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Paradox, v. 1, issue 1, Summer 1942
Page 12
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He lifted himself through the trap-door and walked shakily to the controls. His eyes opened wide, and his hands clutched at his shirt. The million dial had stopped at 100! And that was its limit. It might have stopped long before he had reached the cyclotron. The window--where was he? He pressed a button and the milky white window became trans-parent. Outside was--nothing! Just a blank expanse. The sun was gone. Terra was no long-er beneath him; he was floating in space, perhaps countless millions of years in the future. Shelton rubbed the window with his sleeve, knowing all the while that the glass was not at fault. Everything had disappeared: the earth, the planets, the sun, the stars, everything! Shelton dropped back into his chair, passed a hand over his brow. Then he giggled senselessly. Louder, and louder grew his laugh-ter. Tears streamed down his pallid checks. Suddenly, his laughter ceased. His face became contorted in a vicious snarl. He leaped to the window, beat at it with his hands. His action was futile, for the glass was thick. His eyes caught sight of the bronze lever. A cun-ning smile crossed his face. He picked up the lever, whirled, and threw the metal rod at the window with all his strength. A small crack appeared in the window; in the center, a small hole. There was a hiss as the air started to escape. Miles Shelton threw back his head and filled the air of his tiny room with insane laughter. And the air leaked slowly from the sphere. In the center of the universe floated the time machine, infinitesmally small; a minute golden egg, suspended in a gigantic wholly empty universe. THE END [ a picture of a boy sitting in a chair, looking in to the void. He is holding a small rod. ]
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He lifted himself through the trap-door and walked shakily to the controls. His eyes opened wide, and his hands clutched at his shirt. The million dial had stopped at 100! And that was its limit. It might have stopped long before he had reached the cyclotron. The window--where was he? He pressed a button and the milky white window became trans-parent. Outside was--nothing! Just a blank expanse. The sun was gone. Terra was no long-er beneath him; he was floating in space, perhaps countless millions of years in the future. Shelton rubbed the window with his sleeve, knowing all the while that the glass was not at fault. Everything had disappeared: the earth, the planets, the sun, the stars, everything! Shelton dropped back into his chair, passed a hand over his brow. Then he giggled senselessly. Louder, and louder grew his laugh-ter. Tears streamed down his pallid checks. Suddenly, his laughter ceased. His face became contorted in a vicious snarl. He leaped to the window, beat at it with his hands. His action was futile, for the glass was thick. His eyes caught sight of the bronze lever. A cun-ning smile crossed his face. He picked up the lever, whirled, and threw the metal rod at the window with all his strength. A small crack appeared in the window; in the center, a small hole. There was a hiss as the air started to escape. Miles Shelton threw back his head and filled the air of his tiny room with insane laughter. And the air leaked slowly from the sphere. In the center of the universe floated the time machine, infinitesmally small; a minute golden egg, suspended in a gigantic wholly empty universe. THE END [ a picture of a boy sitting in a chair, looking in to the void. He is holding a small rod. ]
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