Childs Play

Countdown for blast off. X-5, 4, 3, 2, X-1. Fire. From the far horizon of the unknown come transcribed tales of new dimensions in time and space. These are stories of the future. Adventures in which you'll live in a million could be years on a thousand maybe worlds.

The National Broadcasting Company in cooperation with Street and Smith, publishers of astounding science fiction presents... buying it. Mine is fine. The night story. Child's play by William Ken. My name Sam Weber.

My job and attorney. And the presuccessful one. If I do say so myself. Maybe you won't believe it. My best friends find it hard to believe. But I used to be a completely different guy.

Brighton, sickly, nearsighted, a real mortimer meak. No kidding. That was ten years ago. The big change in me began to take place on a cold December morning in 1955. Just a moment please. Yes please.

Webber. Yes. Samuel. That's right. Okay Jack, step back. Alright fellas, bring it in. Just a moment. You must have the wrong. Watch it Jack. Sign here. Is that for me? Webber, God and departments. It looks like a coffin.

I don't design them Jack. I just deliver them. Sign here. After much straining, I wasn't in very good physical shape those days. I managed to push the box under my single light bulb. There was a card in a small envelope.

Let's see. To Sam from your classmates at the Interdimensional and Cosmic Institute, Merry Christmas. 2155. Holy jumping catfish. Hey, Mr. Hey, Mr. There must be some mistake. Hey! Holy jumping! They were gone. And I didn't even know which delivery company it was.