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Fan, issue 2, July 1945
Page 26
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26 so many ways! Ric was sure gilt would benefit those legs beautifully, especially the new rose-silver gilt which he'd seen displayed by the mannikins in the Fifth Level shop windows. But for some reason Myra didn't like any of it, and clung to the silk that was now almost passe. Ric sighed prodigiously when he tought of it. Then Ric looked at the rest of her, and immediately forgot the nammikins and the new servant girl he'd seen in the hall and everything else. Something about the way Myra held her head; something about the lovable tilt of hernose, and a deeper blue in her eyes than any Richad ever seen, and the unexplainable shimmering of her hair; something about her entire petulant, kittenish attitude -- all this, together with the other minor fact that he was in love with her, caused him to forget most of her old-fashionedness. He walked over, stood beside her, and looked down for a moment at the flashing figures on the telepanel. "Vanmartin expects us at none," he reminded, "and you know how he hates his guests being late at these affairs. He was telling me he has a new color-organ that he wants to show off tonight." She nodded, notlooking up. "I know. This'll be over in a minute." Ric stood a moment longer looking down at the flashing drama, wondering what she got out of it. More of her old-fashionedness. He strolled over tothe wall and idly turned the color-ceiling dial, watching the soft glow overhead change the room from Myra's favoite burnt orange to his own more conservative blue-green, and then a flashing multitude of colors as he experimented with the various combinations. A moment later Myra clicked off the telerad, and Ric turned to her. He saw at a glance that she had that far off dreamy look again, as she always did after those things. "What was it this time?" he asked. "Oh!" She started out of her revery. "Why, it was one of the early film dramas, dated about nineteen-forty. Central Station's been telerading a few of them as novelties, but I like them! This one especially. It's a serial, ends next week." "Nineteen-forty? Mura, it's amazing the way you can get worked up over something that happened more than a hundred years ago." "They didn't happen at all, silly! Just entertainment. But they do seem so very real," she added with a sigh, as she flitted into the next room to change. Ric shook his head in puzzlement. In the past few months he had noticed Myra's increasing preoccupation with these early "film dramas" on the telerad. It was only a current vogue, of course, and would soon pass. He knew other people who professed to watch and listen to them with varying degrees of amusement -- but Myra seemed to take that so seriously! Ric, personally had never watched one. He shrugged. He guessed they were harmless. Myra emerged not more than a minute later. She had merely zip-
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26 so many ways! Ric was sure gilt would benefit those legs beautifully, especially the new rose-silver gilt which he'd seen displayed by the mannikins in the Fifth Level shop windows. But for some reason Myra didn't like any of it, and clung to the silk that was now almost passe. Ric sighed prodigiously when he tought of it. Then Ric looked at the rest of her, and immediately forgot the nammikins and the new servant girl he'd seen in the hall and everything else. Something about the way Myra held her head; something about the lovable tilt of hernose, and a deeper blue in her eyes than any Richad ever seen, and the unexplainable shimmering of her hair; something about her entire petulant, kittenish attitude -- all this, together with the other minor fact that he was in love with her, caused him to forget most of her old-fashionedness. He walked over, stood beside her, and looked down for a moment at the flashing figures on the telepanel. "Vanmartin expects us at none," he reminded, "and you know how he hates his guests being late at these affairs. He was telling me he has a new color-organ that he wants to show off tonight." She nodded, notlooking up. "I know. This'll be over in a minute." Ric stood a moment longer looking down at the flashing drama, wondering what she got out of it. More of her old-fashionedness. He strolled over tothe wall and idly turned the color-ceiling dial, watching the soft glow overhead change the room from Myra's favoite burnt orange to his own more conservative blue-green, and then a flashing multitude of colors as he experimented with the various combinations. A moment later Myra clicked off the telerad, and Ric turned to her. He saw at a glance that she had that far off dreamy look again, as she always did after those things. "What was it this time?" he asked. "Oh!" She started out of her revery. "Why, it was one of the early film dramas, dated about nineteen-forty. Central Station's been telerading a few of them as novelties, but I like them! This one especially. It's a serial, ends next week." "Nineteen-forty? Mura, it's amazing the way you can get worked up over something that happened more than a hundred years ago." "They didn't happen at all, silly! Just entertainment. But they do seem so very real," she added with a sigh, as she flitted into the next room to change. Ric shook his head in puzzlement. In the past few months he had noticed Myra's increasing preoccupation with these early "film dramas" on the telerad. It was only a current vogue, of course, and would soon pass. He knew other people who professed to watch and listen to them with varying degrees of amusement -- but Myra seemed to take that so seriously! Ric, personally had never watched one. He shrugged. He guessed they were harmless. Myra emerged not more than a minute later. She had merely zip-
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