The Fourth Time Travel by Fritz Leiber & R. A. Lafferty & Keith Laumer & Ron Goulart & Avram Davidson

The Fourth Time Travel by Fritz Leiber & R. A. Lafferty & Keith Laumer & Ron Goulart & Avram Davidson

Author:Fritz Leiber & R. A. Lafferty & Keith Laumer & Ron Goulart & Avram Davidson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: science fiction, time travel, pulp fiction, adventure, future
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2016-11-13T16:00:00+00:00


RATTLE OK, by Harry Warner, Jr.

Originally published in Galaxy Science Fiction, December 1956.

The Christmas party at the Boston branch of Hartshorne-Logan was threatening to become more legendary than usual this Christmas.

The farm machinery manager had already collapsed. When he slid under the table containing the drinks, Miss Pringle, who sold millinery, had screamed: “He’ll drown!”

One out of every three dirty stories started by party attendees had remained unfinished, because each had reminded someone else of another story.

The recently developed liquors which affected the bloodstream three times faster had driven away twinges of conscience about untrimmed trees and midnight church services.

The star salesman for mankies and the gentleman who was in charge of the janitors were putting on a display of Burmese foot-wrestling in one corner of the general office. The janitor foreman weighed fifty pounds less than the Burma gentleman, who was the salesman’s customary opponent. So the climax of one tactic did not simply overturn the foreman. He glided through the air, crashing with a very loud thump against the wall.

He wasn’t hurt. But the impact knocked the hallowed portrait of H. H. Hartshorne, co-founder, from its nail. It tinkled imposingly as its glass splintered against the floor.

The noise caused a temporary lull in the gaiety. Several employes even felt a passing suspicion that things might be getting out of hand.

“It’s all in the spirit of good, clean fun!” cried Mr. Hawkins, the assistant general manager. Since he was the highest executive present, worries vanished. Everyone felt fine. There was a scurry to shove the broken glass out of sight and to turn more attention to another type of glasses.

Mr. Hawkins himself, acting by reflex, attempted to return the portrait to its place until new glass could be obtained. But the fall had sprung the frame at one corner and it wouldn’t hang straight.

“We’d better put old H. H. away for safekeeping until after the holiday,” he told a small, blonde salesclerk who was beneath his attention on any working day.

With the proper mixture of respect and bonhommie, he lifted the heavy picture out of its frame. A yellowed envelope slipped to the floor as the picture came free. Hawkins rolled the picture like a scroll and put it into a desk drawer, for later attention. Then he looked around for a drink that would make him feel even better.

A sorting clerk in the mail order department wasn’t used to liquor. She picked up the envelope and looked around vaguely for the mail-opening machine.

“Hell, Milly, you aren’t working!” someone shouted at her. “Have another!”

Milly snapped out of it. She giggled, suppressed a ladylike belch and returned to reality. Looking at the envelope, she said: “Oh, I see. They must have stuck it in to tighten the frame. Gee, it’s old.”

Mr. Hawkins had refreshed himself. He decided that he liked Milly’s voice. To hear more of it, he said to her: “I’ll bet that’s been in there ever since the picture was framed. There’s a company legend that that picture was put up the day this branch opened, eighty years ago.



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