Astounding Science Fiction (British Edition) — page 57: what you’re looking at

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

BELIEF 55 count the times I’ve dreamed I awoke and dressed and made breakfast; then really woke up and found it was all to do over again. I’ve even dreamed I was dreaming, if you see what I mean. It can be awfully confusing.” “Look, Jane. I’ve come to you with a problem because you’re the only one I feel I can come to. Please take me seriously.” Jane’s blue eyes opened wide. “Darling! I’m taking you as seriously as I can. You’re the Physics professor, not I. Gravitation is what you know about, not I. Would you take it seriously if I told you J had found myself floating?” “No. No! That’s the hell of it. I don’t want to believe it, only I’ve got to. It was no dream, Jane. I tried to tell myself it was. You have no idea how I talked myself into that. By the time I got to class, I was sure it was a dream. You didn’t notice anything queer about me at breakfast, did you?” “Yes, I did, now that I think about it. “Well, it wasn’t very queer or you would have mentioned it. Any- way, I gave my nine o’clock lecture perfectly. By eleven, I had forgotten the whole incident. Then, just after lunch, I needed a book. I needed Page and—Well, the book doesn’t matter; I just needed it. It was on an upper shelf, but I could reach it. Jane—”’ He stopped. “Well, go on, Roger.” “Look, did you ever try to pick up something that’s just a step away? You bend and automatically take a step toward it as you reach. It’s completely involuntary. It’s just your body’s over-all co-ordination.” “All right. What of it?” “I reached for the book and auto- matically took a step upward. On air, Jane! On empty air!” “I’m going to call Jim Sarle, Roger.” “I’m not sick, damn it.”’ “I think he ought to talk to you. He’s a friend. It won’t be a doctor’s visit. He’ll just talk to you.” “And what good will that do?” Roger’s face turned red with sudden anger. “We'll see. Now sit down, Roger. Please.” She walked to the phone. He cut her off, seizing her wrist. “You don’t believe me.” “Oh, Roger.” ““You don’t.” “T believe you. Of course, I believe you. I just want—” “Yes. You just want Jim Sarle to talk to me. That’s how much you believe me. I’m telling the truth but you want me to talk to a psychiatrist. Look, you don’t have to take my word for anything. I can prove this. I can prove I can float.” “I believe you.” “Don’t be a fool. I know when I’m being humored. Stand still! Now watch me.” He backed away to the middle of the room and without preliminary lifted off the floor. He dangled; with the toes of his shoes six empty inches from the carpet. Jane’s eyes and mouth were three round O’s. She whispered, “Come down, Roger. Oh, dear heaven, come down.” He drifted down, his feet touching the floor without a sound. ‘You see?” “Oh, my. Oh, my.” She stared at him, half-frightened, half-sick. On the television set, a chesty female sang mutely that flying high with some guy in the sky was her idea of nothing at all. COMMICIOOKS.1EO© m=