The Humanoids: A Novel
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On the far planet Wing IV, a brilliant scientist creates the humanoids--sleek black androids programmed to serve humanity.
But are they perfect servants--or perfect masters?
Slowly the humanoids spread throughout the galaxy, threatening to stifle all human endeavor. Only a hidden group of rebels can stem the humanoid tide...if it's not already too late.
Fist published in Astounding Science Fiction during the magazine's heyday, The Humanoids science fiction grand master Jack Williamson's finest novel--has endured for fifty years as a classic on the theme of natural versus artificial life.
detonation anywhere from zero to twelve yards." When his smooth voice stopped, an appalled silence filled that buried room. Men leaned to stare with a sick, slack-jawed fascination at the tiny machine on the table. The muted drone of the ventilator fan became an unpleasant roaring, and the reek of paint seemed stronger. Forester sat shivering, trying not to be ill. "One of these could finish us." With a fumbling care, Mason Horn began screwing the two small sections back together. "If you want to
know," she told him solemnly. "But Mr. White thinks I can carry you. If you will help, the best you can." "Help?" he muttered hashly. "How?" "Just think of where we are going," she told him. "And try to be there." Shuddering, he attempted to believe. "Where are we going?" "To a far, dark place, underground. It's always cold there, and you can hear water running. I don't like it - but there's no opening in the rocks, and no way in but by teleportation, so the black things can't get us there. Mr.
his life fairly with Ruth, until the project claimed him. The first cold rays of the new star, arriving two centuries old, cut short their honeymoon and changed everything. Very young and completely serious about the rites of life, for all her brisk skill with electronic calculators, Ruth had planned the trip. They were staying at the small West Coast town where she was born, and that evening they had driven out to an abandoned lighthouse and carried their picnic basket down the cliffs to a
thought, in tiny, indivisible units. And the dimensions of such uncuttable units of space-time, as he inferred them, placed definite lower limits on the action of such electromagnetic forces as the mutual repulsion of bound positive particles in atomic nuclei. Because all such forces, with their finite velocities of propagation, must have time and space in which to act - and must vanish, therefore, at those certain, almost infinitesimal magnitudes at which time and even distance disappeared.
head to see Ironsmith come striding briskly in between the silver columns. "Ruth stayed on duty," the young man said. "And we're reaching out! The operating potential is coming up fast, as we find and unite more and more well-integrated minds." He glanced down brightly at the man on the floor. "Ready, Forester?" THIRTY the battered tank, the child whimpering silently beside him, Forester didn't try to answer. His pain-fogged brain hadn't followed all the brief against him, but he knew the case