"Larry Niven - Convergent series" - читать интересную книгу автора (Niven Larry)

stories were left over, and I was writing a third. Those three science-fiction/detective stories
became The Long ARM of Gil Hamilton, published in 1976.

Now, here's the problem. The first of the "Gil the Arm" stories, and many of the stories in Tales
of Known Space, came out of The Shape of Space. About half the book.

In the meantime, I keep meeting people who started reading my work during the past eight years,
and have heard of The Shape of Space, and can't find it. The old paperback sells well at huckster
tables during science-fiction conventions, when it can be found at all. It's easy to say that a
reader can get half the stories by spending twice the money on two newer books. But what about
"Convergent Series" and "The Deadlier Weapon"? People who never read them seem to know the plot
lines; they get told around at parties.

I finally asked some people. Shall I gather up 30,000 words of new stories and put them in a book
with 30,000 words of older stories from The Shape of Space? I was told to do it.


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If you read The Shape of Space eight years ago... well, it's your money. You may regard this as a
chance to see how my style and/or abilities have changed over the past ten years or so. I've added
historical notes following some of the stories.

LVCN.



Bordered in Black


Only one figure stood in the airlock, though it was a cargo lock, easily big enough to hold both
men. Lean and sandy haired, the tiny figure was obviously Carver Rappaport. A bushy beard now
covered half his face. He waited patiently while the ramp was run up, and then he started down.

Turnbull, waiting at the bottom, suppressed growing uneasiness. Something was wrong. He'd known it
the moment he heard that the Overcee was landing. The ship must have been in the solar system for
hours. Why hadn't she called in?

And where was Wall Kameon?

Returning spacers usually sprinted down the ramp, eager to touch honest concrete again. Rappaport
came down with slow, methodical speed. Seen close, his beard was ragged, unkempt. He reached
bottom, and Turnbull saw that the square features were set like cement.

Rappaport brushed past him and kept walking.

Turnbull ran after him and fell into step, looking and feeling foolish. Rappaport was a good head
taller, and where he was walking, Turnbull was almost running. He shouted above the background