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Spacewarp, v. 3, issue 4, July 1948
Page 20
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"Aw, nuts," said Botts gruffly. "I remember how I felt about my own first story. You sit down and have a beer while I fix things." I watched him step thru the Temporal Disc, then fished myself a plastican of suds from the coolex and sipped thoughtfully as I waited for his return. Eventually he reappeared, a triumphant smile on his dissipated features. "All taken care of, Bud," he announced, tossing the retreived envelope on a chair. "Fish me out a beer." It was almost an hour later when a sudden chilling thought struck me. I set my half-empty plastican on the floor beside the others and bent a panic-stricken gaze on Morgan Botts. "Botts," I said. "I just happened to think..." "Yeah?" asked Botts encouragingly, brushing a trace of foam off his white mustache. "Back in the tavern -- when I handed the envelope to Joe --" "I remember. What about it?" "Botts! I remember feeling that envelope -- and the manuscript was on stiff paper!" "Nonsense!" said Botts. "You're letting your imagination run away with you. Here -- look at this manuscript I brought back. See if it isn't the original." With trembling fingers I tore open the heavy manila. Sure enough, it contained a thick sheaf of bond paper. I gave a sigh of relief -- but then I withdrew the sheets from their envelope, and uttered a cry of horror. The paper was blank. "Incredible!" murmured Botts, gazing at the virgin pages. "Do you realize, Bud, that this vindicates Weber's theory of Self-Annihilating Paradoxes after all?" "Ghu drench Weber's theory!" I yelled. "What happened to my story?" "Unfortunately," said Morgan Botts, "I'm afraid your story has vanished somewhere in hyperspace, or perhaps hypertime. Tsk -- both copies too. It looks, Bud, as if you not only have to crash the promags all over again -- you also have the job of explaining to an editor just how you happened to mail him a fat envelope full of blank second-sheets!" - END - Do you live in or around Michigan? Do you enjoy Sunday-afternoon bullsessions devoted to stf and allied topics? Then, you should be a member of: THE MICHIGAN SCIENCE FANTASY SOCIETY [Image of lower peninsula] $1.00 is a year's dues, and includes a subscription to THE MUTANT, the Official Organ of the MSFS (Non-members may also subscribe to THE MUTANT -- 10c per copy. 50c for six.) Write: GEORGE YOUNG 32180 Middlebelt, Box 384, Farmington, Michigan.
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"Aw, nuts," said Botts gruffly. "I remember how I felt about my own first story. You sit down and have a beer while I fix things." I watched him step thru the Temporal Disc, then fished myself a plastican of suds from the coolex and sipped thoughtfully as I waited for his return. Eventually he reappeared, a triumphant smile on his dissipated features. "All taken care of, Bud," he announced, tossing the retreived envelope on a chair. "Fish me out a beer." It was almost an hour later when a sudden chilling thought struck me. I set my half-empty plastican on the floor beside the others and bent a panic-stricken gaze on Morgan Botts. "Botts," I said. "I just happened to think..." "Yeah?" asked Botts encouragingly, brushing a trace of foam off his white mustache. "Back in the tavern -- when I handed the envelope to Joe --" "I remember. What about it?" "Botts! I remember feeling that envelope -- and the manuscript was on stiff paper!" "Nonsense!" said Botts. "You're letting your imagination run away with you. Here -- look at this manuscript I brought back. See if it isn't the original." With trembling fingers I tore open the heavy manila. Sure enough, it contained a thick sheaf of bond paper. I gave a sigh of relief -- but then I withdrew the sheets from their envelope, and uttered a cry of horror. The paper was blank. "Incredible!" murmured Botts, gazing at the virgin pages. "Do you realize, Bud, that this vindicates Weber's theory of Self-Annihilating Paradoxes after all?" "Ghu drench Weber's theory!" I yelled. "What happened to my story?" "Unfortunately," said Morgan Botts, "I'm afraid your story has vanished somewhere in hyperspace, or perhaps hypertime. Tsk -- both copies too. It looks, Bud, as if you not only have to crash the promags all over again -- you also have the job of explaining to an editor just how you happened to mail him a fat envelope full of blank second-sheets!" - END - Do you live in or around Michigan? Do you enjoy Sunday-afternoon bullsessions devoted to stf and allied topics? Then, you should be a member of: THE MICHIGAN SCIENCE FANTASY SOCIETY [Image of lower peninsula] $1.00 is a year's dues, and includes a subscription to THE MUTANT, the Official Organ of the MSFS (Non-members may also subscribe to THE MUTANT -- 10c per copy. 50c for six.) Write: GEORGE YOUNG 32180 Middlebelt, Box 384, Farmington, Michigan.
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