From “one of science fiction’s grand masters” ( Library Journal ), a reissue of Ray Bradbury’s The Toynbee Convector : a collection of twenty-two stories, including the continuing saga of H.G. Wells’s time traveler and his Toynbee Convector, a ghost on the Orient Express, and a bored man who creates his own genuine Egyptian mummy. The world’s only time traveler finally reveals his secret. An old man’s memory of World War I conjures ghostly parachutists. An Egyptian mummy turns up in an Illinois cornfield. A lonely Martian prepares to face his doom. From the iconic author of Fahrenheit 451 , Something Wicked This Way Comes , The Martian Chronicles , and The Illustrated Man , The Toynbee Convector is a true cause for celebration. The twenty-two classic tales in this special Ray Bradbury collection begin in the familiar rooms and landscapes of our lives, in common thoughts and memories, and then take off into the farthest reaches of the imagination. “The fiction creates the truth in this lovely exercise in utopian dreaming” ( Publishers Weekly )—stunning stories that could only come from the brilliant mind of Ray Bradbury. Ray Bradbury (1920–2012) was the author of more than three dozen books, including Fahrenheit 451 , The Martian Chronicles , The Illustrated Man , and Something Wicked This Way Comes , as well as hundreds of short stories. He wrote for the theater, cinema, and TV, including the screenplay for John Huston’s Moby Dick and the Emmy Award–winning teleplay The Halloween Tree , and adapted for television sixty-five of his stories for The Ray Bradbury Theater . He was the recipient of the 2000 National Book Foundation’s Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters, the 2007 Pulitzer Prize Special Citation, and numerous other honors. The Toynbee Convector THE TOYNBEE CONVECTOR “Good! Great! Bravo for me!” Roger Shumway flung himself into the seat, buckled himself in, revved the rotor and drifted his Dragonfly Super-6 helicopter up to blow away on the summer sky, heading south toward La Jolla. “How lucky can you get?” For he was on his way to an incredible meeting. The time traveler, after 100 years of silence, had agreed to be interviewed. He was, on this day, 130 years old. And this afternoon, at four o’clock sharp, Pacific time, was the anniversary of his one and only journey in time. Lord, yes! One hundred years ago, Craig Bennett Stiles had waved, stepped into his Immense Clock, as he called it, and vanished from the present. He was and remained the only man in history to travel in time. And Shumway was the one and only reporter, after all these years, to be invited in for afternoon tea. And? The possible announcement of a second and final trip through time. The traveler had hinted at such a trip. “Old man,” said Shumway, “Mr. Craig Bennett Stiles—here I come!” The Dragonfly, obedient to fevers, seized a wind and rode it down the coast. The old man was there waiting for him on the roof of the Time Lamasery at the rim of the hang glider’s cliff in La Jolla. The air swarmed with crimson, blue, and lemon kites from which young men shouted, while young women called to them from the land’s edge. Stiles, for all his 130 years, was not old. His face, blinking up at the helicopter, was the bright face of one of those hang-gliding Apollo fools who veered off as the helicopter sank down. Shumway hovered his craft for a long moment, savoring the delay. Below him was a face that had dreamed architectures, known incredible loves, blueprinted mysteries of seconds, hours, days, then dived in to swim upstream through the centuries. A sunburst face, celebrating its own birthday. For on a single night, one hundred years ago, Craig Bennett Stiles, freshly returned from time, had reported by Telstar around the world to billions of viewers and told them their future. “We made it!” he said. “We did it! The future is ours. We rebuilt the cities, freshened the small towns, cleaned the lakes and rivers, washed the air, saved the dolphins, increased the whales, stopped the wars, tossed the solar stations across space to light the world, colonized the moon, moved on to Mars, then Alpha Centauri. We cured cancer and stopped death. We did it—Oh Lord, much thanks—we did it. Oh, future’s bright and beauteous spires, arise!” He showed them pictures, he brought them samples, he gave them tapes and LP records, films and sound cassettes of his wondrous roundabout flight. The world went mad with joy. It ran to meet and make that future, fling up the cities of promise, save all and share with the beasts of land and sea. The old man’s welcoming shout came up the wind. Shumway shouted back and let the Dragonfly simmer down in its own summer weather. Craig Bennett Stiles, 130 years old, strode forward briskly and, incredibly, helped the young reporter out of his craft, for Shumway was suddenly stunned and weak at this encounter. “I can’t believe I’m here,” said Shumway.