Astounding Science Fiction (British Edition) — page 62: what you’re looking at

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

60 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION not to lift into the air for just a moment. No matter how he lay in wait for the moment, he hopped and people would turn to look at him. He reached for the railing at the head of the stairs and just before his hand touched it, one of his feet kicked the other. It was the most ungainly stumble that could be im- agined. Three weeks earlier, Roger would have sprawled down the stairs. This time his autonomic system took over and, leaning forward, spread-eagled, fingers wide, legs half- buckled, he sailed down the flight gliderlike. He might have been on _ Wires. He was too dazed to right himself, too paralyzed with horror to do any- thing. Within two feet of the window at the bottom of the flight, he came to an automatic halt and hovered. There were two students on the flight he had come down, both now pressed against the wall, three more at the head of the stairs, two on the flight below, and one on the landing with him, so close they could almost touch one another. It was very silent. They all looked at him. Roger straightened himself, dropped to the ground and ran down the stairs, pushing one student roughly out of his way. Conversation swirled up into ex- clamation behind him. “Dr. Morton wants to see me?” Roger turned in his chair, holding one of its arms firmly. The new department nodded. “Yes, Dr. Toomey.” She left quickly. In the short time since Miss Harroway had resigned, she had learned that Dr. Toomey had something “wrong” with him. The students avoided him. In his lecture room today, the back seat secretary had been full of whispering students. The front seats had been empty. Roger looked into the small wall mirror near the door. He adjusted his jacket and brushed some lime off but that operation did little to improve his appearance. His complexion had grown sallow. He had lost at least ten pounds since all this had started, though, of course, he had no way of really knowing his exact weight- loss. He was generally unhealthy- looking, as though his digestion per- petually disagreed with him and won every argument. He had no apprehensions about this interview with the chairman of the department. He had reached a pro- nounced cynicism concerning the levi- tation incidents. Apparently, wit- nesses didn’t talk. Miss Harroway hadn’t. There was no sign that the students on the staircase had. With a last touch at his tie, he left his office. Dr. Philip Morton’s office was not too far down the hall, which was a gratifying fact to Roger. More and more, he was cultivating the habit of walking with systematic slowness. He picked up one foot and put it before him, watching. Then he picked up the other and put it before him, still watching. He moved along in a confirmed stoop, gazing at his feet. Dr. Morton frowned as Roger walked in. He had little eyes, wore a poorly-trimmed grizzled mustache and an untidy suit. He had a moderate reputation in the scientific world and a decided penchant for leaving teach- ing duties to the members of his staff. He said, “Say, Toomey, I got the Strangest letter from Linus Deering. Did you write to him on”—he consulted a paper on his desk— “the twenty-second of last month. Is this your signature?” Roger looked and nodded. An- xiously, he tried to read Deering’s al Comichbooksnco Al