Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

CrP eh re SeCrRe [ By RAYMOND F. JONES simple rocketship which rose from the floor, circled twice near the lobby ceiling, then drifted gently down with ports glowing and fire spitting from the tail jets. Sam Marvenstein, president of Sa- mar Toys, came across from his company’s booth as the finishing touches were being put on the dis- plays. He took the cigar from his mouth and glanced up as the minia- ture spaceship made its second turn and began descending. ““Makes a nice display,” said Sam critically, “but itll never sell. You can’t expect the merchandiser to put in a big, high-ceilinged display of this kind. A few of the big city places will rig up a set of wires like you got here, sure, but not the little stores, and that’s where you got to count on the big volume sales. And it’s a cinch that kids’ dads aren’t going to be fooled into any elaborate rigging like that. “Yeah, it looks real pretty up there,” he admitted again. “You can hardly see the wires, even.” “Maybe that’s because there aren’t any,” said Mart. “The ship rises and descends on its own self-contained power, and is pre-set for steering.” ‘No wires, huh—’’ Sam entered the booth and passed a hand through the space beneath the descending ship. “‘Worse yet, then. Too bad, too. It could have been an awfully nice iece of merchandise.” ““What’s the matter with it now?” said Mart anxiously. “Why shouldn’t it sell?” ; “Fire hazard. No parent is going to let his kid have something flying around the house with fire spitting out the end of it like that. What kind of fuel do you use, anyway? Whatever it is, the fire underwriters are going to clamp down on you quick.” 3 Sam Marvenstein shook his head sadly as the little rocket spun down to the floor with sparks pouring madly from its jets. “Oh, that—”’ said Mart in relief. “That’s just for show. We borrowed _it from the toy train people. By increasing the intensity we get a nice simulation of rocket fire.” “Then how does it go? What kind of a trick are you selling, anyway?” said Sam almost belligerently. Mart picked up a model lying on the counter and unscrewed the nose. A nest of three flashlight batteries could be seen side by side in the interior. “Battery power,” he said to Sam. “Three cells give approximately five hours of flying.” “Yeah . . . but how does that—?” “Antigravity,” said Mart. “A small antigravity unit is concealed in the tail under the batteries. The lever on the side of the ship is pre-set for the flight pattern desired. Very simple. Practically foolproof. We even guaran- tee them for three weeks.” Sam Marvenstein replaced the cigar in his mouth slowly. He picked up one of the toys and turned it end for end, squinting into the dark interior. “Antigravity. Whadya know? Now that’s really something. I used to read about that in the magazines my CONC OOOKS2EO) Mm