Jack Williamson published his first short story in 1928, and he's been producing entertaining, thought-provoking science fiction ever since. The second person named Grand Master by the Science Fiction Writers of America--the first was Robert A. Heinlein--Williamson has always been in the forefront of the field, being the first to write fiction about genetic engineering (he invented the term), anti-matter, and other cutting-edge science. A renaissance man, Williamson is a master of fantasy and horror as well as science fiction. He lives in Portales, New Mexico.

With Folded Hands

The Humanoids

Supplemental Materials

What is included with this book?

The New copy of this book will include any supplemental materials advertised. Please check the title of the book to determine if it should include any access cards, study guides, lab manuals, CDs, etc.

The Used, Rental and eBook copies of this book are not guaranteed to include any supplemental materials. Typically, only the book itself is included. This is true even if the title states it includes any access cards, study guides, lab manuals, CDs, etc.

Excerpts

Underhill was walking home from the office, because his wife had the car, the afternoon he first met the new mechanicals. His feet were following his usual diagonal path across a weedy vacant blockhis wife usually had the carand his preoccupied mind was rejecting various impossible ways to meet his notes at the Two Rivers bank, when a new wall stopped him. The wall wasn't any common brick or stone, but something sleek and bright and strange. Underhill stared up at a long new building. He felt vaguely annoyed and surprised at this glittering obstructionit certainly hadn't been here last week. Then he saw the thing in the window. The window itself wasn't any ordinary glass. The wide, dustless panel was completely transparent, so that only the glowing letters fastened to it showed that it was there at all. The letters made a severe, modernistic sign: * * * Two Rivers Agency HUMANOID INSTITUTE The Perfect Mechanicals "To Serve and Obey, And Guard Men from Harm." * * * His dim annoyance sharpened, because Underhill was in the mechanicals business himself. Times were already hard enough, and mechanicals were a drug on the market. Androids, mechanoids, electronoids, automatoids, and ordinary robots. Unfortunately, few of them did all the salesmen promised, and the Two Rivers market was already sadly oversaturated. Underhill sold androids--when he could. His next consignment was due tomorrow, and he didn't quite know how to meet the bill. Frowning, he paused to stare at the thing behind that invisible window. He had never seen a humanoid. Like any mechanical not at work, it stood absolutely motionless. Smaller and slimmer than a man. A shining black, its sleek silicone skin had a changing sheen of bronze and metallic blue. Its graceful oval face wore a fixed look of alert and slightly surprised solicitude. Altogether, it was the most beautiful mechanical he had ever seen. Too small, of course, for much practical utility. He murmured to himself a reassuring quotation from theAndroid Salesman:"Androids are bigbecause the makers refuse to sacrifice power, essential functions, or dependability. Androids are your biggest buy!" The transparent door slid open as he turned toward it, and he walked into the haughty opulence of the new display room to convince himself that these streamlined items were just another flash effort to catch the woman shopper. He inspected the glittering layout shrewdly, and his breezy optimism faded. He had never heard of the Humanoid Institute, but the invading firm obviously had big money and bigtime merchandising know-how. He looked around for a salesman, but it was another mechanical that came gliding silently to meet him. A twin of the one in the window, it moved with a quick, surprising grace. Bronze and blue lights flowed over its lustrous blackness, and a yellow name plate flashed from its naked breast: * * * HUMANOID Serial No. 81-H-B-27 The Perfect Mechanical "To Serve and Obey, And Guard Men from Harm." * * * Curiously it had no lenses. The eyes in its bald oval head were steel colored, blindly staring. But it stopped a few feet in front of him, as if it could see anyhow, and it spoke to him with a high, melodious voice: "At your service, Mr. Underhill." The use of his name startled him, for not even the androids could tell one man from another. But this was a clever merchandising stunt, of course, not too difficult in a town the size of Two Rivers. The salesman must be some local man, prompting the mechanical from behind the partition. Underhill erased his momentary astonishment, and said loudly: "May I see your salesman, please?" "We employ no human salesmen, sir," its soft silvery voice replied insta