Chapter 8: Tales from the Editorial Office (Please Support! Keep Reading!)

After reading "Morning Dao" and offering high praise, Asimov pulled a paperclip from his drawer to secure Ernie's manuscript. He then took a kraft paper envelope, wrote the recipient's and sender's addresses on the front, affixed a three-cent stamp to the top right corner according to the weight, and sealed it with paste. Affixing the stamp meant the sender had already paid, eliminating the need for payment upon delivery and significantly increasing mailing efficiency.

All that remained was to drop the submission into a street-corner mailbox. The address on the envelope, 79 Seventh Avenue, Manhattan, was the New York headquarters of Street & Smith Publications. It is worth noting that while *Astounding Stories* was founded by Hugo Gernsback, it was sold to Clayton Magazines in 1929 due to poor management. Later, in 1933, Clayton sold the ownership of *Astounding Stories* to Street & Smith, who then brought on John Campbell as editor-in-chief. Before this, the magazine had been titled *Astounding Stories of Super-Science*; it was only after the acquisition by Street & Smith that it was renamed to its current title.

With the publisher located in New York City, they would receive Ernie's submission by that evening at the latest. As a web novelist in his past life, Ernie had always been accustomed to online submissions. This was his first time submitting via mail, and the enthusiastic Asimov had handled the entire process for him. Although he knew Asimov wouldn't mind such a trivial matter—looking at how excited he was after reading the story, he probably would have even paid for it—Ernie still kept a mental note of the favor. Once he received his royalties, he would have to treat Asimov to a grand night out.

After the two continued to chat about science fiction for a while, Asimov's mother, Anna, walked in and "scolded" her son. Asimov had to go eat lunch, and Ernie was kept behind by the hospitable Mrs. Anna. As Russian Jews who had immigrated to the United States, the food Mrs. Anna cooked featured distinct ethnic characteristics: mashed potatoes, beef stew, and a low-alcohol beverage called "kvass," which had a sweet taste. While not very familiar with Russian customs, Ernie was familiar with kvass. It was the drink sold by Wahaha when he was in elementary school. Back then, to act "cool," many boys in class drank it, including himself. It was quite amusing to recall how they felt like mature adults drinking alcohol after having a glass.

Now, he had finally tasted the authentic version! It was just… not as good as Wahaha. Beverages produced by postmodern industrial assembly lines truly eclipsed those made via traditional home fermentation. Still, it had a unique flavor, and Ernie drank quite a bit.

After a hearty meal, Ernie bought a bag of candy at a candy store before leaving. Having eaten a free meal, this was his way of returning the favor. Afterward, he found a street-corner mailbox, dropped the envelope in, and pedaled home with a sense of anticipation.

***

"[This is CBS, reporting for 'Today in Europe.' I am Edward R. Murrow, broadcasting to you from the top floor of Bush House in London.]"

"[The date is May 22, 1940, 18:00 Greenwich Mean Time. Across the European continent, the roar of artillery is tearing through the tranquility of early summer. The German armored iron tide continues to push westward, and the entire Western European front is experiencing an unprecedented, violent upheaval.]"

"[The German Guderian armored cluster, having burst from the Ardennes Forest in Belgium, has linked up with Rommel's troops moving north at the Strait of Calais. At this moment, 40 divisions of the British and French Allied forces, nearly 400,000 men, are compressed into a 60-kilometer-wide coastal triangle around Dunkirk. The only path to survival is the sea, and the German Luftwaffe is swarming toward those beaches like locusts…]"

After a burst of static, the broadcast switched to Edward R. Murrow connecting with a field reporter. After a brief report from the scene, the chimes of Big Ben echoed in the background. Edward R. Murrow began his closing statement.

"['At this hour, the lights in the London Houses of Parliament remain lit through the night. The Admiralty is requisitioning all vessels with a draft of over six feet—fishing boats, yachts, barges—they will sail toward the hellish beaches of Dunkirk. And in New York, the waves beneath the Statue of Liberty lap against the same waters where the blood and grit of Flanders now drift.']"

"['This is a night of survival and sacrifice. The gunfire at Calais is fading, and the tide at Dunkirk is rising. May God have mercy on the soldiers waiting for ships, and may He have mercy on this war-torn Europe. CBS, Edward R. Murrow, reporting from London.']"

As the closing remarks concluded, the accompanying piano piece, Chopin’s "Funeral March," faded into silence.

The piece ended, but Mark, an assistant editor at Street & Smith, had not yet recovered from Edward R. Murrow’s deep, somber tone. Although he was an isolationist, the worsening state of the war made him worry that the United States would be dragged into the conflict. If that happened, he, a young man of eligible age, would certainly not escape conscription.

"Mark, I heard some good news. The Great Depression is over! Starting tomorrow, major companies will release an unlimited number of job openings."

"Huh? My God, is that true?"

"Of course not! Focus on your work! There are plenty of people who would take your spot if you don't."

Mark’s bald superior spat as he scolded him, then walked over and took the radio away. Mark lowered his head, apologized repeatedly, and refocused on his work. If he lost this job because of daydreaming, his uncle, who had helped him get it, would certainly not use his connections to help him find another way to make a living. The war and such were all fleeting; keeping his job was the most important thing!

His work was simple: conduct an initial screening of the submitted mail. With the current poor economic climate, everyone wanted to enter the writing business, which required no capital but promised high returns, so the publishing house received many manuscripts from all over the country every day. The good news was that most authors started writing on a whim, and their skill levels were easy to distinguish at a glance, making it easy to filter out the obviously unqualified ones—some didn't even know *Astounding Stories* was a science fiction magazine and submitted serious historical manuscripts.

"Writing is crude, does not fit…"

"Structure is chaotic, even more chaotic than the French army…"

"Damn, erotica? Take it home and critique it properly…"

After suffering through mental torture, Mark handed the screened manuscripts to his superior editor—the bald man who had just scolded him. The bald man told Mark to put the manuscripts on his desk and then ordered him to brew a cup of black tea with sugar. Only then did he casually pull out a manuscript to start reading.

"Hm?"

"'Morning Dao'… that’s an interesting title."