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Spacewarp, v. 3, issue 4, July 1948
Page 19
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a quantity in the original Wolfgang Equation and built his entire theory on a false assumption!" "What!" "It's all in the latest issue of Science Journal. By the time your story hits print every fan from here to Kokomo will laugh himself sick at your doubletalk about hyperspacial matrix plasticity!" I was already on my feet, looking wildly around the dimly-lit tav-ern for Joe. "Where is that guy?" I yelled. "I gotta get back my manu-script before he mails it!" Just then Joe entered the green swinging doors. I rushed up to him frantically. "Joe! Joe! Did you--" "Worried about your story, Bud?" asked Joe, smiling cheerfully. "Relax, Bud. I put it in the mail-slot with my own hands. You got noth-ing to worry about." "Morgan! What'll I do?" I wailed. "Either the thing will get into print and I'll be disgraced for life, or they'll catch it before the mag goes to press and toss it in the wastebasket. Either way, I'm sunk!" "This," said Morgan Botts, "is the time for action." He slid back his chair, rose to his feet, picked up a beer and drained it in one mighty gulp. "Come along, Bud," he said, hustling me out into the twilit street. "Where are we going?" I panted, trying to keep up with his swift strides. "To your place," he said. "You've got a carbon of that manuscript, haven't you?" "Yeah -- but it's too late to get it into the mail, and--" "Don't worry, just leave everything to me," said Botts, pulling me along a bit faster. The next three hours were the most hectic
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a quantity in the original Wolfgang Equation and built his entire theory on a false assumption!" "What!" "It's all in the latest issue of Science Journal. By the time your story hits print every fan from here to Kokomo will laugh himself sick at your doubletalk about hyperspacial matrix plasticity!" I was already on my feet, looking wildly around the dimly-lit tav-ern for Joe. "Where is that guy?" I yelled. "I gotta get back my manu-script before he mails it!" Just then Joe entered the green swinging doors. I rushed up to him frantically. "Joe! Joe! Did you--" "Worried about your story, Bud?" asked Joe, smiling cheerfully. "Relax, Bud. I put it in the mail-slot with my own hands. You got noth-ing to worry about." "Morgan! What'll I do?" I wailed. "Either the thing will get into print and I'll be disgraced for life, or they'll catch it before the mag goes to press and toss it in the wastebasket. Either way, I'm sunk!" "This," said Morgan Botts, "is the time for action." He slid back his chair, rose to his feet, picked up a beer and drained it in one mighty gulp. "Come along, Bud," he said, hustling me out into the twilit street. "Where are we going?" I panted, trying to keep up with his swift strides. "To your place," he said. "You've got a carbon of that manuscript, haven't you?" "Yeah -- but it's too late to get it into the mail, and--" "Don't worry, just leave everything to me," said Botts, pulling me along a bit faster. The next three hours were the most hectic
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