December, 1945

Novelettes Beggars In Velvet by Lewis Padgett Trouble Times two by George O. Smith Short Story Orders by Malcolm Jameson Serial The Mule by Isaac Asimov (Conclusion) Article Atomic Power Plant  (Excerpt from The Smyth Report) Readers' Departments The Editor's Page  (Atoms Won't Do Everything) In Times To Come ("The Fairy Chessmen" by Lewis Padgett) The Analytical Laboratory (for July, August & September) Brass Tacks (including a letter from Theodore Sturgeon) COVER BY TIMMINS

In four novelettes - The Piper´s Son, Beggars in Velvet, The Lion and the Unicorn & "Three Blind Mice" - Henry Kuttner, writing as Lewis Padgett, explored the struggle within and without the community of "Baldies", mutants born after the Blow-Up with telepathic powers...The saga was later published as the book "Mutant".

Theodore Sturgeon                   Apt. 5A, 151 8th Ave,                   New York 11, N.Y.           AUGUST SIXTH                    1945 (There is music;  it is Sibelius and     Bach,  it is  richness  and  exacti-     tude, a rushing bass and a wrench-   ing treble, the bass aimed for the   belly  and the  treble  for the tear-   ducts . . . There is a man  asleep.  He walks   and moves  and builds  but he is   asleep.  His eyes  are closed be-   cause he is asleep.  He does not   know how big he is because he is   asleep. He is made of scar tissue. There are  voices.  They are all his   voice.    The  places   where  the   voices  are   heard  are  all  here   where he is.) Magazine Store:   Who buys this crap?   That  kind  of  thing  is  ridiculous. Just  to  settle  it  for  once  and for all, where would they get the power? (The   echo   begins.    It  whispers   "power   power   power"   until  the   whisper  is a  sheet,  a screen,  a   thing   all    one   colour    getting   brighter.   It   never  stops  again.   It  gets  behind   the  music  and   brings the music forward.) School:   I am trying to be reasonable about   this,  children.   I must  make you   understand  that it  harms  you  to   escape  into  such tripe.   Confine   yourself  to  the  books I give you.   You  must  not   clutter  up   your   minds  with such  impossible non-   sense. Home:   Pulp   magazines   again!     Must   you read stories     About rockets     About space flight     About space warps     About new sociologies   Silly!   Where  would they  get the power? (The echo deepens) Cemetery:   . . .  to  finally  prove  the  impos-   sibility  of the  railroad's replacing   the canal.   How can  you expect   the smooth  wheels  of a locomo-   tive resting  with only the locomo-   tive's weight  on a smooth track -   only one  point  for  each  wheel,   gentlemen  --  to   yield   traction   enough  to move  a  train?    Who   wants a means  of  transportation   which   would   prohibit   a  man's   using his own carriage as he now   may use his own canal boat?

. . . these  dreamers  who  want   to build  flying machines heavier   than  the air that  supports them   have not  faced the issue.  What   would be  the status  of shipping   today  if  ships  depended  upon   their  engines,  not only  to drive   them, but to keep them afloat? (From  somewhere,  the fingers of   Langley,  Lilienthal,  Stephenson,   Fulton  touch  the man's  sealed   eyelids.  He rubs them, and rubs   again, and finds  that scars have   not  covered  his  eyes.   He  is   afraid and keeps them closed) Newstand:   Who writes this crap? Places with typewriters:   I wrote  a story  about  decentral-   ization,  because cities could not   dare  exist  when  each  city had   bombs that . . .   I wrote  a  story  about  a meteor   detector   that  worked   controls   when it received  the reflection of   a radio signal . . .   I wrote  a story  about a  reaction   engine . . .   I wrote  a  story  about  a  rocket   projectile . . .   I  wrote  a  story  about  a  robot   flying bomb . . . Subway:   The   heck   with   that   stuff.    I   druther  read   stories  about real   life.   I  druther  read   something   that has to do with me. Place with a typewriter:   I am  afraid.  I tell  you  that  deep   down  inside  I  have  a  cold lump   about   this  thing.     I   know  we   must be  doing something about it   because  although it is  old stuff to   us have been asked not to mention   it  in  our  stories  for  security rea-   sons.  It  is  too big  for us.  It  can   be good -- it can  give us power so   cheap  it  would  be  free.    It  can   give  us  a  four-day   work  week,   five  hours  a  day.   It  can give us   riches.     But   we   are   not   old   enough  for  it  yet.    I  pray  God   that it will be discovered and used   before this war is finished, so that   everyone   will  know   how  big  it   is,   how    good,    how    horrible.   Atomic power (The "atomic"  finds its place in the   echo,  in the  interstices  between   "power  power  power"   and  gives   a staccato tone  to  the  sheet  of   sound.  The  man's  eyes  open a   crack  and  now  he  sees,  but he   sees death, because death came to   stand  before him  when  his  eyes   opened.   He  is  afraid   and  tries   to  close  them  but a  whisper,  a   transparent  whisper,   creeps  be-   tween  his eyelids  and holds them   open.)

Whisper:   On December 7, 1944,  the news-   paper said  there was no bombing   activity  over  Japan.   Somewhere   else the newspaper said there was   a   small   B-29   reconnaissance   flight over the Japanese coast, just   where  the  Japan  deep  is.    The   Japanese islands  sit on  the edge   of the Japan deep,  like houses on   the  edge  of  a  cliff.   Somewhere   else the newspaper said there was   quite   an   earthquake   that   day.   That   day   was   December   7th,   December 7th.  Remember? (The whisper  slips away  to the fig-   ure of  death,  and  the  man  who   can see  now  realizes  that death   is  transparent   like  the  whisper,   and through death he can see how   big  he is.  He stretches  his body   and  feels  how  strong  he is.  He   opens his eyes a little more.) Radio:   The president says  that the bomb   that  struck  Hiroshima  on August   6,  1945  was  atomic.   The presi-   dent  does  not  call  it  atomic ex-   plosive.     The  president  calls  it   atomic power. (The echo is greater than the music   now;  greater  than  anything  else   but the man now.) Places with typewriters:   We are  writing  stories  about the   future   About  machines  that  can  think   creatively.   About interstellar flight   About   the   psychological   fulfill-   ment of mankind   About mutations  caused by  hard   radiation from atomic bombs   About    empathy,    second-order   space,     contra-terrene    matter,   levitation, astral separation, telep-   athy,  the  intuitive  mutation,  un-   versal    syntheses,    time-travel,   silicon  life,  and  the  evolution of   intelligence in rats. Street corner:   Why do you read that crap? (But the man  with  the  open  eyes   does not hear that.  He is looking   at himself,  on  the  other  side of   death.   He knows - he learned on   August 6,  1945,  that he alone is   big  enough  to kill  himself,  or to   live forever.)

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That is as faithful a re-typing, including column-width and indents, as I can manage of an extraordinary kind of piece to find in a letter column - but then, Theodore Sturgeon was not your average writer, right?