Nightmare

Adventures in time and space, transcribed in future tense. The National Broadcasting Company, in cooperation with street and Smith, publishers of astounding science fiction, bring you dimension.

Nobody knows exactly when the nightmare began. They must have planned it for years, though, though, because looking back you can find little incidents here and there, like the concrete mixer in New Jersey that killed the bricklayer, and the time Senator Milburn was sucked into the roto-press at the Capitol office building. Unrelated accidents, we thought at the time,

but they add up now. The day we really should have suspected was when the men walked off the construction job at the New Brook Meadow Atomic Pile on Long Island. I'll never forget that day. I was working as a statistical clerk in the project then, operating one of those miracle computing machines developed to fill the

requirements of Army Ordinance. They called it any act. Mr. Gurney? Oh, uh, yes, fella? The chief wants to see what he's office. Me? You're no longer Samson Gurney. He wants to see you. Oh, well, of course. What do you suppose?

I do not read mine. He leaves or crystal ball. Of course. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. Don't apologize. I'm sorry. And don't wait for me. It's a hawker than a hurry. Yes. I'll go in right away, of course.

Her name was Bella Raskov. She was Mr. Hawk's secretary. I had always thought her a very attractive woman, but for some reason she didn't seem to like me. Of course, on a clerk's salary, I couldn't exactly afford to take ladies to the best places.

But I've often thought that if there weren't such a disparity in our ages, I might have... But then... You wanted to see me, Mr. Hawk? Gurney, I thought those electronic computations were infallible. They are, sir!