By Arthur C. Clarke

ISBN-10: 0345438205

ISBN-13: 9780345438201

1000 years after the Jupiter venture to discover the mysterious Monolith have been destroyed, after Dave Bowman used to be reworked into the famous person baby, Frank Poole drifted in house, frozen and forgotten, leaving the supercomputer HAL inoperable. yet now Poole has lower back to lifestyles, awakening in an international a long way assorted from the only he left behind--and simply because the Monolith can be stirring once more . . .

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Actually, I don't think the last one is original; if it is, that's the nearest he ever got to a joke. He never cracked a smile when I tried one of my favourites on him – hope you haven't heard it before. It obviously dates from your time. The Dean's complaining to his Faculty. 'Why do you scientists need such expensive equipment? Why can't you be like the Maths Department, which only needs a blackboard and a waste-paper basket? Better still, like the Department of Philosophy. That doesn't even need a wastepaper basket…' Well, perhaps Ted had heard it before… I expect most philosophers have… Anyway, give him my regards – and don't, repeat don't, get into any arguments with him!

But some observers swore that they had shown purposefulness – even inquisitiveness – when they were encountered at close quarters. Nonsense, answered the sceptics – merely electrostatic attraction! Inevitably, this led to discussions about life in the Universe, and Poole found himself – not for the first time -defending his own era against its extremes of credulity and scepticism. Although the 'Aliens are among us' mania had already subsided when he was a boy, even as late as the 2020s the Space Agency was still plagued by lunatics who claimed to have been contacted – or abducted – by visitors from other worlds.

Say big R is 40,000 – knock off those three zeros to make it all klicks – 4 times root 40 – hmm – just over 25… Well, twenty-five kilometres was a fair distance, and certainly no spaceport on Earth had ever seemed this huge. Even knowing perfectly well what to expect, it was uncanny to watch vessels many times the size of his long-lost Discovery lifting off, not only with no sound, but with no apparent means of propulsion. Though Poole missed the flame and fury of the old-time countdowns, he had to admit that this was cleaner, more efficient – and far safer.

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