DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Paradox, v. 2, issue 4, whole no 8

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6 [illustration of man holding gun]
[Text accompanying illustration: "To cancel h[hidden word] a line Jack Engel"]

   Jack Arnold's features were extremely youthful; Jack looked more like a boy of seventeen, than a man of twenty-five-plus years. His hairless cheeks, his soft, blond hair, his friendly gray eyes, all added to the appearance of youthfulness. But there was one thing about Jack that opposed his immature aspect: his expression. Arnold seldom smiled, and constantly wore an expression of severe cynicism and boredom. Jack Arnold was a misanthropist of the first water.
     As far as I know, I was Jack's closest friend, for he had no relatives, and lived a secluded life, in a small laboratory-apartment in the country. Jack was brilliant; he might have made a name for himself in the realm of physics or mathematics, buthhe preferred to keep to himself. As I have said, I was his closest friend, and we had a standing appointment for Friday evening and all day Saturday of each week, to spend just gabbing.
    At these sessions, we would sit and talk of any wild subjects of which we might think. To Jack, it was a relief from almost a week of continual lab work. To me, it was interesting, and, at times, educational. Sometimes it was just plain "mimsy". Like the time I happened to mention killing your grandfather--before your father was born. Jack became curious, and I explained the killing-your-own-grandfather theme so common among stories dealing with temponautics. It was, I explained, the bug-a-boo of science fiction writers, and that few ever came through with a logical and satisfying solution. Either Grandfather recovered, or he died and grandson no longer existed (that, of course, is paradoxical), or the grandson takes his grandfather's place to become his own grandpa. All, to Jack, were unsatisfying, as they had been to me, and we spend the remaining hours of that day speculating on the possible results of such a homicide-one which would be, in effect, a suicide.
     When I left Jack that night, he looked, for the first time in months, as if he were excited about something. [illegible] for the next week, upon my entrance, he ushered me

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6 [illustration of man holding gun] [Text accompanying illustration: "To cancel h[hidden word] a line Jack Engel"] Jack Arnold's features were extremely youthful; Jack looked more like a boy of seventeen, than a man of twenty-five-plus years. His hairless cheeks, his soft, blond hair, his friendly gray eyes, all added to the appearance of youthfulness. But there was one thing about Jack that opposed his immature aspect: his expression. Arnold seldom smiled, and constantly wore an expression of severe cynicism and boredom. Jack Arnold was a misanthropist of the first water. As far as I know, I was Jack's closest friend, for he had no relatives, and lived a secluded life, in a small laboratory-apartment in the country. Jack was brilliant; he might have made a name for himself in the realm of physics or mathematics, buthhe preferred to keep to himself. As I have said, I was his closest friend, and we had a standing appointment for Friday evening and all day Saturday of each week, to spend just gabbing. At these sessions, we would sit and talk of any wild subjects of which we might think. To Jack, it was a relief from almost a week of continual lab work. To me, it was interesting, and, at times, educational. Sometimes it was just plain "mimsy". Like the time I happened to mention killing your grandfather--before your father was born. Jack became curious, and I explained the killing-your-own-grandfather theme so common among stories dealing with temponautics. It was, I explained, the bug-a-boo of science fiction writers, and that few ever came through with a logical and satisfying solution. Either Grandfather recovered, or he died and grandson no longer existed (that, of course, is paradoxical), or the grandson takes his grandfather's place to become his own grandpa. All, to Jack, were unsatisfying, as they had been to me, and we spend the remaining hours of that day speculating on the possible results of such a homicide-one which would be, in effect, a suicide. When I left Jack that night, he looked, for the first time in months, as if he were excited about something. [illegible] for the next week, upon my entrance, he ushered me

6 [illustrazione di un uomo che impugna la pistola] [Illustrazione di accompagnamento del testo: "Per cancellare h [parola nascosta] una riga di Jack Engel"] I lineamenti di Jack Arnold erano estremamente giovanili;  Jack sembrava più un ragazzo di diciassette anni che un uomo di più di venticinque anni.  Le sue guance glabre, i suoi capelli biondi e morbidi, i suoi amichevoli occhi grigi, tutto sommato all'aspetto della giovinezza.  Ma c'era una cosa in Jack che si opponeva al suo aspetto immaturo: la sua espressione.  Arnold sorrideva di rado e mostrava costantemente un'espressione di severo cinismo e noia.  Jack Arnold era un misantropo della prima acqua.  Per quanto ne so, ero l'amico più intimo di Jack, perché non aveva parenti e viveva una vita appartata, in un piccolo appartamento-laboratorio in campagna.  Jack è stato brillante;  avrebbe potuto farsi un nome nel campo della fisica o della matematica, ma preferiva restare per sé.  Come ho già detto, ero il suo più caro amico e avevamo un appuntamento fisso per venerdì sera e tutto il giorno il sabato di ogni settimana, da passare solo a chiacchierare.  In queste sessioni, ci sedevamo e parlavamo di qualsiasi argomento selvaggio a cui potevamo pensare.  Per Jack, è stato un sollievo da quasi una settimana di continuo lavoro di laboratorio.  Per me è stato interessante e, a volte, educativo.  A volte era semplicemente "mimetico".  Come la volta che mi è capitato di menzionare l'uccisione di tuo nonno, prima che nascesse tuo padre.  Jack si è incuriosito e ho spiegato il tema dell'uccidere il nonno così comune tra le storie che trattano di temponautica.  È stato, ho spiegato, il bug-a-boo degli scrittori di fantascienza, e che pochi hanno mai trovato una soluzione logica e soddisfacente.  O il nonno si è ripreso, oppure è morto e il nipote non esisteva più (questo, ovviamente, è paradossale), oppure il nipote prende il posto del nonno per diventare suo nonno.  Tutti, per Jack, erano insoddisfacenti, come lo erano stati per me, e passiamo le restanti ore di quella giornata a speculare sui possibili risultati di un simile omicidio, che sarebbe, in effetti, un suicidio.  Quando ho lasciato Jack quella notte, sembrava, per la prima volta da mesi, come se fosse eccitato per qualcosa.  [illeggibile] per la settimana successiva, al mio ingresso, mi ha fatto entrare