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Fantasy Aspects, issue 1, May 1947
Page 21
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"No. Except that I could moralize on the forbidding of this and that and show how society would be benefitted by open research on any and all subjects. But, I suppose it wouldn't do any good," ended Brad resignedly. "I'm afraid," said the Judge coldly, "that in this court we are only interested in facts...not your individual opinions or upon the righteousness of the law...Take him away. The sentence will be carried out tonight at nine o'clock...and...Ahem." He then cleared his throat and finished faceteously, "May God have mercy on your Soul." Promptly at five minutes of nine, Brad was in the grim chamber with five guards, the executioner, and a Captain of the Prison Guards. All was in readiness, all awaited the inexorable ticking of the big clock overhead. In what was probably the last minute of his life, Brad's analytical mind noticed the peculiar structure of the transparent walls enclosing him; they were grainy and extremely thick. Overhead out of reach was a funnel shaped object, from which, he supposed, came the disintegrating emanations. There was nothing to sit on because the lethal radiations would consume anything that wasn't made of the same impervious substance the walls were. One half of one minute to go! Tense, nervous, and determined not to show cowardice, Brad watched the men in the room. The Cap had an eye on the clock and one arm raised, ready to give the signal. The executioner was out of sight behind some encased machinery. Three of the guards looked at him, one looked at the Captain, the other at the unseen man at the switch. Varying emotions were written on their faces; pity, indifference, sadism, curiousness, and wonder as to what his, Brad's, thoughts would be as the end approached. The clock's inexorable hands clicked over to nine, the Captain's arm dropped and Brad felt a curious, tingling sensation; then utter and complete blackness overcame him. When he awoke, he found himself lying in a deep crater-like pit, and the gravel was biting into him. He arose and looked down at himself, half expecting to see nothing or a nebulous body. He was exactly the same, he slapped his thigh and felt the sting of it. Accepting the fact of his miraculous deliverance from the jaws of death, he began to wonder what had gone wrong. Where was he now? How did he get here? These questions and others began to disturb the numbness of his mind. After pondering and puzzling futilely, he gave up in disgust and climbed out of the deep pit. Surrounding him was a forest of strange, gnarled, and stunted trees, the like of which he had never seen before. The sky was a deep blue, and the sun overhead shone hotly down upon him, and it in some manner looked larger than it should have. There was a sign in the immediate foreground that announced, "This way to Grenoble." He followed the path indicated. It twisted and turned through the woods, and twice it skirted huge craters like the one he had arrived in a short time ago. Suddenly a voice shouted, "Stop!" He turned sharply, startled, for the voice sounded like the crack of a pistol in the stillness of the forest. A man came out of the woods, and looked Brad over carefully as he approached. "Just arrive?" he asked. "Why yes, yes, but where have I arriven?" Ronson smiled. And wryly, "Who are you?" ---( Page 21 )---
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"No. Except that I could moralize on the forbidding of this and that and show how society would be benefitted by open research on any and all subjects. But, I suppose it wouldn't do any good," ended Brad resignedly. "I'm afraid," said the Judge coldly, "that in this court we are only interested in facts...not your individual opinions or upon the righteousness of the law...Take him away. The sentence will be carried out tonight at nine o'clock...and...Ahem." He then cleared his throat and finished faceteously, "May God have mercy on your Soul." Promptly at five minutes of nine, Brad was in the grim chamber with five guards, the executioner, and a Captain of the Prison Guards. All was in readiness, all awaited the inexorable ticking of the big clock overhead. In what was probably the last minute of his life, Brad's analytical mind noticed the peculiar structure of the transparent walls enclosing him; they were grainy and extremely thick. Overhead out of reach was a funnel shaped object, from which, he supposed, came the disintegrating emanations. There was nothing to sit on because the lethal radiations would consume anything that wasn't made of the same impervious substance the walls were. One half of one minute to go! Tense, nervous, and determined not to show cowardice, Brad watched the men in the room. The Cap had an eye on the clock and one arm raised, ready to give the signal. The executioner was out of sight behind some encased machinery. Three of the guards looked at him, one looked at the Captain, the other at the unseen man at the switch. Varying emotions were written on their faces; pity, indifference, sadism, curiousness, and wonder as to what his, Brad's, thoughts would be as the end approached. The clock's inexorable hands clicked over to nine, the Captain's arm dropped and Brad felt a curious, tingling sensation; then utter and complete blackness overcame him. When he awoke, he found himself lying in a deep crater-like pit, and the gravel was biting into him. He arose and looked down at himself, half expecting to see nothing or a nebulous body. He was exactly the same, he slapped his thigh and felt the sting of it. Accepting the fact of his miraculous deliverance from the jaws of death, he began to wonder what had gone wrong. Where was he now? How did he get here? These questions and others began to disturb the numbness of his mind. After pondering and puzzling futilely, he gave up in disgust and climbed out of the deep pit. Surrounding him was a forest of strange, gnarled, and stunted trees, the like of which he had never seen before. The sky was a deep blue, and the sun overhead shone hotly down upon him, and it in some manner looked larger than it should have. There was a sign in the immediate foreground that announced, "This way to Grenoble." He followed the path indicated. It twisted and turned through the woods, and twice it skirted huge craters like the one he had arrived in a short time ago. Suddenly a voice shouted, "Stop!" He turned sharply, startled, for the voice sounded like the crack of a pistol in the stillness of the forest. A man came out of the woods, and looked Brad over carefully as he approached. "Just arrive?" he asked. "Why yes, yes, but where have I arriven?" Ronson smiled. And wryly, "Who are you?" ---( Page 21 )---
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