DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Phanteur, issue 5, May 1948

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Phanteur, issue 5, May 1948

Page 2

2 PHANTEUR 2

"As Time Goes By"

Why does time seem to be accelerating so violently of late? Is it just because I'm growing old, as I finish the first half of the fourth year of my fourth decade on Sol III? I scarcely have the time to read Astounding SCIENCE FICTION these days; I used to read all the pros in the days when they were much more numerous, and wish for more. Is it because the type of work I do now keeps me extremely busy, with new and unexpected problems arising almost daily? Time flits fastest when one is busiest; but before I took up this kind of work (in those dimly-remembered days before the War) I was working ten hours a day during the summer months, and still finding time to read the pros, write numerous letters, put together an occasional article or story for a fanzine, and even work a little on attempts at pro fiction. Now, my correspondence is chronically three months behind, and the only writing I can find time for goes into the PHANTEUR for the APA's. 
During the War years, I used to lay part of the blame on the Louisiana climate, with the enervating, humid heat of summer, and the dreary, rainy winters. But the weather wasn't always bad in Louisiana; I remember two years in particular when the summers were dry, like my native Nebraska, and when the Spring and Fall were clear and cool, just right for tennis and golf, picnics, and hunting and fishing, no three-day rains followed by two weeks of cloudy weather, as was so often the case. Did I find the time and energy to do a lot of writing then? Of course not; why, I hardly had time for golf! And since returning to the high plains region of western Kansas and Nebraska, I seem to have even less time for hobbies. (Can't blame it on golf here, either; there is no playable golf course in Imperial).
Well, maybe my age, and the climate, and my job, and golf, and other factor of like nature constitute the real reasons for the swift passage of Time in this third year of The Atomic Age, but I don't believe it. That explanation is too glib; too simple; too full of ifs. I think that Time, in some obscure relativistic sense, is actually speeding up, -- partaking in some way of the incredible acceleration which is taking place in human affairs. I do not claim that this accelerative process is new, but I think the rate of acceleration has itself speeded up. 

Consider; in that prehistoric age when Trilobites ruled the Seas, what would you suggest as a practical unit for measuring time? A day? A year? A century? Ridiculous! A century was meaningless; the tireless forces of Nature, without the disturbing influence of intelligence to push and prod, were not concerned with centuries; the dizzying whirl of the Earth and the other planets marked off infinitesimals; even the motions of the stars themselves were hasty in comparison to Time's lethargic crawl over the turgid seascape of that dim and distant age. 
Then, one millenium, a fish crawled from the Sea, and the Great Clock ticked, marking off the first step in the conquest of the land. And a few hundred millenia later, Tyrannosaurus Rex stalked on clumsy legs, wallowing accross the swampy terrain, stoking his great body with the decaying flesh of the even larger herbivores; and the Great Clock ticked once more. How long had it taken? Why, it couldn't have been very long; just one tick of the Great Clock; yet the stars had burned new patterns in the skies many times over. 
A tiny furry beast slipped furtively through the steaming jungle, hugging a huge, thin-skinned egg against his breast, carrying it to his lair to feed his . young; young which had not been born from eggs deposited in the sand. And the Great Clock ticked again; the day of the great saurians had ended.

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2 PHANTEUR 2 "As Time Goes By" Why does time seem to be accelerating so violently of late? Is it just because I'm growing old, as I finish the first half of the fourth year of my fourth decade on Sol III? I scarcely have the time to read Astounding SCIENCE FICTION these days; I used to read all the pros in the days when they were much more numerous, and wish for more. Is it because the type of work I do now keeps me extremely busy, with new and unexpected problems arising almost daily? Time flits fastest when one is busiest; but before I took up this kind of work (in those dimly-remembered days before the War) I was working ten hours a day during the summer months, and still finding time to read the pros, write numerous letters, put together an occasional article or story for a fanzine, and even work a little on attempts at pro fiction. Now, my correspondence is chronically three months behind, and the only writing I can find time for goes into the PHANTEUR for the APA's. During the War years, I used to lay part of the blame on the Louisiana climate, with the enervating, humid heat of summer, and the dreary, rainy winters. But the weather wasn't always bad in Louisiana; I remember two years in particular when the summers were dry, like my native Nebraska, and when the Spring and Fall were clear and cool, just right for tennis and golf, picnics, and hunting and fishing, no three-day rains followed by two weeks of cloudy weather, as was so often the case. Did I find the time and energy to do a lot of writing then? Of course not; why, I hardly had time for golf! And since returning to the high plains region of western Kansas and Nebraska, I seem to have even less time for hobbies. (Can't blame it on golf here, either; there is no playable golf course in Imperial). Well, maybe my age, and the climate, and my job, and golf, and other factor of like nature constitute the real reasons for the swift passage of Time in this third year of The Atomic Age, but I don't believe it. That explanation is too glib; too simple; too full of ifs. I think that Time, in some obscure relativistic sense, is actually speeding up, -- partaking in some way of the incredible acceleration which is taking place in human affairs. I do not claim that this accelerative process is new, but I think the rate of acceleration has itself speeded up. Consider; in that prehistoric age when Trilobites ruled the Seas, what would you suggest as a practical unit for measuring time? A day? A year? A century? Ridiculous! A century was meaningless; the tireless forces of Nature, without the disturbing influence of intelligence to push and prod, were not concerned with centuries; the dizzying whirl of the Earth and the other planets marked off infinitesimals; even the motions of the stars themselves were hasty in comparison to Time's lethargic crawl over the turgid seascape of that dim and distant age. Then, one millenium, a fish crawled from the Sea, and the Great Clock ticked, marking off the first step in the conquest of the land. And a few hundred millenia later, Tyrannosaurus Rex stalked on clumsy legs, wallowing accross the swampy terrain, stoking his great body with the decaying flesh of the even larger herbivores; and the Great Clock ticked once more. How long had it taken? Why, it couldn't have been very long; just one tick of the Great Clock; yet the stars had burned new patterns in the skies many times over. A tiny furry beast slipped furtively through the steaming jungle, hugging a huge, thin-skinned egg against his breast, carrying it to his lair to feed his . young; young which had not been born from eggs deposited in the sand. And the Great Clock ticked again; the day of the great saurians had ended.