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Phantagraph, v. 6, issue 4, August 1937
Page 3
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THE PHANTAGRAPH traveller, he the fearless voyager of the stars. And he was Man. Man. Man shorn of his bonds. Man freed of his ties to his little ball of sod. Man freed emotionally from his mental bonds of millenia past. Freed of the agonies and hatreds of histories gone past. Shattered at last the ties to aeons of misery and suffering, aeons of mad fighting and futile unceasing battles against the petty squabbles of a petty world. The wars, the sicknesses of body and spirit, the incredibly petty economies, the grinding monotony of work and sleep, of birth and death with nought between but drudgery. All gone, cut short in one fell stroke by he who was the first to tear aside the chain of gravity to hurl his little but mighty mass through the endless voids towards the prize that dangled eternally before the eyes of man. The space-voyager smiled quietly in his little cabin. In his eyes the lights of starts and ebon lightlessness of void gave proof alike that he was free. Free to wander forever the universe that was his. For him no four corners and seven winds. For him, an infinity of corners, an infinity of worlds and homes, infinite riches and infinite resources, the universe was Man's, the universe and all that went with it. Life forever. And with life, happiness. Legions of men would live and breath in the airs of a thousand ripe rich worlds, and live to the fullness the happiness and throbbing pleasure of untrammelled life. Of lives without misery, with work yes, but work for progress, work for enjoyment, work for further power and further benefits, work in cleanliness and vitality. This is the promise of science, and this the ultimate fulfillment. The space-flier smiled, a grim smile of victory and
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THE PHANTAGRAPH traveller, he the fearless voyager of the stars. And he was Man. Man. Man shorn of his bonds. Man freed of his ties to his little ball of sod. Man freed emotionally from his mental bonds of millenia past. Freed of the agonies and hatreds of histories gone past. Shattered at last the ties to aeons of misery and suffering, aeons of mad fighting and futile unceasing battles against the petty squabbles of a petty world. The wars, the sicknesses of body and spirit, the incredibly petty economies, the grinding monotony of work and sleep, of birth and death with nought between but drudgery. All gone, cut short in one fell stroke by he who was the first to tear aside the chain of gravity to hurl his little but mighty mass through the endless voids towards the prize that dangled eternally before the eyes of man. The space-voyager smiled quietly in his little cabin. In his eyes the lights of starts and ebon lightlessness of void gave proof alike that he was free. Free to wander forever the universe that was his. For him no four corners and seven winds. For him, an infinity of corners, an infinity of worlds and homes, infinite riches and infinite resources, the universe was Man's, the universe and all that went with it. Life forever. And with life, happiness. Legions of men would live and breath in the airs of a thousand ripe rich worlds, and live to the fullness the happiness and throbbing pleasure of untrammelled life. Of lives without misery, with work yes, but work for progress, work for enjoyment, work for further power and further benefits, work in cleanliness and vitality. This is the promise of science, and this the ultimate fulfillment. The space-flier smiled, a grim smile of victory and
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