Written by Richard Wilson 23y5w
Richard Wilson 3c6f6t
The older man sat down on the grassy bank on the hill overlooking the orchard. The autumn sun was bright but the humidity was low and there was a breeze. The younger man sprawled next to him."Thanks," said Roger Boynton. He looked across the valley, past the apple trees, to the fine white-columned house on the hill beyond. He smiled reminiscently. .. 1e641j
Richard Wilson 3c6f6t
By putting himself into reverse, the doom-intended man left the twentieth century far ahead. Nineteen fifty-six was a good year to get out of. John Arthur Benn watched the roaring twenties go by, and the gay nineties, backwards, and wondered how it would be to pilot a riverboat on the Mississippi, or to fight under John Paul Jones.Before he was rea..
Richard Wilson 3c6f6t
Jones had called me the day after our talk in the cafeteria, setting up a meet for that afternoon. I'd had a dream about uru, a wild and wonderful dream that made it impossible for me not to go. I'm a hunch-player, anyway. So I went. But I was cautious enough to leave my money home and not to wear my best clothes. Then if it turned out that Jo..