Lincoln said it eons ago.... It took a speck of one-celled plant life on a world parsecs away to prove it for all the galaxy.
ght. I drowned three times and a purple octopus gave me an enema. Woke up screaming, but got an idea from it. Funny that I never thought of it before. Water's the fountainhead of life, and there is no real reason for assuming my enemy is terrestrial. He could just as well be aquatic. I'll find out today--maybe. Just to be doing something positive--even thinking--makes me feel better....
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Got it! I know where it is! And I know how to kill it. Fact is, I've already done it! Now there's no more pressure. God--what a relief! This morning I burned the meadow and cut down the nearest trees surrounding this clearing and nothing happened. I expected that. Then I checked the water. Nothing in the stream, but the pond was green!--filled almost to the edge with a mass of algae! A hundred-foot platter of sticky green slime, cohesive as glue and ugly as sin. It had to be it--and it was. I never saw algae that cohered quite like that. So I gave it about fifty gallons of roc
This is a variation of the humans-are-not-the-ultimate-intelligence theme. The storyline carries a bit of dreariness throughout, as a spaceman stranded on an uninviting planet chronicles his days. It is not so hard to guess what the ending will be like after reading the first few pages.
Excavators unearth a corroded space ship, ten thousand years old. Barely preserved under wrappings is the journal of a shipwrecked Earthman detailing the absence of animal life, but the presence--somehow--of an intelligence stalking him.
An interesting mystery.