Chapter 3: I Choose You, Science Fiction!

Enni’s heart fluttered for a moment but quickly settled. The 1940s were truly the golden age of American literature, and here in New York, the “Capital of the World,” encountering a future giant of science fiction was nothing unusual.

In fact, after the Führer launched the war, many writers and artists from Germany, as well as from Britain and France, fled to the United States to escape the turmoil. So, beyond native American authors, there were likely many literary masters residing in the country at that time.

With this thought, a surge of ambition welled up inside Enni’s heart. The era of pioneering and breaking new ground was always the most exhilarating.

“Are you reading a science fiction magazine?” Enni glanced at the magazine Asimov was holding. The cover bore the title *Amazing Stories*.

As a literature enthusiast, Enni naturally knew this magazine. It was the world’s first purely science fiction periodical, founded in 1926 by Hugo Gernsback, the father of American science fiction magazines (the Hugo Awards were established in 1953 to honor him). Later, under the legendary editor John W. Campbell, it became a best-selling magazine and the core battleground of the Golden Age of Science Fiction.

Famous science fiction luminaries like Asimov, Heinlein, and Arthur C. Clarke were, quite frankly, all protégés of John W. Campbell.

“Do you also enjoy science fiction literature?” Upon hearing the word “science fiction,” Asimov immediately looked up, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

As the saying goes, kindred spirits are hard to find. Especially in an era when science fiction was considered “lowbrow literature,” meeting someone who shared a love for it was as rare as seeing two men kiss on the street.

“Actually, I’m planning to write myself,” Enni smiled. He had been pondering what kind of short story to write, and after meeting Asimov, he had made up his mind: it would be science fiction.

After all, compared to the literary demands of many short story magazines, Enni preferred works with strong storytelling. Besides, the literary journals generally had their roster of established, famous writers.

For example, renowned short story publications like *The Atlantic Monthly* and *Harper’s* published works by already celebrated literary giants such as Hemingway, Bishop, and John Steinbeck. Meanwhile, elite publications like *The New Yorker* accepted unsolicited submissions at a rate below one percent and mostly relied on commissioned pieces.

As a fledgling newcomer, Enni decided it was better to choose a less competitive path.

“That’s wonderful! Maybe we can exchange ideas about writing,” Asimov said eagerly. “To be honest, I’ve had three stories published in magazines already. But when I first started submitting, I was rejected nine times before getting anything accepted. Writing stories really requires perseverance.”

When the topic turned to literature, Asimov immediately became talkative, with no trace of social anxiety.

The woman in the shop wearing an apron—Asimov’s mother, Anna—watched her son animatedly chatting, neglecting the business, and could only smile wryly. She knew her son loved literature and that it was rare for him to meet a like-minded person. Besides, there weren’t many customers at the moment, so she let him be.

Of course, the most important reason was that her son was making money through his writing. This year’s tuition for Columbia University’s graduate school was even paid from his story royalties.

If she tried to stop him from pursuing literature, she’d be utterly foolish.

Asimov seemed to have opened a floodgate, sharing tales of his submissions. Pausing to swallow, he then asked Enni, “What kind of story do you plan to write? Do you have a rough outline?”

“If I had to say... I want to combine science fiction with romanticism.”

“Romanticism?” Asimov raised an eyebrow, curious. Since his latest story explored the ethics between humans and robots, he naturally thought of the classic robot-love ethical tales.

“That’s not what I mean—something beyond grounded, realistic science fiction world-building,” Enni explained. “I want to think more expansively. For instance, imagine if one day an omniscient, omnipotent alien came to Earth and declared to all humans: You can obtain the answers to any question you desire, but it will cost you your life. Would you be willing to pay that price?”

Before Enni finished, the quick-witted Asimov slammed the table with a bang.

“That’s an incredibly intriguing idea! If it were me, I’d definitely be willing! Knowing whether humanity will dominate the galaxy ten thousand years from now would be worth my life.”

As he spoke, Asimov scratched his head, contemplating the idea. His own works had always been rooted in rigorous extrapolations of future technology, focusing on the ethics of science fiction—essentially, how technology shapes civilization.

It was the first time he’d heard someone elevate the scale to civilization itself, setting the story against the backdrop of the entire universe.

After some thought, Asimov mused, “It’s a great idea but tricky to handle. It easily becomes vague and turns into an unrigorous ‘fairy tale’ rather than true science fiction.”

“But if done well, a story with this framework could showcase the grandeur of the cosmos and the insignificance of humanity in a truly breathtaking way!”

“I’m confident I could write it well,” Enni said with a faint smile, already drafting a mental outline inspired by Liu Cixin’s *Morning Heard the Way*.

With a blueprint like that, he naturally felt confident. The only question was whether the people of this era could accept such a transcendent science fiction story.

It was a leap from the public’s current discussions on “technology’s impact on civilization” straight to a “romanticism-centered hardcore sci-fi epic.”

“Still, the two world wars in the last thirty years have left a profound psychological impact on the public.”

“If I could perfectly capture the desolation in Liu’s work, mixed with a hint of the enduring warmth unique to human civilization... I wouldn’t worry about sales.”

“Reading is about emotional release, and that doesn’t always mean optimistic stories. Grand, tragic tales work just as well—like how a heartbroken person finds comfort in hearing stories of even greater heartbreak.”

Muttering these thoughts inwardly, Enni felt assured enough to return home and start writing this story.

“When you finish it, you must show it to me,” Asimov said, eyes shining as if Enni were about to hand him a fortune. He paused, then asked, “By the way, what should I call you?”

“Enni Riser.”

“Enni, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Isaac said, then shyly gave his own name. Once the topic of science fiction was out of the way, his social anxiety seemed to return.

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