Short Fiction by Mack Reynolds (ready to read books .TXT) π

Description
Dallas McCord βMackβ Reynolds was an American science fiction writer who authored almost two hundred short stories and novellas, was a staple in all the major science fiction and fantasy magazines and published dozens of science fiction novels. He began his writing career in the late 1940s. His fiction focused on exploring and challenging both the socioeconomic themes of the day and the implications of the Cold War that raged throughout his career. A thoughtful writer of speculative fiction, many of Mack Reynoldsβ predictions have come to pass, including the credit-card economy, remote warfare and a worldwide computer network. His thoughts about the outcomes of both the Soviet and western political and economic systems are still highly relevant.
This collection gathers stories that were published in Analog, Astounding Science Fiction, Amazing Stories and others. Ordered by date of first publication, they range from spy adventures to the ultimate expression of corporate warfare and from a very short 1000-word story to full-blown novellas.
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- Author: Mack Reynolds
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He considered for a moment and then decided against informing her that Muslims, particularly in this part of the world, were little used to seeing semi-nude women strolling about. Heβd leave the job of explanation to Pierre, as a fellow Frenchman and the oldest man present to boot.
βBonjour,β she said. βWhat a lovely day. I have been strolling about your little oasis. But you have made it a garden!β
βThanks,β Johnny said. βWeβve got to have something to do after working hours. Entertainment is on the scarce side. But itβs more than a garden. Weβve been experimenting to see just what trees will take to this countryβ βgiven water and care through the early years. Besides, we use it as a showplace.β
βShowplace?β
βFor skeptical politicians who come through,β Johnny said, seating her in a chair near his desk. βWe give them the idea that the whole Sahara could eventually be like this square mile or so at Bidon Cinq. Palm trees, fruit trees, pines, shade trees. The works.β
βAnd could it?β
Johnny grinned sourly. βWell, not exactly. Not all in one spot, at least. Youβve got to remember, the Sahara covers an area of some three and a half million square miles. In that area you find almost everything.β
βEverything except water, eh?β She was tapping a cigarette on a polish-reddened thumbnail. As he lit it for her, Johnny McCord realized that he hadnβt seen fingernail polish for a year. He decided it was too long.
βEven water, in some parts,β he said. βThereβs more water than most people realize. For instance, the Niger, which runs right through a considerable part of the Sahara, is the eleventh largest river in the world. But until our commission went to work on it, it dumped itself into the Gulf of Guinea, unused.β
βThe Niger is a long way from here,β she said through her smoke.
He nodded. βFor that matter, though, we have a certain amount of rain, particularly in the highland regions of the central massif. In the past, with no watershed at all, it ran off, buried itself in the sands, or evaporated.β
βMr. McCord,β she said, βyou are amazingly optimistic. Formerly, I must admit I had little knowledge of the Sahara Reforestation Commission. And I deliberately avoided studying up on the subject after receiving this assignment, because I wanted first impression to be received on the spot. However, Iβve just driven across the Sahara. My impression is that your Commission is one greatβ βComment dit-on?β βboondoggling project, a super-W.P.A. into which to plow your American resources and manpower. It is a fake, a delusion. This part of the world has never been anything but wasteland, and never will be.β
Johnny McCord heard her out without change in expression.
Heβd been through this before. In fact, almost every time a junketing congressman came through. There was danger in the viewpoint, of course. If the fantastic sums of money which were being spent were cut off, such pessimistic views would become automatically correct.
He took the paperweight from a stack of the correspondence on his desk and handed it to her.
She looked at it and scowledβ βvery prettily, but still a scowl. βWhat is this? Itβs a beautiful piece of stone.β
βI picked it up myself,β Johnny said. βNear Reggan. Itβs a chunk of petrified wood, Miss Desage. From a tree that must have originally had a diameter of some ten feet. Not quite a redwood, of course, but big.β
βYes,β she said, turning it over in her hand. βI can see this part, which must have once been bark. But why do you show it to me?β
βThe Sahara was once a semitropical, moist area, highly wooded. It can become so again.β
She put the piece of fossil back on his desk. βHow long ago?β she said bluntly.
βA very long time ago, admittedly. During the last Ice Age and immediately afterwards. But, given manβs direction, it can be done again. And it must be.β
She raised pencilled eyebrows at him. βMust be?β
Johnny McCord shifted in his chair. βYou must be aware of the worldβs population explosion, Miss Desage. The human race canβt allow three and a half million square miles of land to be valueless.β He grunted in deprecation. βAnd at the rate it was going, it would have been four million before long.β
She didnβt understand.
Johnny spelled it out for her. βA desert can be man-made. Have you ever been in the Middle East?β At her nod, he went on. βVisitors there usually wonder how in the world the ancient Jews could ever have thought of that area as a land of milk and honey. On the face of it, itβs nothing but badlands. What was once the Fertile Crescent now looks like Arizona.β
HΓ©lΓ¨ne Desage was frowning at him. βAnd you suggest man did thisβ βnot nature?β
βThe goat did it. The goat, and the use of charcoal as fuel. Along with ignorance of soil erosion and the destruction of the wonderful watershed based on the Cedars of Lebanon. Same thing applies to large areas of Libya and Tunisia, and to Morocco and Spain. Those countries used to be some of the richest agricultural areas of the Roman Empire. But you canβt graze goats, probably the most destructive animal domesticated, and you canβt depend on charcoal for fuel, unless you want to create desert.β
βThose things happened a long time ago.β
Johnny snorted. βWhen we first began operations, the Sahara was going south at the rate of two miles a year. Goats prefer twigs and bark even to grass. They strip a country.β
βWell,β the reporter said, shrugging shapely shoulders, βat any rate, the task is one of such magnitude as to be fantastic. Yesterday, I drove for nearly eight hours without seeing even a clump of cactus.β
βThe route you traveled is comparatively untouched by our efforts, thus far,β Johnny nodded agreeably. βHowever, weβre slowly coming down from Algeria, up from the Niger, and, using the new chemical methods of freshening sea water, east from Mauretania.β
He came to his feet and pointed out spots on
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