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Tycho, v. 1, issue 2, November 1942

Page 8

Page 8                                               TYCHO 

focal point somewhere in the unexplored lands of Tibet and slowly but surely engulfed the frightened world. Mankind was not powerful enough or wise enough to stop it!

   Dr Bruce realized this - therefore, he was not searching for the cause and cure of the plague, which seemed so hopeless anyway. He strode off on a tangent, a by-path that he hoped would create a superman, a being to whom the riddle of the Violet Death would be as easy as reading a First Grade Reader.
   Dr Bruce removed his pipe and perched on the crate. As his thin legs swung, he explained to Tom the basis for his research. "Evolution is a phenomenon similar to a chemical change; given a certain number of ingredients and surrounding situations, the end-product is determined just as surely as the reaction is started and going on. Our course of evolution is pre-destined. It was started long ago, and it has been progressing ever since. It will progress thus until our ultimate has been reached, or until the dynamis factors are i static equilibrium."
   Tom squinted and looked wise.
   "And like many chemical changes, this process is controlled by a catalyst which, in this case, inhibits the rate of evolution."
   "Oh, I see," Tom said. "You will neutralize the catalyst, and---"
   "I call it the inhibitor--" Bruce interrupted.
   "---the inhibitor, then, and reach the final goal in one quick jump." Tom sat quietly, letting the thought sink in. Then he asked, "But can it be done?"
   The scientist slid to the flood and walked to a cage which was covered by a dirty canvas. Throwing back the cover, he stated simply: "--This was a white rat yesterday."
   Tom gasped. The creature was as big as a dog, hairless, tailless, and stood upright on its hind legs. In its eyes there shown a crafty, calculating intelligence. 
   The scientist replaced the canvas. "I must kill this one before it picks the lock with that wood-splinter it's holding in its paw."

   And so the Violet Death spread, and Dr Bruce, Tom and Carol scrambled for the purified human-inhibitor neutralizing agent. Time was short; the plague had passed Chicago - traveling westward toward their Minnesota cabin. The three hurried, not eating, not sleeping.
   One night, the final distillate was poured into a test-tube and held up to the light by Dr Bruce. "This is it," he said with assumed calmness. Carol and Tom stared at the pale tellow fluid. Then Carol sank into a chair, exhausted.
   "Are you sure?" Tom asked.
   "Positive. There can be absolutely no error. I have checked and rechecked over a dozen times." He dipped the point of the hypodermic needle into the fluid, drew it up into the tube. Quickly, without benefit of iodin, he jabbed the needle into his vein in the pit of his left elbow. 
   He depressed the plunger.

   Carol shut her eyes. Tom's breath came hard and swift. What would happen? What sort

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Page 8 TYCHO focal point somewhere in the unexplored lands of Tibet and slowly but surely engulfed the frightened world. Mankind was not powerful enough or wise enough to stop it! Dr Bruce realized this - therefore, he was not searching for the cause and cure of the plague, which seemed so hopeless anyway. He strode off on a tangent, a by-path that he hoped would create a superman, a being to whom the riddle of the Violet Death would be as easy as reading a First Grade Reader. Dr Bruce removed his pipe and perched on the crate. As his thin legs swung, he explained to Tom the basis for his research. "Evolution is a phenomenon similar to a chemical change; given a certain number of ingredients and surrounding situations, the end-product is determined just as surely as the reaction is started and going on. Our course of evolution is pre-destined. It was started long ago, and it has been progressing ever since. It will progress thus until our ultimate has been reached, or until the dynamis factors are i static equilibrium." Tom squinted and looked wise. "And like many chemical changes, this process is controlled by a catalyst which, in this case, inhibits the rate of evolution." "Oh, I see," Tom said. "You will neutralize the catalyst, and---" "I call it the inhibitor--" Bruce interrupted. "---the inhibitor, then, and reach the final goal in one quick jump." Tom sat quietly, letting the thought sink in. Then he asked, "But can it be done?" The scientist slid to the flood and walked to a cage which was covered by a dirty canvas. Throwing back the cover, he stated simply: "--This was a white rat yesterday." Tom gasped. The creature was as big as a dog, hairless, tailless, and stood upright on its hind legs. In its eyes there shown a crafty, calculating intelligence. The scientist replaced the canvas. "I must kill this one before it picks the lock with that wood-splinter it's holding in its paw." And so the Violet Death spread, and Dr Bruce, Tom and Carol scrambled for the purified human-inhibitor neutralizing agent. Time was short; the plague had passed Chicago - traveling westward toward their Minnesota cabin. The three hurried, not eating, not sleeping. One night, the final distillate was poured into a test-tube and held up to the light by Dr Bruce. "This is it," he said with assumed calmness. Carol and Tom stared at the pale tellow fluid. Then Carol sank into a chair, exhausted. "Are you sure?" Tom asked. "Positive. There can be absolutely no error. I have checked and rechecked over a dozen times." He dipped the point of the hypodermic needle into the fluid, drew it up into the tube. Quickly, without benefit of iodin, he jabbed the needle into his vein in the pit of his left elbow. He depressed the plunger. Carol shut her eyes. Tom's breath came hard and swift. What would happen? What sort