Make Room! Make Room!: The Classic Novel of an Overpopulated Future by Harry Har

Description: Make Room! Make Room! by Harry Harrison A classic of dystopian SF--the basis for the movie Soylent Green--returns to print FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description The world is crowded. Far too crowded. Its starving billions live on lentils, soya beans, and --if theyre lucky--the odd starving rat. In a New York City groaning under the burden of 35 million inhabitants, detective Andy Rusch is engaged in a desperate and lonely hunt for a killer everyone has forgotten. For even in a world such as this, a policeman can find himself utterly alone.... Acclaimed on its original publication in 1966, Make Room! Make Room! was adapted into the movie Soylent Green in 1973, starring Charlton Heston along with Edward G. Robinson in his last role. Author Biography Harry Harrison, author of innumerable science fiction novels and stories, divides his time between Ireland and California. Review "Harrisons fictions constitute one of the main monuments in modern SF." --Paul Di Filippo, SciFi.com Review Quote "Harrisons fictions constitute one of the main monuments in modern SF." -Paul Di Filippo, SciFi.com Excerpt from Book Chapter 1 The August sun struck in through the open window and burned on Andrew Ruschs bare legs until discomfort dragged him awake from the depths of heavy sleep. Only slowly did he become aware of the heat and the damp and gritty sheet beneath his body. He rubbed at his gummed-shut eyelids, then lay there, staring up at the cracked and stained plaster of the ceiling, only half awake and experiencing a feeling of dislocation, not knowing in those first waking moments just where he was, although he had lived in this room for over seven years. He yawned and the odd sensation slipped away while he groped for the watch that he always put on the chair next to the bed, then he yawned again as he blinked at the hands mistily seen behind the scratched crystal. Seven . . . seven oclock in the morning, and there was a little number 9 in the middle of the square window. Monday, the ninth of August, 1999-and hot as a furnace already, with the city still imbedded in the heat wave that had baked and suffocated New York for the past ten days. Andy scratched at a trickle of perspiration on his side, then moved his legs out of the patch of sunlight and bunched the pillow up under his neck. From the other side of the thin partition that divided the room in half there came a clanking whir that quickly rose to a high-pitched drone. "Morning . . ." he shouted over the sound, then began coughing. Still coughing he reluctantly stood and crossed the room to draw a glass of water from the wall tank; it came out in a thin, brownish trickle. He swallowed it, then rapped the dial on the tank with his knuckles and the needle bobbed up and down close to the Empty mark. It needed filling, he would have to see to that before he signed in at four oclock at the precinct. The day had begun. A full-length mirror with a crack running down it was fixed to the front of the hulking wardrobe and he poked his face close to it, rubbing at his bristly jaw. He would have to shave before he went in. No one should ever look at himself in the morning, naked and revealed, he decided with distaste, frowning at the dead white of his skin and the slight bow to his legs that was usually concealed by his pants. And how did he manage to have ribs that stuck out like those of a starved horse, as well as a growing potbelly-both at the same time? He kneaded the soft flesh and thought that it must be the starchy diet, that and sitting around on his chunk most of the time. But at least the fat wasnt showing on his face. His forehead was a little higher each year, but wasnt too obvious as long as his hair was cropped short. You have just turned thirty, he thought to himself, and the wrinkles are already starting around your eyes. And your nose is too big-wasnt it Uncle Brian who always said that was because there was Welsh blood in the family? And your canine teeth are a little too obvious so when you smile you look a bit like a hyena. Youre a handsome devil, Andy Rusch, and when was the last time you had a date? He scowled at himself, then went to look for a handkerchief to blow his impressive Welsh nose. There was just a single pair of clean undershorts in the drawer and he pulled them on; that was another thing he had to remember today, to get some washing done. The squealing whine was still coming from the other side of the partition as he pushed through the connecting door. "Youre going to give yourself a coronary, Sol," he told the gray-bearded man who was perched on the wheelless bicycle, pedaling so industriously that perspiration ran down his chest and soaked into the bath towel that he wore tied around his waist. "Never a coronary," Solomon Kahn gasped out, pumping steadily. "I been doing this every day for so long that my ticker would miss it if I stopped. And no cholesterol in my arteries either since regular flushing with alcohol takes care of that. And no lung cancer since I couldnt afford to smoke even if I wanted to, which I dont. And at the age of seventy-five no prostatitis because . . ." "Sol, please-spare me the horrible details on an empty stomach. Do you have an ice cube to spare?" "Take two-its a hot day. And dont leave the door open too long." Andy opened the small refrigerator that squatted against the wall and quickly took out the plastic container of margarine, then squeezed two ice cubes from the tray into a glass and slammed the door. He filled the glass with water from the wall tank and put it on the table next to the margarine. "Have you eaten yet?" he asked. "Ill join you, these things should be charged by now." Sol stopped pedaling and the whine died away to a moan, then vanished. He disconnected the wires from the electrical generator that was geared to the rear axle of the bike, and carefully coiled them up next to the four black automobile storage batteries that were racked on top of the refrigerator. Then, after wiping his hands on his soiled towel sarong, he pulled out one of the bucket seats salvaged from an ancient 1975 Ford, and sat down across the table from Andy. "I heard the six oclock news," he said. "The Eldsters are organizing another protest march today on relief headquarters. Thats where youll see coronaries!" "I wont, thank God, Im not on until four and Union Square isnt in our precinct." He opened the breadbox and took out one of the six-inch-square red crackers, then pushed the box over to Sol. He spread margarine thinly on it and took a bite, wrinkling his nose as he chewed. "I think this margarine has turned." "How can you tell?" Sol grunted, biting into one of the dry crackers. "Anything made from motor oil and whale blubber is turned to begin with." "Now you begin to sound like a naturist," Andy said, washing his cracker down with cold water. "Theres hardly any flavor at all to the fats made from petrochemicals and you know there arent any whales left so they cant use blubber-its just good chlorella oil." "Whales, plankton, herring oil, its all the same. Tastes fishy. Ill take mine dry so I dont grow no fins." There was a sudden staccato rapping on the door and he groaned. "Not yet eight oclock and already they are after you." "It could be anything," Andy said, starting for the door. "It could be but its not, thats the callboys knock and you know it as well as I do and I bet you dollars to doughnuts thats just who it is. See?" He nodded with gloomy satisfaction when Andy unlocked the door and they saw the skinny, bare-legged messenger standing in the dark hall. "What do you want, Woody?" Andy asked. "I don wan no-fin," Woody lisped over his bare gums. Though he was in his early twenties he didnt have a tooth in his head. "Lieutenan says bring, I bring." He handed Andy the message board with his name written on the outside. Andy turned toward the light and opened it, reading the lieutenants spiky scrawl on the slate, then took the chalk and scribbled his initials after it and returned it to the messenger. He closed the door behind him and went back to finish his breakfast, frowning in thought. "Dont look at me that way," Sol said, "I didnt send the message. Am I wrong in guessing its not the most pleasant of news?" "Its the Eldsters, theyre jamming the Square already and the precinct needs reinforcements." "But why you? This sounds like a job for the harness bulls." "Harness bulls! Where do you get that medieval slang? Of course they need patrolmen for the crowd, but there have to be detectives there to spot known agitators, pickpockets, purse-grabbers and the rest. Itll be murder in that park today. I have to check in by nine, so I have enough time to bring up some water first." Andy dressed slowly in slacks and a loose sport shirt, then put a pan of water on the windowsill to warm in the sun. He took the two five-gallon plastic jerry cans, and when he went out Sol looked up from the TV set, glancing over the top of his old-fashioned glasses. "When you bring back the water Ill fix you a drink-or do you think it is too early?" "Not the way I feel today, its not." The hall was ink black once the door had closed behind him and he felt his way carefully along the wall to the stairs, cursing and almost falling when he stumbled over a heap of refuse someone had thrown there. Two flights down a window had been knocked through the wall and enough light came in to show him the way down the last two flights to the street. After the damp hallway the heat of Twenty-fifth Street hit him in a musty wave, a stifling miasma compounded of decay, dirt and unwashed humanity. He had to make his way through the women who already filled the steps of the building, walking carefully so that he didnt step on the children who were playing below. The sidewalk was still in shadow but so jammed with people that he Details ISBN0765318857 Author Harry Harrison Short Title MAKE ROOM MAKE ROOM Publisher Orb Books Language English ISBN-10 0765318857 ISBN-13 9780765318855 Media Book Format Paperback DEWEY FIC Year 2008 Imprint Orb Books Subtitle The Classic Novel of an Overpopulated Future DOI 10.1604/9780765318855 Country of Publication United States AU Release Date 2008-04-01 NZ Release Date 2008-04-01 US Release Date 2008-04-01 UK Release Date 2008-04-01 Pages 288 Publication Date 2008-04-01 Audience General We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:13105139;

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