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Pleasant Journey By: Richard F. Thieme |
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PLEASANT JOURNEY It's nice to go on a pleasant journey.
There is, however, a very difficult question concerning
the other half of the ticket ... BY RICHARD F. THIEME Illustrated by George Schelling
"What do you call it?" the buyer asked Jenkins. "I named it 'Journey Home' but you can think up a better name for it if
you want. I'll guarantee that it sells, though. There's nothing like it
on any midway." "I'd like to try it out first, of course," Allenby said. "Star Time uses
only the very best, you know." "Yes, I know," Jenkins said. He had heard the line before, from almost
every carnival buyer to whom he had sold. He did not do much business
with the carnivals; there weren't enough to keep him busy with large or
worthwhile rides and features. The amusement parks of the big cities
were usually the best markets. Allenby warily eyed the entrance, a room fashioned from a side show
booth. A rough red curtain concealed the inside. Over the doorway, in
crude dark blue paint, was lettered, "Journey Home." Behind the doorway
was a large barnlike structure, newly painted white, where Jenkins did
his planning, his building, and his finishing. When he sold a new ride
it was either transported from inside the building through the large,
pull away doors in back or taken apart piece by piece and shipped to the
park or carny that bought it. "Six thousand's a lot of money," the buyer said. "Just try it," Jenkins told him. The buyer shrugged. "O.K.," he said. "Let's go in." They walked through
the red curtain. Inside the booth entrance was a soft cushioned
easy chair, also red, secured firmly in place. It was a piece of salvage
from a two engine commercial airplane. A helmet looking like a Flash
Gordon accessory hair drier combination was set over it. Jenkins flipped
a switch and the room became bright with light. "I thought you said this
wasn't a thrill ride," Allenby said, looking at the helmetlike structure
ominously hanging over the chair. "It isn't," Jenkins said, smiling. "Sit down." He strapped the buyer
into place in the chair. "Hey, wait a minute," Allenby protested. "Why the straps?" "Leave everything to me and don't worry," Jenkins said, fitting the
headgear into place over the buyer's head. The back of it fitted easily
over the entire rear of the skull, down to his neck. The front came just
below the eyes. After turning the light off, Jenkins pulled the curtain
closed. It was completely black inside. "Have a nice trip," Jenkins said, pulling a switch on the wall and
pushing a button on the back of the chair at the same time. Currents shifted and repatterned themselves inside the helmet and were
fed into Allenby at the base of his skull, at the medulla. The currents
of alternating ions mixed with the currents of his varied and random
brain waves, and the impulses of one became the impulses of the other.
Allenby jerked once with the initial shock and was then still, his mind
and body fused with the pulsating currents of the chair. Suddenly, Roger Allenby was almost blinded by bright, naked light.
Allenby's first impression was one of disappointment at the failure of
the device. Jenkins was reliable, usually, and hadn't come up with a
fluke yet. Allenby got out of the chair and called for Jenkins, holding on to the
arm of the chair to keep his bearings. "Hey! Where are you? Jenkins!" He
tried to look around him but the bright, intense light revealed nothing.
He swore to himself, extending his arms in front of him for something to
grasp. As he groped for a solid, the light became more subdued and
shifted from white into a light, pleasant blue. Shapes and forms rearranged themselves in front of him and gradually
became distinguishable. He was in a city, or on top of a city. A
panoramic view was before him and he saw the creations of human beings,
obviously, but a culture far removed from his. A slight path of white
began at his feet and expanded as it fell slightly, ramplike, over and
into the city... Continue reading book >>
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Science |
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