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datatime: 2022-12-04 20:53:52 Author:VMwnXWTk

He had, of course, expected whirring computers, telephones with TV attachments, smoothly efficient robots humming away, ultramodern furniture, and a general appearance reminiscent of a NASA clean room. (Our present offices, in the spanking new Conde Nast Building on Madison Avenue, are a little closer to that dream.)

Many times young science fiction fans would come to Manhattan and phone me from Grand Central Station, which connected underground with the good old Graybar. "I've just come to New York and I read every issue of Analog and I'd like to come up and see what a science fiction magazine office looks like," they would invariably say.

To all Titanic buffs, I recommend a work I found not only valuable but stirring: Charles Pellegrino's Her Name, Titanic (McGraw-Hill, 1988).

And then came Spider Robinson.

And then came Spider Robinson.

John Chase and William Felix for data on gold value and bullion shipments.

John Chase and William Felix for data on gold value and bullion shipments.

"Sir," Cornell said softly, "Derek Montague had no living relatives."

Truth to tell, I don't remember if he sent in a manuscript through the mail first, or telephoned for an appointment to visit the office. No matter. And now he's off in Nova Scotia, living among the stunted trees and frost heaves, where nobody - not even short - memoried editors - can reach him easily.

Mac Plus, which made rewriting easier if not pleasurable. Of the many books on the Titanic disaster I consulted for background material, by far the most valuable was Ballard's own The Discovery of the Titanic (Warner/Madison, 1987).

Megan Hughes, Todd Ellerman, Joey Arone, and my incredibly patient wife, Priscilla Serling, for their aid with a word processor.

Other excellent research sources were John P. Eaton's and Charles Haas's Titanic-Triumph and Tragedy (W. W. Norton, 1986), the most definitive account of them all, and Walter Lord's two brilliant classics, A Night to Remember (Holt, 1955) and The Night Lives On (William Morrow, 1986).

"Thank you, Mr. President. I'll do that."

"Sir," Cornell said softly, "Derek Montague had no living relatives."

Cornell sensed the meeting was over and rose to leave. The President stopped him.

Megan Hughes, Todd Ellerman, Joey Arone, and my incredibly patient wife, Priscilla Serling, for their aid with a word processor.

Cornell sensed the meeting was over and rose to leave. The President stopped him.

"Sir," Cornell said softly, "Derek Montague had no living relatives."

The truth about the exploration of the Titanic's interior is that no human being has ever entered the sunken ship. Thus, the interior scenes, like the characters participating in the two expeditions, are totally imaginary. (However, there really was an 1898 novel called Futility, which uncannily predicted the Titanic's fate.)

Aaron Priest, agent and old friend, for his usual support, encouragement, and advice.

To all Titanic buffs, I recommend a work I found not only valuable but stirring: Charles Pellegrino's Her Name, Titanic (McGraw-Hill, 1988).

Megan Hughes, Todd Ellerman, Joey Arone, and my incredibly patient wife, Priscilla Serling, for their aid with a word processor.

Other excellent research sources were John P. Eaton's and Charles Haas's Titanic-Triumph and Tragedy (W. W. Norton, 1986), the most definitive account of them all, and Walter Lord's two brilliant classics, A Night to Remember (Holt, 1955) and The Night Lives On (William Morrow, 1986).

I'd tell them to come on up, but not to expect too much. My advice was always ignored. The poor kid would come in and gape at the piles of manuscripts, the battered old metal desks, and mountains of magazines and stacks of artwork, the ramshackle filing cabinets and bookshelves. His eyes would fill with tears. His mouth would sag open.

I'd tell them to come on up, but not to expect too much. My advice was always ignored. The poor kid would come in and gape at the piles of manuscripts, the battered old metal desks, and mountains of magazines and stacks of artwork, the ramshackle filing cabinets and bookshelves. His eyes would fill with tears. His mouth would sag open.

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