The coming of the Amazons : $b A satiristic speculation on the scientific future of civilizationJohnson, Owen
Science
The coming of the Amazons : $b A satiristic speculation on the scientific future of civilization
Johnson, Owen
Cryonics -- Fiction; Satire; Science fiction; Sex role -- Fiction
I found as I had expected that the circumstances of my arrival
occupied the place of honor. But what astonished me was to discover
that the gist of my inquiries and the long explanations of Acquilla
the night before were rendered with an amazing fidelity. I surmised
that by some hidden recording device every word of our conversation
had been transmitted. The portrait given of me was flattering, though
certain liberties were taken with the amazement and admiration I had
displayed for the marvels of the new civilization. But this I put down
to the editorial tradition of local pride. The news of the day was
given briefly without the embellishments to which we are accustomed;
important discoveries in the social organization of Arcturus III
made possible by the micro-photostatic enlargement of astronomical
records; the launching of a new luminous fringe in the Paris fashions;
the meeting of the Population Council in New Orleans to deal with an
unforeseen outcrop of twins; the opening of the new Frigidrome in
the tunnelled vaults of the Palisades, capable of accommodating a
thousand new inmates, etc. There were talks on health, a description
of a new symphony, the arrival of a hundred Scandinavian males and the
excitement caused by their striking personal appearance. All this,
while interesting, left me with a feeling of depression.
I called Mag and said:
“But isn’t there a man’s section; a sport page, you know? You don’t
understand? Don’t men play football or baseball or golf or tennis?
Isn’t there a world’s heavyweight champion?”
“Yes, yes. I understand,” Mag replied vaguely. “Run-jump, you mean.”
“Exactly. Run, jump, swim, you know.”
“Oh yes, I know! Men run, men jump and they dance, oh, beautifully!”
I gave a gesture of discouragement.
“You make me fear the worst,” I said dejectedly. I rose. “Never mind.
I’ll visit the grounds for a little walk and then return to the
library.”
When I stepped out onto the broad lawn a machinot was cutting the
grass, seated on an electric machine which he guided so deftly that I
watched entranced the mathematical inevitability of his movements.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account