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Tycho, v. 1, issue 2, November 1942

Page 13

          TOMORROW'S STARRY TRACK
                  By D.W. Boggs

   F YOU suddenly stepped into a time-fissure, and were abruptly catapulted into the year 1960, what would be the first thing you would do? Go to a library and look up the history of the intervening years? Head for the nearest spaceport (if there were any) and inspect the wonders of rocketry in that future world?
   Myself, I would immediately hunt up the nearest newsstand, and find how fantasy has fared during that gap of 18 years. I'd like to check on the accuracy of a dream I had the other day...

   It was a day-dream, to be sure, but nevertheless, quite novel and interesting. I'll let you in on it because, strangely enough, it portrayed the future of our favorite literature. Please disregard any discrepancies in time or place, for like most dreams, my vision contained some very obvious anachronisms. 

   You see, in the years that lie before, fantasy has become amazingly - astoundingly - popular. All forms of entertainment -- fiction, radio, stage and screen -- are dominated by fantasy. Colliers and Sat. Eve. Post have been shoved into Limbo by a new and tremendously popular competitor: Modern Fantasy; which claims a circulation of over 3 and one-half million. The old magazine, Astounding is also in the slick ranks, and, of course, still prints the best fiction in the field. There are about seven fantasy and stf slicks on the stands, besides numerous pulp magazines.

   Broadway boasts its usual harvest of flash-o-flesh revues, and, incredibly enough, most of them are based on science-fiction themes. A musicomedy with sequences lifted from "War Nymphs of Venus" is the hit of the decade. A new burlesqueen by the name of Martian Rose Liebowitz invents a variation of the Bubble Dance, called the Planet Prance, in which nine balloons representing the members of the Solar System circle in turn around her. The orbit of "Pluto", is, of course, tremendously wide. Among the dramas is one produced by the Mercury Theatre: The Tempest -- made into stf by the aged Orson Wells.

   The future housewife does her dishes with the living-room radio blaring out its usual stream of soap-box operas -- or weekly serials, to call them properly. However, instead of listening to Ma Perkins, on a typical morning she listens first to "Mother McGuire of Mars", then "Her Space-Patrolman Husband", "Sadie Groverngerk, Time Traveler", and in the afternoon, "Orphans of Oberon", "Veronica Schlonk, Atomic Engineer", and "Ormssk and Zyllk of Alpha Centauri XXVIX".

   Naturally, the movies are quick to stake a claim to fantasy bonanza. Among others, a super-super production produces, directed, Photographed, etc, by Orseon Welles' son (aged 9), and based on "There Shall be Darkness", is scheduled to appear in coming months. Shirley Temple has just divorced her fifth husband, plays "Quanna". Later,

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TOMORROW'S STARRY TRACK By D.W. Boggs F YOU suddenly stepped into a time-fissure, and were abruptly catapulted into the year 1960, what would be the first thing you would do? Go to a library and look up the history of the intervening years? Head for the nearest spaceport (if there were any) and inspect the wonders of rocketry in that future world? Myself, I would immediately hunt up the nearest newsstand, and find how fantasy has fared during that gap of 18 years. I'd like to check on the accuracy of a dream I had the other day... It was a day-dream, to be sure, but nevertheless, quite novel and interesting. I'll let you in on it because, strangely enough, it portrayed the future of our favorite literature. Please disregard any discrepancies in time or place, for like most dreams, my vision contained some very obvious anachronisms. You see, in the years that lie before, fantasy has become amazingly - astoundingly - popular. All forms of entertainment -- fiction, radio, stage and screen -- are dominated by fantasy. Colliers and Sat. Eve. Post have been shoved into Limbo by a new and tremendously popular competitor: Modern Fantasy; which claims a circulation of over 3 and one-half million. The old magazine, Astounding is also in the slick ranks, and, of course, still prints the best fiction in the field. There are about seven fantasy and stf slicks on the stands, besides numerous pulp magazines. Broadway boasts its usual harvest of flash-o-flesh revues, and, incredibly enough, most of them are based on science-fiction themes. A musicomedy with sequences lifted from "War Nymphs of Venus" is the hit of the decade. A new burlesqueen by the name of Martian Rose Liebowitz invents a variation of the Bubble Dance, called the Planet Prance, in which nine balloons representing the members of the Solar System circle in turn around her. The orbit of "Pluto", is, of course, tremendously wide. Among the dramas is one produced by the Mercury Theatre: The Tempest -- made into stf by the aged Orson Wells. The future housewife does her dishes with the living-room radio blaring out its usual stream of soap-box operas -- or weekly serials, to call them properly. However, instead of listening to Ma Perkins, on a typical morning she listens first to "Mother McGuire of Mars", then "Her Space-Patrolman Husband", "Sadie Groverngerk, Time Traveler", and in the afternoon, "Orphans of Oberon", "Veronica Schlonk, Atomic Engineer", and "Ormssk and Zyllk of Alpha Centauri XXVIX". Naturally, the movies are quick to stake a claim to fantasy bonanza. Among others, a super-super production produces, directed, Photographed, etc, by Orseon Welles' son (aged 9), and based on "There Shall be Darkness", is scheduled to appear in coming months. Shirley Temple has just divorced her fifth husband, plays "Quanna". Later,