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Preview

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Title: Preview

Author: Frank Belknap Long

Illustrator: Ed Emshwiller

 
Release date: February 28, 2026 [eBook #78072]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: King-Size Publications, Inc., 1955

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/78072

Credits: Tom Trussel (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PREVIEW ***

 Preview

 by Frank Belknap Long

 _Have you ever sat in a movie theater and permitted your imagination
 to take you far beyond the events depicted on the screen? Perhaps we
 all do this at times. But this tragedy in minuscule should give you
 pause and cure you of the habit forever._ The flying saucer folk may
 just happen to be watching you.

 =Mr. Scanlon had reasons of his own for insisting on a preview. But
 what they were nobody knows!=

"What every discerning theatergoer is searching for," said Mr. Scanlon,
"is a kind of sixth-sense heightening of perception. I choose to call
it a superseding experience--a blotting out of the mundane and familiar
and the substitution of the totally unexpected. In short, a superior
vision of reality. Stella, you see, is a 'stripped' actress."

Mr. Scanlon looked about him, and smiled. "No, gentlemen. I'm not being
Rabelaisian, or thinking of the burlesque stage. She's a 'stripped'
actress in the sense that the kind of realism I've been talking about
is her guiding star. Everything else--every shred of romantic or
sentimental tinsel--has been stripped away."

"But, Mr. Scanlon! Surely--"

"Gentlemen, I think you'll agree that her first liaison with Hollywood
has carried her to heights undreamed of in your philosophy--if drama
critics can legitimately be said to possess a philosophy."

"But, Mr. Scanlon--"

"Gentlemen, be patient. Relax. You'll never see another preview like
this, and you must enjoy it to the full. There go the lights."

The lights dimmed and the long, cinemascopic screen brimmed with a
deep-toned miracle of radiance.

Into the Black Hills on a white charger rode Robert Mitchum. The epoch
which was to resound with his deeds of valor was not immediately
determinable. But from the peaceful aspect of the landscape everyone
took it for granted that it was B.C. (Before Custer)--until the new
techniques of sound dispersal which convey an illusion of torment in
depth went into action. From every nook and cranny of the theater
rifles cracked in earsplitting synchronization.

It was no run-of-the-hill Western. Every part was played to perfection,
against the kind of historically realistic background that had made
"Shane" and a scant dozen lesser pictures classics of their kind.

The critics flanking Mr. Scanlon realized this, and unlimbering their
fastidious brows they started scribbling.

"There she is," said Mr. Scanlon. "Gentlemen, this should be your most
rewarding moment."

Into the center of that scenic magnificence stepped Stella. Her blonde
loveliness was peculiarly her very own, and it was easy to see that
everything was just right for her.

"No powder, no cream, no lipstick," murmured Mr. Scanlon.

"But surely, Mr. Scanlon, she's made up for the screen--"

"Historically makeup would have been an anachronism," Mr. Scanlon
pointed out. "The women of that age had to get along as best they
could. Remember Calamity Jane? She was as ugly as a warthog, but her
lovers were legion."

There was a brief dimming of the radiance. And then, into the Black
Hills on a pulsing shape of darkness rode--

"It's Humpty Dumpty!" someone gasped.

"No."

"No, it's got tentacles. Can't you see? They must have been shooting
one of those science fiction pictures on another set. One of the extras
must have strayed by accident--"

"And he's waving them. Look!"

"Good grief, how did that bomb crater get there?"

"It's unbelievable! She's changing into a seal!"

The divine Stella was indeed changing. But no seal--or mermaid--had
ever gone flapping over the Western hills on eight dangling appendages,
blue-green in hue.

Of course the hills were no longer the Black Hills of the Dakotas. But
no one could ask Mr. Scanlon about that because he had disappeared.
One moment he had been leaning forward in his seat, alert and smiling.
Then he was gone. He had simply vanished--dwindled and faded into
nothingness like an unstable isotope assailed by some invisible energy
source.

No narrative is complete if it does not terminate with some sort of
explanation. But how could there be one when no man or woman on Earth
would ever know where Mr. Scanlon went, or why he had insisted on a
preview in the first place?

How could there be one when there was no one to remember--no one to
recall how _They_ landed in numbers from their flat, saucer-like ships
exactly one week later, and took care to strip from the minds of men
all proudly treasured knowledge of the many-splendored things of Earth?

Transcriber's Note:

 This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe, January 1956 (Vol. 4,
No. 6). Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
copyright on this publication was renewed.

 Obvious errors in punctuation have been silently corrected in this
version, while spelling and hyphenation have been kept as is.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PREVIEW ***

 

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