First Thus Edition hardcover with unclipped dust jacket, in very good condition. Jacket is slightly sunned, lower board corners are bumped, and page block is somewhat tanned. Pages are clear and unmarked throughout. LW
This was the first volume of an English original anthology series than lasted for three volumes in the mid-1970's. I remember liking the Michael G. Coney and Bob Shaw stories, and George R.R. Martin's A Beast For Norn, one of his Tuf stories. My favorite was Seeing by Harlan Ellison.
This short story collection dates from the mid- 70's, a time when the anthology market was dominated by such well known editors at Terry Carr and Damon Knight. Peter Weston - active in the UK scene as a fanzine writer and editor - would be relatively unknown to North American readers, but here he puts together a pretty solid collection. Contributions come from both sides of the pond and include pieces by Brian Aldiss, Harlan Ellison, George R.R. Martin, Christopher Priest, and Robert Holdstock, among others.
I found this gem buried at the bottom of a box at a second-hand bookstore. I was drawn to the cover at first. When I checked all the authors of the stories none of them were familiar to me, except George R. R. Martin. I liked all the stories. I think they would make great scenarios for a season of Black Mirror. xD
1) '''Seeker, you are expected. Welcome to Norma Museum.' So said the android who showed me into the airlock and guided me through into the hotel. Here as elsewhere, androids occupied all menial posts. I glanced at the calendar clock in the foyer, punching my wrisputer like all arriving travellers to discover where in time Earth might be now.''
2) ''[Ed.] I know almost nothing about George R R Martin except that he lives in Chicago and is another writer rapidly making a name for himself in science fiction. With the allies he has, how can he lose?''
3) ''So Granton died, with no one there to help him in his last seconds of life. He died in pain and horror at his own condition; it is likely that he was mad at the end, before the slimy mass enveloped his heart and covered his staring eyes, for the gurgle that escaped his lips bore a close resemblance to a laugh. Then even his helmet visor was shrouded in obscenity. They left his body. In time the earth would reclaim the metal and the bones, and the tackymat would perish itself in the sun.''