Collected Stories, Volume 2: The Sentinel
Arthur C. Clarke
Language: English
Pages: 223
ISBN: 2:00187430
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
One of the 35 eBook (digital-only) 2012 RosettaBooks releases comprising the complete Arthur C. Clarke Collection.
Originally published in 1983, this collection represents some of the greatest short fiction from one of the genre's most renowned authors. These collected works were written throughout Clarke's career, from 1946 to 1981—originally appearing in science fiction magazines such as Thrilling Wonder Stories, Famous Fantastic Mysteries, and OMNI.
Between these pages you'll find some of Clarke's most groundbreaking early stories—many of which influenced later classic novel-length work. The title story, "The Sentinel," formed the foundation for what would later become the Space Odyssey series—perhaps Clarke's most famous work. You'll also find "Guardian Angel," a rarely reproduced story that was the inspiration for Childhood's End.
stories (some of which, we suspect, may be slightly exaggerated) it must not be thought that his position has never been challenged. There have even been occasions when he has gone into temporary eclipse. Since it is always entertaining to watch the discomfiture of an expert, I must confess that I take a certain glee in recalling how Professor Hinckleberg disposed of Harry on his own home ground. Many visiting Americans pass through the ‘White Hart’ in the course of the year. Like the residents,
astronomer was in the far corner of the room, talking volubly with one of the junior physicists. He broke off when he saw the newcomers. ‘So you’re back. I thought you would break your necks out in the Mare. Seen any mooncalves?’ The references to H. G. Wells’ fabulous beasts was a lunar joke of such long standing that many terrestrials took it quite seriously and thought the creatures actually existed. ‘No, or we would have brought one back for the menu. How are things going?’ ‘Nothing out of
standing in solitary splendour, yielded up its treasure: then the manuscript of Alice was safely tucked into Ashton’s pocket. Among the antiquities, he was not quite so much at home. There were a few examples to be taken from every gallery, and sometimes it was hard to see the reasons for the choice. It was as if—and again he remembered Albenkian’s words—these works of art had been selected by someone with totally alien standards. This time, with a few exceptions, they had obviously not been
the more we grew to like the race whose possessions we were disturbing for the first time in five million years. Even if they were giants from another sun, they had much in common with man, and it is a great tragedy that our races missed each other by what is, on the cosmic scale, such a narrow margin. We were, I suppose, more fortunate than any archaeologists in history. The vacuum of space had preserved everything from decay and—this was something which could not have been expected—the Jovians
Clytaemnestra. I did my best to avoid her eye, but the Professor seemed to be quite without shame. He walked into the airlock, checked that his property was back, and emerged rubbing his hands. ‘Well, that’s that,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Now let’s sit down and have a drink to forget all this unpleasantness, shall we?’ I pointed indignantly at the clock. ‘Have you gone crazy!’ I yelled. ‘He’s already halfway to Jupiter!’ Professor Forster looked at me disapprovingly. ‘Impatience,’ he said, ‘is