In 1970 I acquired a copy of Robert Silverberg’s “The Science Fiction Hall of Fame ( v. I )”. I was a child. Because I could already read with better comprehension than many adults, that small stack of dirty leaves was just as provocative, powerful, and astonishing as an alien artifact. And it was more useful, more like me, and more easily comprehended. It didn’t merely remake my mind. It started a cascade of evolutionary surges that has not only failed to languish, it has consistently gained momentum, depth, and applicability over the years. If aliens or other intelligences wanted to reach human minds, they would do it through the profound curiosity and creativity of authors like those included here, and in 1970 stories such as these might as well have been alien intelligence accelerators as far as my mind and future were concerned. It’s 2013. I have that book in my hand and am reading it again. Last time I was a child. Now, I am more than all of science and all of fiction. And the book still works.