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Paradox, v. 1, issue 2, Fall 1942
Page 11
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PARADOX 11 Bruce knew the moment had arrived. He stood upon a threshold that had awaited his footsteps for God-knows-how many untold millenia. Trembling, he closed the contact-plate that would allow power to trickle along the thick cables that entered the interior of the machine. Would the Time-Radio work? Or would it prove to be a fizzle, a scientist's Seward's folly? The man watched...and held his breath. Queer formless shadows shifted across the screen. The hum of racing molecules was a symphony of surrealism. Then he saw it, a mist the colors of the rainbow that formed on the screen. The mist thickened, grew more sharply defined; for a tantalizing instant, recognizable objects appeared, flickered and vanished. "Nineteen-forty-one, March!" murmured Balland to himself. "April! Ah! May!" He gasped in astonishment. It was magical! The scene mirrored on the screen was as clear as a wood-cut. And on the screen there appeared an image of himself reading a newspaper! Even before he used his distance-control, Bruce knew what that double of himself would be doing. He would be reading the sports section, of course. Hadn't he done that very thing, day in and day out, for years, the first thing in the morning? After he turned on his distance-control, he seemed to be looking over his double's shoulder. The agate-century type could be easily read from his invisible position. Bruce fastened his eyes eagerly on a column headed by the words, "Belmont Results." Under this heading were the cryptic words, "First Race--Purse:" $1200; claiming; for 4-year-olds and up; 6 furlongs." This was followed by, "Of Mice and Men, 114 (Sneade)..." Suddenly, the sharp, pungent smell of ozone penetrated to his consciousness. That meant...good Lord!...a power leak of some kind! Moving with nervous tread, he shut off his machine. Ruefully, he surveyed the tangled mass of fused wires. It would take some time to straighten them out. Oh, well, he had managed to get the information he wanted. He knew now how to make that fortune he so desperately needed for his experiments and research. Suppose he hadn't read to the end of the line? So what? The winner's name, he thought, was all that was needed. And to him, what he had read meant a lot. A horse named, "Of Mice and Men," ridden by a jockey named Sneade would win the first race at Belmont Park a race course situated in New York, on...he glanced at the time-dial of the machine...on May 29, 1941. And Bruce Balland was the gambling kind, especially if the future of his beloved research was at stake. Gamble? No, that was a misnomer for this was a sure thing..... Well before the first race, Bruce had bought five one-hundred dollar Win tickets on Of Mice and Men. When the post parade started he made his way to the grandstand. He rented some binoculars and then secured a seat where his view would be unobstructed. He was staking all on this race, and why not? His Time-Radio could not be wrong. Bruce had an unshakable
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PARADOX 11 Bruce knew the moment had arrived. He stood upon a threshold that had awaited his footsteps for God-knows-how many untold millenia. Trembling, he closed the contact-plate that would allow power to trickle along the thick cables that entered the interior of the machine. Would the Time-Radio work? Or would it prove to be a fizzle, a scientist's Seward's folly? The man watched...and held his breath. Queer formless shadows shifted across the screen. The hum of racing molecules was a symphony of surrealism. Then he saw it, a mist the colors of the rainbow that formed on the screen. The mist thickened, grew more sharply defined; for a tantalizing instant, recognizable objects appeared, flickered and vanished. "Nineteen-forty-one, March!" murmured Balland to himself. "April! Ah! May!" He gasped in astonishment. It was magical! The scene mirrored on the screen was as clear as a wood-cut. And on the screen there appeared an image of himself reading a newspaper! Even before he used his distance-control, Bruce knew what that double of himself would be doing. He would be reading the sports section, of course. Hadn't he done that very thing, day in and day out, for years, the first thing in the morning? After he turned on his distance-control, he seemed to be looking over his double's shoulder. The agate-century type could be easily read from his invisible position. Bruce fastened his eyes eagerly on a column headed by the words, "Belmont Results." Under this heading were the cryptic words, "First Race--Purse:" $1200; claiming; for 4-year-olds and up; 6 furlongs." This was followed by, "Of Mice and Men, 114 (Sneade)..." Suddenly, the sharp, pungent smell of ozone penetrated to his consciousness. That meant...good Lord!...a power leak of some kind! Moving with nervous tread, he shut off his machine. Ruefully, he surveyed the tangled mass of fused wires. It would take some time to straighten them out. Oh, well, he had managed to get the information he wanted. He knew now how to make that fortune he so desperately needed for his experiments and research. Suppose he hadn't read to the end of the line? So what? The winner's name, he thought, was all that was needed. And to him, what he had read meant a lot. A horse named, "Of Mice and Men," ridden by a jockey named Sneade would win the first race at Belmont Park a race course situated in New York, on...he glanced at the time-dial of the machine...on May 29, 1941. And Bruce Balland was the gambling kind, especially if the future of his beloved research was at stake. Gamble? No, that was a misnomer for this was a sure thing..... Well before the first race, Bruce had bought five one-hundred dollar Win tickets on Of Mice and Men. When the post parade started he made his way to the grandstand. He rented some binoculars and then secured a seat where his view would be unobstructed. He was staking all on this race, and why not? His Time-Radio could not be wrong. Bruce had an unshakable
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