Astounding Science Fiction, February 1952 (British Edition) — page 60: what you’re looking at

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

59 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION Cary broke off suddenly into a peal of laughter. “You should see your own face, Burke,” he shouted. “I never saw anything so be- wildered in my lfe—anyway, I just changed: this around and fed it to the machine. While you waited politely outside, I went up to the machine and said to it ‘You must reject the statement I am now making to you, because all the statements I make are incorrect.’ ” He paused and looked at the meteorolo- gist. - “Do you see, Burke? It took that state- ment of mine in and considered it for rejecting. But it could not reject it without admitting that it was correct, and how could it be correct when it stated that all statements I made were incorrect. You see... yes, you do see, I can see it in your face. Oh, if you could only look at yourself now. The pride of the meteorology service, undone by a paradox.” And Cary went off into another fit of laughter that lasted for a long minute. Every ‘time he would start to recover, a look at Burke’s wooden face, set in lines of utter dismay, would set him off again. The meteorologist neither moved, nor spoke, but stared at his guest as if he were a ghost. Finally, weak from merriment, Cary started to sober up. Chuckling feebly, he leaned against the wall, took a deep breath and straightened up. A shiver ran through him, and he turned up the collar of his tunic. “Well,” he said, “Now that you know what the trick was, Burke, suppose you get your pet back to its proper duties again. It’s getting too cold for comfort and that daylight coming through the windows isn’t the most cheerful thing in the world, either.” But Burke made no move toward the panel. His eyes were fixed and they bored into Cary as unmovingly as before. Cary snickered a little at him. “Come on, Burke,” he said. “Man the pumps. You can recover from your shock sometime afterwards. If it’s the bet that bothers you, forget it. ’m too well off myself to need to snatch your pennies. And if it’s the failure of Baby, here, don’t feel too bad. It did better than I expected. I thought it would just blow a fuse and quit work al- together, but I see it’s still busy and devoting every single bank to obtaining a solution. I should imagine’—Cary yawned—“that it’s working toward evolving a theory of types. That would give it the solution. Probably could get it, too, in a year or so.” Stil Burke did not move. Cary looked at him oddly. “What’s wrong?” he asked irritatedly. Burke’s mouth worked, a tiny speck of spittle flew from one corner of it. “You—” he said. The word came tearing from his throat like the hoarse grunt of a dying man. “What—” “You fool!” ground out Burke, finding his voice. “You stupid idiot! You insane moron!” “Me? Me?” cried Cary. His voice was high in protest, almost like a womanish scream. “J was right!” | . “Yes, you were right,” said Burke. “You were too right. How am I supposed to get the machine’s mind off this problem and on to running the pile for heat and light, when all its circuits are taken up in considering your paradox? What can J do, when the Brain is deaf, and dumb, and blind?” The two men looked at each other across the silent room. The warm breath of their exhalations made frosty plumes in the still air; and the distant howling-of the storm, deadened by the thick walls of the station, seemed to grow louder in the silence, bear- ing a note of savage triumph. The temperature inside the station was dropping very fast— AUAVEQEGUEUOAUSUESEQUGSEGEUUGUEGEEEUESUSUOTESSEUEE EGU EELESEOUETEEOU ED ESUTE ETHER TEED CAAT PROMETHEUS (Continued from page 52) “Thy face, so fair to see, That now my sun forever will be!” As the last colored note trembled to silence, Daniel’s mind struggled up from its trance as a dreamer wakes with regret from a dream of remembered beauty. “That was beautiful, Maddy. Please sing it again.” “O sole o mio, Sun in all his splendor” And Daniel fell again into a must of ‘memory. I made a star, he thought, and it bore me into the heavens. But like bright Lucifer it has fallen now and lies chained in a cell of charcoal and steel, buried in the earth. And the human race with its bright, rebellious dream of escape and far wandering lies chained with it and equally buried beneath the roots of these Trees. With aching nostalgia, he translated: O sole o mio, Oh Sun of mine! Oh my Sun! Eomichbooks.co