Science Fiction novell som jag läste-behöver hitta. Nuvarande kille är i framtiden (cryogenics ??)

En stund tillbaka läser jag en novell med science-fiction som jag verkligen vill hitta.

"Backfire" av Ross Rocklynne .

Jag läser noga historien i en "Bästa av året" antologi eller en "Best of '" -samling eller liknande.

Du måste ha läst den på Groff Conklin s Omnibus of Science Fiction .

Historien måste vara minst 10, 15 år gammal men sannolikt äldre (från 1950-talet, 60-talet, eller mer sannolikt 70- eller 80-talet. Kanske 90-talet, men igen förmodligen äldre).

Äldre. Ursprungligen publicerad i Förvånande Science-fiction , januari 1943 , tillgängligt på Internetarkiv .

En nuvarande dag (eller 20: e C.) man befinner sig i framtiden - jag kommer inte ihåg hur men menar jag via cryogenics, kanske var han sjuk & hade själv fryst tills det var botemedel.

"He appeared out of thin air on the streets one day, talking a different language. I identified his clothing as twentieth century. They put him under a hypnobioscope and taught him the language. His general explanation was that somebody back in the twentieth century wanted to get rid of him, and sent him on a one-way trip with a time machine. Political enemies."

Exilens namn är Thomas Q. Greeley. Här pratar han med den tjänsteman som nekade honom odödlighetens behandling:

The big man rose with an oath and threw his cigar violently against the wall. "I thought so," he shouted, his face turning slowly red. "I thought so when you began stalling me three or four weeks ago. All that bunk about studying me. You decided then that I didn't 'fit' into your namby-pamby silk civilization where everybody falls into a mold and too bad for them if they don't.

"You're all eighteen years old, and polite and noble and gentle. You work every other year for four hours a day. The rest of the time, you parasitize off of machines. You're so damned superior you stink. You haven't got an ounce of charity in you. You can't appreciate a man from the twentieth century, born in an age when you had to work your guts out to get any place. When you had to harden up like steel and knock the other guy down before he took you over the ropes. So now I don't 'fit' and you won't give me immortality."

He burst into a wild, incredulous laugh which abruptly stopped as he fastened his intense, feral eyes on Bruce.

"Why, I'm so superior in real, animal aliveness to you birds," he bit out, "that I wouldn't trade my body or my outlook for a dozen of yours. Noble! Gentle! Courteous! Weak, sniveling, snobbish degenerates, you mean. O. K., O. K. You asked for it. And believe you me, you're going to regret it. You're going to be glad to give me immortality before I'm through with you. It's a promise! Now get out. I know my rights. These are my quarters until I choose to move, and what the hell do you mean walking in without knocking? Get out!"

Han börjar försöka avböja & kritisera deras samhälls "ytliga" skönhet, & fortsätter att fördjupa dygderna & värdet av åldrandet naturligt - jag minns definitivt att han fortsätter att använda en catchphrase / tema i sin PR-kampanj, något som "det finns inget som min kära, gamla mammas kära, gråhåriga värdighet" (eller mormor, kanske "vitahåriga" ).

"Our civilization," said Greeley, "was based on the word mother. Mother! I wish you could have seen mine, fellows. I sure wish you could—and I'd hate to have you point out your mothers. I'd sicken at the sight of them. Now my mother. She was old. She didn't have a silky face, and curving legs and hips and a sexy smile. She was the way the great Creator meant her to be. She was my mother! She had the respect that was due her, and she had a sweet smile, and there were silver hairs amongst the gold. I shudder for this civilization. Where will you find a crowning glory such as that? Silver hairs among the gold!"

("Nice choice of phrases," Lasser had said, his eyes moist. Probably he was crying now.)

"She died, yes. But was there anything terrible about death? As I sat at her bedside, and clasped her dear old hand in mine, there was no fright in her eyes. She knew she was going to a happier land. She knew that the arms of her Creator were outstretched to gather her to His bosom, and she passed away with a gentle smile on her lips, and her last words were, 'We will see each other again soon, son.' And then she was no more. And I strode away feeling as if I had seen a great truth—for it was then that I saw the real immortality; not an immortality in life, which is but a mockery of the real thing, but an immortality beyond death. I was a happier man for that, fellows, believe you me, when I saw my mother pass into the great beyond."

(Such new thoughts, such beautiful thoughts, such great truths, Lasser was thinking.)

I slutet blir Greeley gjord odödlig, till missnöje av hans anhängare:

Jan's desperate voice blasted out. "Citizens! Behind you stands the man who has showed you the truth about immortality."

There were some half-hearted cheers of agreement. Bruce slowly, helplessly, shook his head back and forth.

"He has showed you the sins of immortality!"

This elicited a greater response. The buildings surrounding the Square threw back thundering echoes. Greeley was standing stone still, wary of face, looking at Jan with his heavy brows drawn suddenly down. He started forward suddenly, his jaw hanging open in an amazed, blistering curse.

Jan saw him coming. He dramatically pointed his arm at Greeley and yelled, "Examine his skin! Yesterday he was made immortal, at his own request."

An invisible switch was thrown and there was no sound. Nor was there motion, save that of Greeley. Greeley came up on Jan's left and his big arm went up and shoved him against the railing. Greeley made a furious grab for the microphone. His voice bit out, "Fellows—" But it was a voice filled with scalding panic, for Greeley must have seen the youths who suddenly urged themselves up the stairs. He turned with a flurry of panic contorting his face. By that time, the youths were on him. They grabbed at his arms and held him. Then Greeley went down, submerged in a tangle of human beings. The microphone went down, too.

"Fellows," came Greeley's voice, but it was a high-pitched scream of protest. A roar rippled over the crowd, spreading outward from the dais. A stream of human beings came surging up onto the dais.

Bruce vainly tried to pick Jan from the sickening carnival of motion and sound. But he couldn't keep his fascinated eyes from Greeley. The man was suddenly held aloft. His clothing had been stripped from his body. Red furrows were on his skin. His neck was hanging at an unnatural angle. Bruce guessed that he was dead. They had examined Greeley's skin.