The Frederik Pohl Omnibus - Frederik Pohl, ebook, Temp
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 The Frederick Pohl
Omnibus
By Frederick Pohl
Scanned & Proofed By MadMaxAU
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 Contents
The Man Who Ate the World
The Seven Deadly Virtues
The Day the Icicle Works Closed
The Knights of Arthur
Mars by Moonlight
The Haunted Corpse
The Middle of Nowhere
The Day of the Boomer Dukes
The Snowmen
The Wizards of Pang's Corners
The Waging of The Peace
Survival Kit
I Plinglot, Who You?
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 The Man who Ate the World
1
He had a name, but at home he was called ‘Sonny,’ and he was almost
always at home. He hated it Other boys his age went to school. Sonny
would have done anything to go to school, but his family was, to put it
mildly, not well off. It wasn’t Sonny’s fault that his father was spectacularly
unsuccessful. But it meant - no school for Sonny, no boys of his own age
for Sonny to play with. All childhoods are tragic (as all adults forget), but
Sonny’s was misery all the way through.
The worst time was at night, when the baby sister was asleep and the
parents were grimly eating and reading and dancing and drinking, until they
were ready to drop. And of all bad nights, the night before his twelfth
birthday was perhaps Sonny’s worst. He was old enough to know what a
birthday party was like. It would be cake and candy, shows and games; it
would be presents, presents, presents. It would be a terrible, endless day.
He switched off the colour-D television and the recorded tapes of sea
chanties and, with an appearance of absent-mindedness, walked towards
the door of his playroom.
Davey Crockett got up from beside the model rocket field and said,
“Hold on thar, Sonny. Mought take a stroll with you.’ Davey’s face was
serene and strong as a Tennessee crag; it swung its long huntin’ rifle under
one arm and put its other arm around Sonny’s shoulders. ‘Where you
reckon we ought to head?’
Sonny shook Davey Crockett’s arm off. ‘Get lost,’ he said petulantly.
“Who wants you around?’
Long John Silver came out of the closet, hobbling on its wooden leg,
crouched over its knobby cane. ‘Ah, young master,’ it said reproachfully,
‘you shouldn’t ought to talk to old Davey like that! He’s a good friend to you,
Davey is. Many’s the weary day Davey and me has been a-keepin’ of your
company. I asks you this, young master: Is it fair and square that you should
be a-tellin’ him to get lost? Is it fair, young master? Is it square?’
Sonny looked at the floor stubbornly and didn’t answer. My gosh, what
 was the use of answering dummies like them? He stood rebelliously silent
and still until he just felt like saying something. And then he said: ‘You go in
the closet, both of you. I don’t want to play with you. I’m going to play with
my trains.’
Long John said unctuously, ‘Now there’s a good idea, that is! You just
be a-havin’ of a good time with your trains, and old Davey and me’ll -’
‘Go ahead!’ shouted Sonny. He stood stamping his foot until they
were out of sight.
His fire truck was in the middle of the floor; he kicked at it, but it rolled
quickly out of reach and slid into its little garage under the tanks of tropical
fish. He scuffed over to the model railroad layout and glared at it. As he
approached, the Twentieth Century Limited came roaring out of a tunnel,
sparks flying from its stack. It crossed a bridge, whistled at a grade
crossing, steamed into the Union Station. The roof of the station glowed
and suddenly became transparent, and through it Sonny saw the bustling
crowds of redcaps and travellers -
‘I don’t want that,’ he said. ‘Casey, crack up old Number Ninety-Nine
again.’
Obediently the layout quivered and revolved a half-turn. Old Casey
Jones, one and an eighth inches tall, leaned out of the cab of the S.P.
locomotive and waved good-bye to Sonny. The locomotive whistled shrilly
twice and started to pick up speed -
It was a good crackup. Little old Casey’s body, thrown completely
free, developed real blisters from the steam and bled real blood. But Sonny
turned his back on it. He had liked that crack-up for a long time - longer than
he liked almost any other toy he owned. But he was tired of it.
He looked around the room.
Tarzan of the Apes, leaning against a foot-thick tree trunk, one hand
on a vine, lifted its head and looked at him. But Tarzan, Sonny calculated
craftily, was clear across the room. The others were in the closet -
Sonny ran out and slammed the door. He saw Tarzan start to come
after him, but even before Sonny was out of the room Tarzan slumped and
stood stock-still.
It wasn’t fair, Sonny thought angrily. It wasn’t fair! They wouldn’t even
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