American Science Fiction #41 — page 6: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

6 ‘ STOPWATCH -ON with the Englishman. Besides, he probably figured Chetzisky was sim- ply projecting his fancy into the future.” I grunted as I snapped the suit- case lock shut. “By the way, Jim have you traced any of the letters yet?” “No.” Armstrong paused to light a fresh cigarette. “That’s what Ill be doing while you’re away. Ready?” He dropped the burnt-out match in an ash-tray and swung my bag off the bed. IVE hours later I was air-bound out of Washington for the atomic Jabs, As the lights of cities and towns flashed below me, a panicking sense of responsibility seized me. Two of us alone were trying to save two billion people from a deadline of an- nihilation; forced to do it in our ay time as if the rescue of a planet ‘was a casual hobby for leisure hours. -I struck an angry fist into the palm of my hand; a sickening feeling of hopelessness took me by the pit of the stomach. My glance fell on the newspaper 7 open on my lap. A lovely debutante stared up at me, smiling. “Wedding Set For Next Month,” the caption under the picture announced. if there is a next month, I thought. Millions like the debutante were thinking of some bliss next month would bring — the young mother-to- be; the old couple approaching a golden anniversary celebration; the prisoner awaiting release; the author looking forward to his first pub- ~ jished book. If Armstrong and I failed—I shook off the thought of it and turned to the sport page. The print grew dim behind a procession of ima ages of happy brides, bright- eyed old couples, beaming, confident young men, and I fell off into an wneasy sleep. . At the airport the Director of the Atomic labs was on hand to meet me and take me to his home for break- fast. I ate hurriedly and waited with evident impatience until my ~ host drove me over to the atomic labs. He ~“\ ~at the end of a corridor. showed me into Chetzisky’s office and 33 the hunt had begun. = The office was a small neat room = I inspected — every nook and cranny of the place. I took out the desk drawers, looked for stray papers, leafed through the _ scientific volumes in the bookcase. | ~ a checked the wall calendar for nota= — = tions or circled dates. I searched — everywhere and found nothing, = = ~ From the office the Director drove = me over to the “prefab” residential q section where Doctor Chetzisky’s as- — sistant, Roger Budnick, lived. He ~ was just sitting down to a Jast min- = ute coffee when we came in. The Director introduced us and left. Fo joined Budnick in a coffee and ques- — tioned him about the Doctor, He ~~ answered frankly but he had no ee = formation, ao Disgusted and discouraged i aces cepted Budnick’s offer to ride with — him to the labs. His 1938 Chevrolet was parked in front of the house. q a noticed the badly dented fender as i walked around to get in the car, and — commented on it. ee oy; got it the same night Doctor =e Chetzisky had his accident at = lab.” = I froze in the act of sliding i the seat beside him, “What “ dent?” = “Oh, the doctor was doing some — work alone one ni ight. Something went wrong and he telephoned for me to come over right away. When _ I got there everything was all Tight. oe He apologised for disturbing me.’ ¢ “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?” Sa “No, I don’t think so. Except the — Geiger: it gave a count a little above SS normal.” Somewhere here was a lead. I felt —— it, but I couldn’t seem to get my hands on it. “Did he have any Visit-— = ors about that time?” <> Budnick lowered his head, study- Se ing the gravelled road in a concen- trated attempt at remembering. a He shook his head slowly. Then his memory stirred. “Yes, I remem- ber. A day or so before the accident he had a visitor. oul book e