mechanicals were a drug on the market. Androids, mechanoids, electronoids, automatoids, and ordinary robots. Unfortunately, few of them did all the salesmen promised, and the Two Rivers market was already sadly oversaturated.
Underhill sold androids—when he could. His next consignment was due tomorrow, and he didn’t quite know how to meet the bill.
Frowning, he paused to stare at the thing behind that invisible window. He had never seen a humanoid. Like any mechanical not at work, it stood absolutely motionless. Smaller and
Age of Death and Decline: A chorus of blood-curdling screams pierced the air as the undead body ripped the flesh from a nearby victim. Shots rang out, boring still more holes into the thing, but it kept moving. The poison spread through each victim it sank its corrupt teeth into, their blood dripping from its jaws. Each victim arose, dead yet animated. They had become evil, heartless things with a fierce, everlasting lust for the blood of their enemy. The Undead Apocalypse had begun.
The virus tore through the people like wildfire, as the Undead army spread across the world. The sound of the Undead filled all ears with the horrifying sound of the Xenophobic Yelling Zombies (AKA Unghhhhh ). They blasted their way through army after army, and in less than a year, the whole World of All Worlds had become a pulsing, infested super-planet of the Undead. None were left truly alive, and those few who fled into space soon died of thirst and hunger, as nothing else existed, not a single other world, except the crumbling world they had left behind.
Years passed, and the Undead began to die off as there was no more food to devour, and some began to eat their own kind. In less than a decade, the last remaining species, the Undead, was eliminated from this universe.
The End of Time: Without the people who had been holding it back, this universe ended as it had begun. The World of All Worlds collapsed in upon itself, imploding with a great bang. It became a singularity once more, ending what had once been a great universe—a memorable universe, one that lived for a healthy 14.059 billion years.
And there it remains in some cosmic limbo, its wonder and amazement, and all the secrets it held, waiting to be released once more.
This is how this universe ends…
***
…and another begins.
(Thanks to Jonah Simpson for assistance in the creation of the original concept)
Original (First) Publication
Copyright © 2013 by Muxing Zhao
********************************************
Jack Williamson was one of the giants of the field. He broke into print in 1928, and appeared in nine different decades, winning a Hugo in 2001. “With Folded Hands” has been considered a classic since its first appearance.
--------------
WITH FOLDED HANDS
by Jack Williamson
Underhill was walking home from the office, because his wife had the car, the afternoon he met the new mechanicals. His feet were following his usual diagonal path across a weedy vacant block—his wife usually had the car—and his preoccupied mind was rejecting various impossible ways to meet his notes at the Two Rivers bank, when a new wall stopped him.
The wall wasn’t any common brick or stone, but something sleek and bright and strange. Underhill stared up at a long new building. He felt vaguely annoyed and surprised at this glittering obstruction—it certainly hadn’t been here last week.
Then he saw the thing in the window.
The window itself wasn’t any ordinary glass. The wide, dustless panel was completely transparent, so that only the glowing letters fastened to it showed that it was there at all. The letters made a severe, modernistic sign:
***
Two Rivers Agency
HUMANOID INSTITUTE
The Perfect Mechanicals
“To Serve and Obey,
And Guard Men from Harm.”
***
His dim annoyance sharpened, because Underhill was in the mechanicals business himself. Times were already hard enough, and mechanicals were a drug on the market. Androids, mechanoids, electronoids, automatoids, and ordinary robots. Unfortunately, few of them did all the salesmen promised, and the Two Rivers market was already sadly oversaturated.
Underhill sold androids—when he could. His next consignment was due tomorrow, and he didn’t quite know how to meet the bill.
Frowning, he paused to stare at the thing behind that invisible window. He had never seen a humanoid. Like any mechanical not at work, it stood absolutely motionless. Smaller and
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