DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Paradox, v. 2, issue 4, whole no 8

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to his work-room, all the while chattering merrily away.
     In the center of the room, surrounded by insulated cables, and generators and motors, stood a large metal cube. It had, I noticed, a small, glass door built into one side. Walking around it, I discovered that each of the other three sides had similar doors.
    Peering in through one of the doors, I saw that there was inside a chair among a complicated jumble of wires, dials, and switches, and, at the top and bottom sides were a pair of transparent trap doors. Turning away, I was confronted by a smiling, triumphant-looking youngster. "You know what it is?" he asked proudly.
   I shook my head.
   Jack stepped to the cube, and opened one of the doors. "It's a time-machine," he explained, "the result of our talk last week about grandfathers. I intend to kill mine."
    "You must be nuts," I replied. "That stuff about grandfathers and temponautics is strictly from fiction. Time machines just aren't possible."
    Jack had a gun in his hand now, and he entered the cube. "It is possible," he said. "I've tested it, and I fully intend to go through with the experiment." He seated himself after closing the door, and flipped several switches. 
      "Jack!" I shouted, pounding on the door with my fists.
     Then the machine was gone. No growing transparent, no shimmering or flickering. It just went.
      I stepped from its vicinity, and waited. A jew moments later, the cube snapped back into view. A weary young man stepped from the cube, and threw his revolver into a table-drawer; he seated himself. His eyes were very sad.
    I asked what had happened.
    "I couldn't do it," he sighed. "I couldn't kill a man."
                ****
Next week, Jack looked even sadder. He had a strange story to relate. He had finally decided to kill his grandfather--he had screwed his courage to the s sticking-place, as it were, and had returned to the past. He had searched out his grandfather again. All was still, strangely, and nothing moved. This time, he fired; and the bullet bounced

Saving...

to his work-room, all the while chattering merrily away. In the center of the room, surrounded by insulated cables, and generators and motors, stood a large metal cube. It had, I noticed, a small, glass door built into one side. Walking around it, I discovered that each of the other three sides had similar doors. Peering in through one of the doors, I saw that there was inside a chair among a complicated jumble of wires, dials, and switches, and, at the top and bottom sides were a pair of transparent trap doors. Turning away, I was confronted by a smiling, triumphant-looking youngster. "You know what it is?" he asked proudly. I shook my head. Jack stepped to the cube, and opened one of the doors. "It's a time-machine," he explained, "the result of our talk last week about grandfathers. I intend to kill mine." "You must be nuts," I replied. "That stuff about grandfathers and temponautics is strictly from fiction. Time machines just aren't possible." Jack had a gun in his hand now, and he entered the cube. "It is possible," he said. "I've tested it, and I fully intend to go through with the experiment." He seated himself after closing the door, and flipped several switches. "Jack!" I shouted, pounding on the door with my fists. Then the machine was gone. No growing transparent, no shimmering or flickering. It just went. I stepped from its vicinity, and waited. A jew moments later, the cube snapped back into view. A weary young man stepped from the cube, and threw his revolver into a table-drawer; he seated himself. His eyes were very sad. I asked what had happened. "I couldn't do it," he sighed. "I couldn't kill a man." **** Next week, Jack looked even sadder. He had a strange story to relate. He had finally decided to kill his grandfather--he had screwed his courage to the s sticking-place, as it were, and had returned to the past. He had searched out his grandfather again. All was still, strangely, and nothing moved. This time, he fired; and the bullet bounced