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Funtasy, v. 1, issue 1, Spring 1939

Page 11

FUNTASY        Page 11

A FAN GOES TO HYPER-SPACE
            -by Jim Avery

(The following mind-staggering report of my recent journey to and from the world of hyper-space and the amazaing fan conditions I found there, is presented here in full for the first time.)        (Author's note)

                          First "Chaw"

As it is quite natural for things and events to have beginnings, my late adventures in the fan world of hyper-space all began one day only four months ago! I had just read Wiggin's amazing document in Bob Tucker's D'JOURNAL--and I was mad--plenty mad! Not only was I blindly jealous of Wiggins for having the covetous distinction of being the one to discover the underground monsters, but also mad at myself for having fainted. But let me state right here and now that I was not afraid! I--er, merely fainted for the publicity! But what was probably the worse of all, the people from the deep had fled back down their tunnel, (I won't repeat why!!), thus losing us the glorious opportunity of converting hundreds or maybe thousands of new fans to science-fiction!

Without delay I set about at once to construct a machine that would whisk me to them---. Hastily collecting a few tons of junk--er I mean "parts", I retreated to my laboratory (I think that's spelt with a "b") wherein lies also the great rotary press that spews FUNTASY forth to the waiting world.

For a steady forty-eight hour week I slaved, welding the massive plates, valves, and peanut whistles into position. Unlike Wiggins, my wife did not think she was a divorcee, for four reasons: (1.) She doesn't know what the word means, (2.) she can't pronounce it, (3.) she hasn't enough brains to think, and (4.) I haven't a wife anyway!

But back to my "machine" again. Its great bulk of shining steel spotted here and there with myriad copper coils and power cables filled nearly half of the entire room. At its foremost end was a large conical tunnel banked with rows of vacuum tubes. It was into this mysterious maw that I must step in order to be transferred to the under-ground lands of Patagonia, wherein I would find Wiggin's men",--or so I thought!

    -Second Mouthfull-
However, before venturing into the cone, I had decided to take along with me a copy of each of the latest professional and fan magazines with which I could pursue my missionary endeavours. Gathering these together, I placed the resulting huge bundle in the further end of the cone to await my coming. (The power of course was not then on.) Then I went to dinner, with a zealous desire to eat my fill of ordinary food, because G.O.K. what kind of foreign goulash I'd come across during my self-imposed exile in the underworlds.

An hour later found me well fortified by a substantial New England dinner, and ready to do or die for dear old science-fiction. Then, munching a banana, I nonchalantly meandered out to the lab. in preparation for striking my blow for the fantasy cause.

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FUNTASY Page 11 A FAN GOES TO HYPER-SPACE -by Jim Avery (The following mind-staggering report of my recent journey to and from the world of hyper-space and the amazaing fan conditions I found there, is presented here in full for the first time.) (Author's note) First "Chaw" As it is quite natural for things and events to have beginnings, my late adventures in the fan world of hyper-space all began one day only four months ago! I had just read Wiggin's amazing document in Bob Tucker's D'JOURNAL--and I was mad--plenty mad! Not only was I blindly jealous of Wiggins for having the covetous distinction of being the one to discover the underground monsters, but also mad at myself for having fainted. But let me state right here and now that I was not afraid! I--er, merely fainted for the publicity! But what was probably the worse of all, the people from the deep had fled back down their tunnel, (I won't repeat why!!), thus losing us the glorious opportunity of converting hundreds or maybe thousands of new fans to science-fiction! Without delay I set about at once to construct a machine that would whisk me to them---. Hastily collecting a few tons of junk--er I mean "parts", I retreated to my laboratory (I think that's spelt with a "b") wherein lies also the great rotary press that spews FUNTASY forth to the waiting world. For a steady forty-eight hour week I slaved, welding the massive plates, valves, and peanut whistles into position. Unlike Wiggins, my wife did not think she was a divorcee, for four reasons: (1.) She doesn't know what the word means, (2.) she can't pronounce it, (3.) she hasn't enough brains to think, and (4.) I haven't a wife anyway! But back to my "machine" again. Its great bulk of shining steel spotted here and there with myriad copper coils and power cables filled nearly half of the entire room. At its foremost end was a large conical tunnel banked with rows of vacuum tubes. It was into this mysterious maw that I must step in order to be transferred to the under-ground lands of Patagonia, wherein I would find Wiggin's men",--or so I thought! -Second Mouthfull- However, before venturing into the cone, I had decided to take along with me a copy of each of the latest professional and fan magazines with which I could pursue my missionary endeavours. Gathering these together, I placed the resulting huge bundle in the further end of the cone to await my coming. (The power of course was not then on.) Then I went to dinner, with a zealous desire to eat my fill of ordinary food, because G.O.K. what kind of foreign goulash I'd come across during my self-imposed exile in the underworlds. An hour later found me well fortified by a substantial New England dinner, and ready to do or die for dear old science-fiction. Then, munching a banana, I nonchalantly meandered out to the lab. in preparation for striking my blow for the fantasy cause.