Transcribe
Translate
Mutant, v. 2, issue 2, May 1948
Page 20
More information
digital collection
archival collection guide
transcription tips
not by atomic bombs. The weapon used was merely a super-giant block-buster -- the type the AAF has publicly 'tested' now and then since the end of the war. In addition, tons of magnesium powder were dropped on the Japanese by high-flying cargo planes just before the raid. This was not connected with the bombing, because the Japs mistook it for the usual anti-radar foil. But the combination of the huge TNT bomb and the blazing magnesium was sufficient for the ghastly destruction which ensued." "I see," said Havelock, doubtfully. "But how about Russia -- has she got an atom bomb yet -- a real one, I mean?" "The American strategists picked an 'atom-bomb' for their secret weapon in the first place," Happ replied, "because every War Department in the world had conducted research along those lines, and had to give the idea up as impossible. There were so many variable factors to be considered, that any solution would be a matter of pure chance -- and what war can wait while experiment after experiment is performed in the hope that someday the right solution will be found?" "Then she hasn't got a bomb, either?" "Think that one out for yourself." "Well, has Russia found out about this great fraud which has been perpetrated by the U.S.?" "Not yet, but she soon will." "And how," asked Havelock, "do you know this?" "Sorry," said Luther Happ, "That I can't tell you. Strictly a secret, old chap." Havelock still looked unconvinced. "Well, goodbye," Happ said. He walked out of the house. As he went down the front walk he tossed aside a newspaper he'd been carrying in his hip pocket. A playful breeze caught it, whipped the pages this way and that, and eventually piled them in a crumpled heap beneath the hedge. Three days later, as Havelock crawled down the same sidewalk on his bleeding hands and knees, while flame crackled over the ruins of his house, as over the rest of the demolished, smoking city, as the atomic cloud boiled upward to the stratosphere -- Havelock Wallace suddenly found himself staring at that crumpled newspaper, and a dim comprehension leaped into his eyes. Yes, there was the name, on page 1 -- The Daily Worker! - END - SYNTHETIC SPACEFLIGHT If you'd like the sensation of A trip to Mars by rocket, Unscrew a lighted bulb and stick Your finger in the socket Page 20
Saving...
prev
next
not by atomic bombs. The weapon used was merely a super-giant block-buster -- the type the AAF has publicly 'tested' now and then since the end of the war. In addition, tons of magnesium powder were dropped on the Japanese by high-flying cargo planes just before the raid. This was not connected with the bombing, because the Japs mistook it for the usual anti-radar foil. But the combination of the huge TNT bomb and the blazing magnesium was sufficient for the ghastly destruction which ensued." "I see," said Havelock, doubtfully. "But how about Russia -- has she got an atom bomb yet -- a real one, I mean?" "The American strategists picked an 'atom-bomb' for their secret weapon in the first place," Happ replied, "because every War Department in the world had conducted research along those lines, and had to give the idea up as impossible. There were so many variable factors to be considered, that any solution would be a matter of pure chance -- and what war can wait while experiment after experiment is performed in the hope that someday the right solution will be found?" "Then she hasn't got a bomb, either?" "Think that one out for yourself." "Well, has Russia found out about this great fraud which has been perpetrated by the U.S.?" "Not yet, but she soon will." "And how," asked Havelock, "do you know this?" "Sorry," said Luther Happ, "That I can't tell you. Strictly a secret, old chap." Havelock still looked unconvinced. "Well, goodbye," Happ said. He walked out of the house. As he went down the front walk he tossed aside a newspaper he'd been carrying in his hip pocket. A playful breeze caught it, whipped the pages this way and that, and eventually piled them in a crumpled heap beneath the hedge. Three days later, as Havelock crawled down the same sidewalk on his bleeding hands and knees, while flame crackled over the ruins of his house, as over the rest of the demolished, smoking city, as the atomic cloud boiled upward to the stratosphere -- Havelock Wallace suddenly found himself staring at that crumpled newspaper, and a dim comprehension leaped into his eyes. Yes, there was the name, on page 1 -- The Daily Worker! - END - SYNTHETIC SPACEFLIGHT If you'd like the sensation of A trip to Mars by rocket, Unscrew a lighted bulb and stick Your finger in the socket Page 20
Hevelin Fanzines
sidebar