Pulp Fiction, 1955 · page 46 of 146
Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 54 — page 46: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1955. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
MAN IN But what explanation? The carpet was an ordinary carpet. He’d examined tufts of it under the binocular micro- scope. He’d tested them chemically. The only way to make them change colour was to dye them. Dyeing pre- supposed a dyer. And where, where, where was the dyer? He opened what had been the bathroom door. Behind it was the impossibly spacious lounge, the frozen flowerbed of the Perian carpet, the tall clock with the gold face and the easily swinging pendulum, the long, low easy chairs. The last time he was in the lounge it had been on the floor below. His head swam, the feeling of nausea returned. Where was the bedroom hiding from him now? Was it worth chasing around these shifting corridors? No, he was too tired. ““Too scared!”’ mocked the acidulous voice of self-criticism. But his weari- ness was genuine, and he lapsed into ind.fference. He flopped into the nearest armchair without bothering to remove his white laboratory coat, and lay back with closed 45 A MAZE eyes. Almost at once he heard a distant rumbling, very faint, like far away thunder. It died away. He groaned, and put the back of a hand to his hot forehead. Again: objective or subjective? In short, were these halluci- nations—or not? He tried to be logical. If these were hallucinations, then his worst fear looked like being very real—a brain tu- mour. If they were not, then this house was untenantable— - one couldn’t live in a maze nor call,a single experiment authentic when performed with untrustworthy tools. In either case he would have to lose his marvellous lab, the best-equipped he’d ever had the use of, relinquish his income—and lose his life. For pure research was his life. Then he’d never, probably, learn why that particular rabbit’s leg refused to fall - ORE hr Where was the mysterious Charles Sweet? If Sweet couldn’t explain these mys- teries, at least he could help by setting up a lab somewhere comiclbooks.conrn