Pulp Fiction, 1954 · page 282 of 330
Adventures in the Far Future & Tales of Outer Space — page 282: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1954. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
upon the electronic structure of certain crystals. They took the pattern of Daryesh and of none other, for only he of the remaining Immortals was willing. Who else would want a pattern to be repeated, ages after he himself was dead, ages after all the world and all history and meaning were lost? But Daryesh had always been reckless, and Iloma was dead, and he didn’t care much for what happened. lloma, Iloma! Laird saw the unforgotten image rise in his memory, golden-eyed and laughing, the long dark hair flowing around the lovely suppleness of her. He remembered the sound of her voice and the sweetness of her lips, and he loved her. A million years, and she was dust blowing on the night wind, and he loved her with that part of him which was Daryesh and with more than a little of John Laird ... O llorna... And Daryesh the man had gone to die with his planet, but the crystal pattern which reproduced the ego of Daryesh lay in the vault they had made, surrounded by all the mightiest works of Vwyrdda. Sooner or later, sometime in the infinite future of the universe, someone would come; someone or something would put the helmet on his head and activate it. And the pattern would be reproduced on the neurones—the mind of Daryesh would live again, and he would speak for dead Vwyrdda and seek to renew the tradition of fifty million years. It would be the will of Vwyrdda, reaching across time— But Vwyrdda is dead, thought Laird frantically. Vwyrdda is gone. This is a new history. You’ve got no business telling us what to do! The reply was cold with arrogance. “I shall do as | see fit. Meanwhile, | advise that you lie passive and do not attempt to interfere with me.” “Cram it, Daryesh!” Laird’s mouth drew back in a snarl. “| won't be dictated to by anyone, let alone a ghost.” CORniclooo SS (SO)