DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Wavelength, v. 1, issue 4, January-March 1942

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Wavelength, v. 1, issue 4, January-March 1942

Page 3

   "Quit talking like a movie hero," Anne said, sharply. Now she seemed antagonistic. "Get me a wet rag, fast."
   I don't know why I obeyed. God knows I was in no humor to listen to anything Anne had to say.  But, I brought the rag, [illegible] beginning over to Anne, after I suit off the kitchen-sink faucet.  
   Anne set to work massaging the Other One's face.
   "Stevie," she said - I started at the name, thinking she was addressing me, but she wasn't, as her next words go to prove - "It's up to you to do the talking and explain this fantastic affair to him."
   My wife turned to me.  "Don't do anything you'll be sorry for later, Stephen, not until you've heard his story."
   "Okay, Anne,"  I bit out, as she exited from the room.
   "Well," I grated, as the Other One sat up and groaned, "what have you to say.  And it better be good!"
   "Steve," he said, regarding me with a quizzival smile, "you see in me, yourself - fifteen years from now.  I belong to the future.  To be exact, the year, 1956!"
   "Listen, mug,"  I told him, "even though I do read and am susceptible to science-fiction stories and what some call "fantasy", I can not be taken in with that story."
   "Steve," he repeated again, "our wife died in 1943.  I lived alone here until 1955.  Then, after using my spare time to study up on science, especially Time-Theory...even you, with your peanut mind, have heard of that...I finally succeeded in building a simple mechanism, one that would propel me across the Time-Curve, back to now, the mechanism is here."  He dipped his hand into a pocket of his suit coat and brought forth a camera-like box, marked with strange dials and cabalistic figures.  "My Time-Machine."  He smiled.
   "So, with its aid, I have come back.  Back to the wife I loved in my happiest days."
   "Yeah," I smirked, "can you prove it?"  I knew I had him by the horns now.
   "Yes," he replied.  "By this!"
   He twisted a little knob on his box and vanished - yes, I said that word "vanished" -into thin air.
   At any rate, that's why I am so morbid.  That's why they all look at me so sadly here in Joe's.  I'm just a guy at the end of the bar.  
   I hate myself for loving the woman that I love, and...
   "Waiter!  Two more beers, "he bellowed.  "Two more beers...
-----:------:-----
A FORGETFUL MAN
     When Topewell thought fit from the world to retreat, 
          As full of champagne as an egg's full of meat,
     He waked in the boat, and to Charon he said,
     He would be rowed back, for he was not yet dead.
     "Trim the boat, and sit quiet," stern Charon replied:
     "You may have forgot; you were drunk when you died."

              ..  Matthew Prior  ..

SHANGRI-LA IN 1942!  FOURTH WORLD SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION TO BE HELD IN LOS ANGELES.  WRITE TO WALT DAUGHERTY, 6224 LELAND WAY,   HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA,   FOR DETAILS. JOIN THE 4TH NATIONAL STF. CONVENTION SOCIETY.

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"Quit talking like a movie hero," Anne said, sharply. Now she seemed antagonistic. "Get me a wet rag, fast." I don't know why I obeyed. God knows I was in no humor to listen to anything Anne had to say. But, I brought the rag, [illegible] beginning over to Anne, after I suit off the kitchen-sink faucet. Anne set to work massaging the Other One's face. "Stevie," she said - I started at the name, thinking she was addressing me, but she wasn't, as her next words go to prove - "It's up to you to do the talking and explain this fantastic affair to him." My wife turned to me. "Don't do anything you'll be sorry for later, Stephen, not until you've heard his story." "Okay, Anne," I bit out, as she exited from the room. "Well," I grated, as the Other One sat up and groaned, "what have you to say. And it better be good!" "Steve," he said, regarding me with a quizzival smile, "you see in me, yourself - fifteen years from now. I belong to the future. To be exact, the year, 1956!" "Listen, mug," I told him, "even though I do read and am susceptible to science-fiction stories and what some call "fantasy", I can not be taken in with that story." "Steve," he repeated again, "our wife died in 1943. I lived alone here until 1955. Then, after using my spare time to study up on science, especially Time-Theory...even you, with your peanut mind, have heard of that...I finally succeeded in building a simple mechanism, one that would propel me across the Time-Curve, back to now, the mechanism is here." He dipped his hand into a pocket of his suit coat and brought forth a camera-like box, marked with strange dials and cabalistic figures. "My Time-Machine." He smiled. "So, with its aid, I have come back. Back to the wife I loved in my happiest days." "Yeah," I smirked, "can you prove it?" I knew I had him by the horns now. "Yes," he replied. "By this!" He twisted a little knob on his box and vanished - yes, I said that word "vanished" -into thin air. At any rate, that's why I am so morbid. That's why they all look at me so sadly here in Joe's. I'm just a guy at the end of the bar. I hate myself for loving the woman that I love, and... "Waiter! Two more beers, "he bellowed. "Two more beers... -----:------:----- A FORGETFUL MAN When Topewell thought fit from the world to retreat, As full of champagne as an egg's full of meat, He waked in the boat, and to Charon he said, He would be rowed back, for he was not yet dead. "Trim the boat, and sit quiet," stern Charon replied: "You may have forgot; you were drunk when you died." .. Matthew Prior .. SHANGRI-LA IN 1942! FOURTH WORLD SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION TO BE HELD IN LOS ANGELES. WRITE TO WALT DAUGHERTY, 6224 LELAND WAY, HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA, FOR DETAILS. JOIN THE 4TH NATIONAL STF. CONVENTION SOCIETY.