With all this, one might argue that 'Nightfall' is the best (or at least the most popular) short science fiction story ever to appear in the magazines. Well, I often wonder, with a shudder, what might have happened on the evening of March 17, 1941, if some angelic spirit had whispered in my ear, 'Isaac, you are about to start writing the best short science fiction story of our time.'
I would undoubtedly have frozen solid. I wouldn't have been able to type a word.
But we don't know the future, and I tapped away blissfully, writing the story and completing it by April 9, 1941. That day, I submitted it to Campbell. He asked for a small revision. I took care of that, and on April 24, 1941, he bought the story.
It set several records for me. It was the longest story I had yet sold, a little over thirteen thousand words. Since Campbell paid me a bonus (my first one), the word rate was one and a quarter cents a word, and the total check was for $ 166, more than twice as large as any single payment I had ever before received.[11]
Then, too, 'Nightfall' appeared in the September 1941 issue of Astounding as the lead novelette. For the first time, I made the cover of that magazine, with 'Nightfall, by Isaac Asimov' in large, bold letters.
Most important of all, the appearance of 'Nightfall' graduated me by common consent (three years after I had begun my career) into the list of first-rank science fiction writers.
Alas, the story is not included here. It appears (of course) in Nightfall and Other Stories.[12]
The excitement of writing 'Nightfall' and Campbell 's hearty and unqualified praise of it ought, one might think, to have set me furiously to work at the typewriter, but it didn't. Spring 1941 was a bad time for me.
I could at any time that half year have left Columbia with a master's degree, but that would have done me no good. I had no job to go to, so I could only mark time and try to raise my value to some prospective employer by going on to the big one, the doctorate.
But that meant I had to take a series of elaborate, interminable 'qualifying examinations,' which I had to pass in order to be allowed to begin research without which I could not get the Ph.D. Passing was difficult and I didn't feel prepared at all, but I had to try it sometime, and besides, if I didn't fall short by too far, I would be allowed to continue taking courses and to repeat the qualifying examinations at some future date.
So in May I absented myself from the typewriter, studied earnestly for my qualifyings, took them - and didn't pass. I did well enough to earn the option of a future repeat, and I also received my M.A. as a kind of consolation prize, but I was badly disheartened all the same.
(And in the larger world outside, though Great Britain had survived air bombardment, Hitler still seemed unstoppable. He invaded the Balkans and was again winning spectacular victories, and that was disheartening, too.)
It was not till May 24, 1941, that I could bring myself to go back to my writing. I turned out 'Not Final!' which I submitted to Campbell on June 2. It was accepted on the sixth, but without a bonus.
Not Final! [13]
Nicholas Orloff inserted a monocle in his left eye with all the incorruptible Briticism of a Russian educated at Oxford and said reproachfully, 'But, my dear Mr. Secretary! Half a billion dollars!'
Leo Birnam shrugged his shoulders wearily and allowed his lank body to cramp up still farther in the chair, 'The appropriation must go through, commissioner. The Dominion government here at Ganymede is becoming desperate. So far, I've been holding them off, but as secretary of scientific affairs, my powers are small.'
'I know, but -' and Orloff spread his hands helplessly.
'I suppose so? agreed Birnam. 'The Empire government finds it easier to look the other way. They've done it consistently up to now. I've tried for a year now to have them understand the nature of the danger that hangs over the entire System, but it seems that it can't be done. But I'm appealing to you, Mr. Commissioner. You're new in your post and can approach this Jovian affair with an unjaundiced eye.'
Orloff coughed and eyed the tips of his boots. In the three months since he had succeeded Gridley as colonial commissioner he had tabled unread everything relating to 'those damned Jovian D.T.'s.' That had been according to the established cabinet policy which had labeled the Jovian affair as 'deadwood' long before he had entered office.
But now that Ganymede was becoming nasty, he found himself sent out to Jovopolis with instructions to hold the 'blasted provincials' down. It was a nasty spot.
Birnam was speaking, 'The Dominion government has reached the point where it needs the money so badly, in fact, that if they don't get it, they're going to publicize everything.'
Orloff's phlegm broke completely, and he snatched at the monocle as it dropped, 'My dear fellow!'
'I know what it would mean. I've advised against it, but they're justified. Once the inside of the Jovian affair is out; once the people know about it; the Empire government won't stay in power a week. And when the Technocrats come in, they'll give us whatever we ask. Public opinion will see to that'
'But you'll also create a panic and hysteria -'
'Surely! That is why we hesitate. But you might call this an ultimatum. We want secrecy, we need secrecy; but we need money more.'
'I see.' Orloff was thinking rapidly, and the conclusions he came to were not pleasant. 'In that case, it would be advisable to investigate the case further. If you have the papers concerning the communications with the planet Jupiter -'
'I have them,' replied Birnam, dryly, 'and so has the Empire government at Washington. That won't do, commissioner. It's the same cud that's been chewed by Earth officials for the last year, and it's gotten us nowhere. I want you to come to Ether Station with me.'
The Ganymedan had risen from his chair, and he glowered down upon Orloff from his six and a half feet of height.
Orloff flushed, 'Are you ordering me?'
'In a way, yes, I tell you there is no time. If you intend acting, you must act quickly or not at all.' Birnam paused, then added, 'You don't mind walking, I hope. Power vehicles aren't allowed to approach Ether Station, ordinarily, and I can use the walk to explain a few of the facts. It's only two miles off.'
'I'll walk,' was the brusque reply.
The trip upward to subground level was made in silence, which was broken by Orloff when they stepped into the dimly lit anteroom.
'It's chilly here.'.
T know. It's difficult to keep the temperature up to norm this near the surface. But it will be colder outside. Here!'
Birnam had kicked open a closet door and was indicating the garments suspended from the ceiling. 'Put them on. You'll need them.'
Orloff fingered them doubtfully, 'Are they heavy enough?'
Birnam was pouring into his own costume as he spoke. 'They're electrically heated. You'll find them plenty warm. That's it! Tuck the trouser legs "inside the boots and lace them tight.'
He turned then and, with a grunt, brought out a double compressed-gas cylinder from its rack in one corner of the closet. He glanced at the dial reading; and then turned the stopcock. There was a thin wheeze of escaping gas, at which Birnam sniffed with satisfaction.
'Do you know how to work one of these?' he asked, as he screwed onto the jet a flexible tube of metal mesh, at the other end of which was a curiously curved object of thick, clear glass.