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Citadel, only six men were alive there. PanAsia has just completed the total conquest of the United States, and the men are despondent. The scientists have just discovered and begun exploring three new spectra beyond the electromagnetic—the electrogravitic, the magnetogravitic and the electromagnetogravitic. These could create seeming miracles—levitation, simple transmutation, instant cure of any germ- or virus-caused disease, etc. No one knows what to do with them. But Ardmore, with an advertising man's imagination, suggests the start of a new "religion," since the PanAsians do not interfere with the religions of the "slaves."
    And with the new science and enough mumbo-jumbo, they go forth to bedazzle, frustrate, and drive the PanAsians back to their homelands. (This was Heinlein's first full novel.)
    September 16, 1941: Robert A. Heinlein to John W. Campbell, Jr.
    My own work —I am taking you at your word that "Creation Took Eight Days" ["Goldfish Bowl"] can be fixed up to sell to you in either one of two ways, by changing the ending or by changing the earlier part to make the ending less of a surprise. Of the two I prefer to change the earlier part; otherwise it is a completely different story and not my kind of a story. I have never written a World-Saver story of the usual formula, because I don't believe in them. Even in "Sixth Column" I was careful to point out that the job was just started and never would be finished. This particular story was intended to give an entirely fresh angle on the invasion-by-alien-intelligence theme. So far as I know, every such story has alien intelligences which treat humans as approximate equals, either as friends or as foes. It is assumed that A-I will either be friends, anxious to communicate and trade, or enemies who will fight and kill, or possibly enslave, the human race. There is another and much more humiliating possibility—alien intelligences so superior to us and so indifferent to us as to be almost unaware of us. They do not even covet the surface of the planet where we live—they live in the stratosphere. We do not know whether they evolved here or elsewhere—will never know. Our mightiest engineering structures they regard as we regard coral formations, i.e., seldom noticed and considered of no importance. We aren't even nuisances to them. And they are no threat to us, except that their "engineering" might occasionally disturb our habitat, as the grading done for a highway disturbs gopher holes.
    Some few of them might study us casually—or might not. Some odd duck among them might keep a few of us as pets. That was what happened to my hero. He got too nosy around one of their activities, was captured, and by pure luck was kept as a pet instead of being stepped on. In time he understood his predicament, except in one respect—he never did realize to its full bitterness that the human race could not even fight these creatures. He was simply a goldfish in a bowl—who cares about the opinions of a helpless goldfish? I have a fish pond in my patio. Perhaps those fish hate me bitterly and have sworn to destroy me. I won't even suspect it—I'll lose no sleep over it. And it seems to me that the most esoteric knowledge of science would not enable those fish to harm me. I am indifferent to them and invulnerable.
    I used a working title of "Goldfish Bowl" but changed it because, in my opinion, it tipped the story. Now it appears that you want the story tipped more quickly. Perhaps the working title is almost the only change it needs. In any case, John, you habitually give the key idea of a story in the blurbs—sometimes, I think, to the detriment of the dramatic punch of a story. That was my reaction to the blurbing on "By His Bootstraps." (But you're the editor! I ain't complaining; I'm expressing an opinion.) I'll look the story over in a day or two and try to see where I can do some planting in the early part. If you have any specific ideas, please mention them right