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2024-01-24
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"The Little Monsters Come"Àº ·¹ÀÌ Ä¿¹Ö½º(Ray Cummings)°¡ ¾´ SF ´ÜÆí ¼Ò¼³·Î, 1938³â óÀ½ Ãâ°£µÆ´Ù. À̾߱â´Â 'ÀÛÀº ±«¹°'À̶ó ºÒ¸®´Â ÀÏ»ó »ç¹°ÀÇ Ãà¼ÒÆÇÀÌ °©Àڱ⠳ªÅ¸³ª´Â ½ÅºñÇÑ Çö»óÀ» Áß½ÉÀ¸·Î Àü°³µÈ´Ù. ÀÌ ÀÛÀº º¹Á¦Ç°Àº ±ÞÁõÇÏ°í ÀÏ»ó »ýÈ°À» ¹æÇØÇϸ鼭 È¥¶õ°ú È¥¶õÀ» ÃÊ·¡ÇÏ°Ô µÈ´Ù.
Ray Cummings(·¹ÀÌ Ä¿¹Ö½º)´Â 1887³â¿¡¼­ 1957³â±îÁö È°µ¿ÇÑ ¹Ì±¹ÀÇ °úÇÐ ¼Ò¼³ ÀÛ°¡·Î ¾Ë·ÁÁ® ÀÖ´Ù. ±×´Â °úÇÐ ¼Ò¼³, ÆÇŸÁö, ¾îµåº¥Ã³ ¼Ò¼³ µî ´Ù¾çÇÑ À帣ÀÇ ÀÛÇ°À» ½è´Ù. ±×ÀÇ ´ëÇ¥ÀÛÀ¸·Î´Â "The Girl in the Golden Atom"°ú "Brigands of the Moon"ÀÌ ÀÖ½À´Ï´Ù. ·¹ÀÌ Ä¿¸Õ½º´Â °úÇÐÀûÀÎ ¿ä¼Ò¸¦ dzºÎÇÏ°Ô ´ã¾Æ³½ ÀÛÇ°µé·Î À¯¸íÇϸç, ±×ÀÇ ±ÛÀº Ãʱ⠰úÇÐ ¼Ò¼³ÀÇ ¹ßÀü¿¡ ±â¿©ÇÑ °ÍÀ¸·Î Æò°¡¹Þ°í ÀÖ´Ù.


"The Little Monsters Come" is a science fiction short story written by Ray Cummings, first published in 1938. The story revolves around a mysterious phenomenon where miniature versions of everyday objects, called 'little monsters', suddenly appear. These tiny clones proliferate and disrupt daily life, causing chaos and confusion.
Ray Cummings is known as an American science fiction writer who worked from 1887 to 1957. He wrote works in a variety of genres, including science fiction, fantasy, and adventure novels. His representative works include ¡°The Girl in the Golden Atom¡± and ¡°Brigands of the Moon.¡± Ray Commons is famous for his works that contain a wealth of scientific elements, and his writing is credited with contributing to the development of early science fiction.

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Ç÷θ®´Ù ¿¡¹ö±Û·¹ÀÌÁîÀÇ ¹ã¿¡´Â ÀüÇô À߸øµÈ °ÍÀ̳ª ÀÌ»óÇÑ °ÍÀÌ ÀüÇô ¾ø¾ú½À´Ï´Ù. Àû¾îµµ Allen Nixon¿¡°Ô´Â ±×·¸Áö ¾Ê¾Ò½À´Ï´Ù. ±×´Â ¹Ù´ÚÀÌ ÆòÆòÇÑ ³ë Á£´Â ¹èÀÇ ¼±¹Ì¿¡ È¥ÀÚ ¾É¾Æ ÀÛÀº ³ë Çϳª¸¦ µé°í ¼Ò¸® ¾øÀÌ Á¶¿ëÈ÷ ³ë¸¦ Àú¾ú´Ù. ´ÞÀº Áö°í ÀÖ¾ú°í Å°°¡ Å« ´ÄÀº ¼Ò³ª¹«µéÀº º°ÀÌ ¹ÚÈù ÇÏ´Ã °¡¿î¿¡ °ËÀº Âõ±è°ú ´«¹°ÀÌ ³Ê¹« ¸¹¾Ò½À´Ï´Ù. º°µéÀº ±¸ºÒ±¸ºÒÇÑ ´ËÀÇ À¯¸® Ç¥¸é¿¡ ºÒŸ¿À¸£´Â ÇÉ Æ÷ÀÎÆ®¸¦ ¶³¾î¶ß·È½À´Ï´Ù. ¶§·Î »çÀÌÇÁ·¯½º °¡Áö°¡ ¹«°Ì°Ô ¹°¿¡ Á¥¾î ¾ôÈù µÏÀº ±×¸²ÀÚó·³ Èå·ÁÁ® ´ËÀÌ ±×µé »çÀÌ¿¡ ²¿ÀÎ ¸®º»Ã³·³ º¸¿´½À´Ï´Ù.

Summary
There was absolutely nothing wrong or weird about the Florida Everglades at night. At least, not to Allen Nixon. He sat alone in the stern of a flat-bottomed rowboat paddling calmly, albeit soundlessly, with one small oar. The moon was down and the tall old pines were so many black rips and tears in the star-studded gown of the sky. The stars themselves dropped their fiery pin-points in the glassy surface of the winding bayou. The tangled banks, where sometimes the cypress branches dipped heavy and sodden into the water, were shadowed blurs so that the bayou was a twisted ribbon between them.