Edmond Hamilton's(1904-1977 ) The Man Who Evolved (1931) presents a particular type of science fiction that in its most evolved form (sic) consist mostly of a middle-brow version of the info-dump so common on those early pulp days: A story told through talk or thought, with little actual action shown. It might seem like a cardinal sin; after all, we are told so often show and not tell; but not only does this type of story often reach heights like James Tipree Jr's(1915-1987) And I Awoke and Found Me Here on the Cold Hill's Side (1972), it has illustrious forbears in the so-called serious mainstream literature. Much of the existentialist literature, from its roots in the work of Fyodor Dostoyevsky(1821-1881) through Albert Camus(1913-1960) and forward, is of this type. So, we might well forgive and applaud. Yet, this telling instead of showing is still a weakness. It's the weakness of an idea confined to a too little a space - and, admittedly, a weakness in the