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Fantascience Digest, v. 3, issue 1, whole no. 12, January-February 1940

Page 23

FANTASCIENCE DIGEST                   Page 23

ponded, "so just what is your gadget?"

   "I don't know yet. I'm working on that now."

   "Why don't you adjust that vaporizer there and convert it into a thermo-couple dish-washer?" suggested Crane, always the practical one of the two.

   Seaton shook his head dispiritedly.

   "It's a bit too heavy for that. Weighs six tons, you know."

   "Well, how about a handy-dandy egg-beater, then?"

   Dick snapped his fingers excitedly, and his large white teeth flashed as he smiled. 

   "By George, I think you've got something there, Mart! I'll try it out at home on the range."

   "Oh, have you got a range?"

   "No, but with my new automatic range-finder I thought-----"

   "Always the dreamer," commented Martin Crane sarcastically, as her turned to his own experiment disgustedly. He was designing a super-electric blast furnace capable of generating a temperature of 1,000,000,001 degrees, and was perspiring slight. "It always exasperates me how that one degree crept into the contruction of my 1,00,000,001 degree furnace", he commented. "Just a few minutes ago I was busy bursting an atom into five separate and distinct parts, and at that crucial point I started worrying about that first degree."

   "The first degree is always the hardest," admitted Seaton consolingly, "no matter what people say about the third degree." He wandered over to his desk, which was piled high with a litter of note-paper he had used to figure the seventeen integers necessary for breaking down a tenth-place fraction. More than a litter, in fact. It was a lot.

   At this moment the televisor on the laboratory wall pealed forth its summons.

   "Hey, you!" It barked in its tinny, mechanical voice, "Why don't you answer the phone?"

   Crane had once built a mechanical robot, that being the only practical kind to build, and when the robot had lost its vouce due to an attck of tonsilitis, Crane had installed the voice in the televisor. The smart remarks emitted henceforth by the robot-speaker had given the boys no end of fun, except for one frightful occasion when the robot had remarked to a visiting preacher inspecting the laboratory, "Say, you! Yes, the drunk guy without a tie! Why don't you get the lead out of your pants and answerd the damned 'phone?"

   So now Seaton shuddered as he rose to switch on the vision screen. He shuddered not at the memory of that fearful moment just described, however, but with a premonition of disaster. Intently he watched a dark and saturnine visage appear on the ground mica-glass of the view-plate. It was the face of his dreaded enemy, Blacky DuQuesne!

   The villain looked from Dick to Crane, leering horribly.

   "Hellow, you two masterminds," he addressed them sarcastically, rolling his eyes rapidly about the laboratory to see if any secrets were lying about waiting to be discovered, "I hate to interrupt your scientific seance, but I have a message to deliver."

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FANTASCIENCE DIGEST Page 23 ponded, "so just what is your gadget?" "I don't know yet. I'm working on that now." "Why don't you adjust that vaporizer there and convert it into a thermo-couple dish-washer?" suggested Crane, always the practical one of the two. Seaton shook his head dispiritedly. "It's a bit too heavy for that. Weighs six tons, you know." "Well, how about a handy-dandy egg-beater, then?" Dick snapped his fingers excitedly, and his large white teeth flashed as he smiled. "By George, I think you've got something there, Mart! I'll try it out at home on the range." "Oh, have you got a range?" "No, but with my new automatic range-finder I thought-----" "Always the dreamer," commented Martin Crane sarcastically, as her turned to his own experiment disgustedly. He was designing a super-electric blast furnace capable of generating a temperature of 1,000,000,001 degrees, and was perspiring slight. "It always exasperates me how that one degree crept into the contruction of my 1,00,000,001 degree furnace", he commented. "Just a few minutes ago I was busy bursting an atom into five separate and distinct parts, and at that crucial point I started worrying about that first degree." "The first degree is always the hardest," admitted Seaton consolingly, "no matter what people say about the third degree." He wandered over to his desk, which was piled high with a litter of note-paper he had used to figure the seventeen integers necessary for breaking down a tenth-place fraction. More than a litter, in fact. It was a lot. At this moment the televisor on the laboratory wall pealed forth its summons. "Hey, you!" It barked in its tinny, mechanical voice, "Why don't you answer the phone?" Crane had once built a mechanical robot, that being the only practical kind to build, and when the robot had lost its vouce due to an attck of tonsilitis, Crane had installed the voice in the televisor. The smart remarks emitted henceforth by the robot-speaker had given the boys no end of fun, except for one frightful occasion when the robot had remarked to a visiting preacher inspecting the laboratory, "Say, you! Yes, the drunk guy without a tie! Why don't you get the lead out of your pants and answerd the damned 'phone?" So now Seaton shuddered as he rose to switch on the vision screen. He shuddered not at the memory of that fearful moment just described, however, but with a premonition of disaster. Intently he watched a dark and saturnine visage appear on the ground mica-glass of the view-plate. It was the face of his dreaded enemy, Blacky DuQuesne! The villain looked from Dick to Crane, leering horribly. "Hellow, you two masterminds," he addressed them sarcastically, rolling his eyes rapidly about the laboratory to see if any secrets were lying about waiting to be discovered, "I hate to interrupt your scientific seance, but I have a message to deliver."