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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βVoss contends that itβs getting progressively worse. That weβre sinking into an equivalent of a ritual-taboo, tribal social-like situation. This is the system the low-level human being wants, yearns for and seeks. A situation in which no oneβs judgment is of any use. Then his lack of judgment is no handicap.
βAccording to members of the Movement, today the tribesman type is seeking to reduce civilization back to ritual-taboo tribalism wherein no one manβs judgment is of any value. The union wants advancement based on seniority, not on ability and judgment. The persons with whom you associate socially judge you by the amount of money you possess, the family from which you come, the degrees you hold, by social-labelsβ βnot by your proven abilities. Down with judgment! is the cry.β
βIt sounds awfully weird to me,β Larry grumbled in deprecation.
Sam shrugged. βThereβs a lot of sense in it. What the Movement wants is to develop a socioeconomic system in which judgment produces a maximum advantage.β
Larry said, βWhat gets me is that you talk as though half the country was all caught up in debating this Movement. But I havenβt even heard of it, neither has my department chief, nor any of my colleagues, so far as I know. Why isnβt anything about it in the papers or on the Tri-D?β
Sam said mildly, βAs a matter of fact, I took in Mort Lennyβs show the other night and he made some cracks about it. But itβs not the sort of thing thatβs even meant to become popular with the man in the street. To put it bluntly, Voss and his people arenβt particularly keen about the present conception of the democratic ideal. According to him, true democracy can only be exercised by peers and society today isnβt composed of peers. If you have one hundred people, twenty of them competent, intelligent persons, eighty of them untrained, incompetent and less than intelligent, then itβs ridiculous to have the eighty dictate to the twenty.β
Larry looked accusingly at his longtime friend. βYou know, Sam, you sound as though you approve of all this.β
Sam said patiently, βI listen to it all, Larry my boy. I think Voss makes a lot of sense. Thereβs only one drawback.β
βAnd that is?β
βHowβs he going to put it over? This social-label system the Movement complains about was bad enough ten years ago. But look how much worse it is today. Itβs a progressive thing. And, remember, itβs to the benefit of the incompetent. Since the incompetent predominates, youβre going to have a hard time starting up a system based on judgment and ability.β
Larry thought about it for a moment.
Sam said, βLook, Iβm working, Larry. Was there anything else?β
Larry said, βYou wouldnβt know where I could get hold of Voss, would you?β
βAt his home, I imagine, or at the University.β
βHeβs disappeared. Weβre looking for him.β
Sam laughed. βGone underground, eh? The old boy is getting romantic.β
βDoes he have any particular friends who might be putting him up?β
Sam thought about it. βThereβs Frank Nostrand. You know, that rocket expert who was fired when he got in the big hassle with Senator McCord.β
When Sam Sokolski had flicked off, Larry stared at the vacant phone screen for a long moment, assimilating what the other had told him. He was astonished that an organization such as the Movement could have spread to the extent it evidently had through the countryβs intellectual circles, through the scientifically and technically trained, without his department being keenly aware of it.
One result, he decided glumly, of labeling everything contrary to the status quo as weird and dismissing it with contempt. Admittedly, that would have been his own reaction only a week ago.
Suppose that heβd been at a cocktail party, and had drifted up to a group who were arguing about social-label judgments and the need to develop a movement to change societyβs use of them. The discussion would have gone in one ear, out the other, and he would have muttered inwardly, βWeirds,β and have drifted on to get himself another vodka martini.
Larry snorted and dialed the Department of Records. Heβd never heard of Frank Nostrand before, so he got Information.
The bright young thing who answered seemed to have a harried expression untypical of Records employees. Larry said to her, βIβd like the brief on a Mr. Frank Nostrand who is evidently an expert on rockets. The only other thing I know about him is that he recently got in the news as the result of a controversy with Senator McCord.β
βJust a moment, sir,β the bright young thing said.
She touched buttons and reached into a delivery chute. When her eyes came up to meet his again, they were more than ever harried. They were absolutely confused.
βMr. Franklin Howard Nostrand,β she said, βcurrently employed by Madison Air as a rocket research technician.β
βThat must be him,β Larry said. βIβm in a hurry, Miss. Whatβs his background?β
Her eyes rounded. βIt saysβ ββ β¦ it says heβs an Archbishop of the Anglican Church.β
Larry Woolford looked at her.
She looked back, pleadingly.
Larry scowled and said, βHis university degrees, please.β
Her eyes darted to the report and she swallowed. βA bachelor in Home Economics, sir.β
βLook here, Miss, how could a Home Economics degree result in his becoming either an Archbishop or a rocket technician?β
βIβm sorry, sir. Thatβs what it says.β
Larry was fuming but there was no point in taking it out on this junior employee of the Department of Records. He snapped, βJust give me his address, please.β
She said agonizingly, βSir, it says, Lhasa, Tibet.β
A red light flicked at the side of his phone and he said to her, βIβll call you back. Iβm getting a priority call.β
He flicked her off, and flicked the incoming call in. It was LaVerne Polk. She seemed to be on the harried side, too.
βLarry,β she said, βyou better get over here right away.β
βWhatβs up, LaVerne?β
βThis Movement,β she said, βit seems to have
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