Transcribe
Translate
Satellite, v. 1, issue 1, October 1938
Page 18
More information
digital collection
archival collection guide
transcription tips
18 large glass gave back no familiar reflection -- in which case he, David Rodney, was non-existent? It was an aggravating problem, one which seemed to have no solution. Supposing the mirror were destroyed? Would he vanish instantly in the same manner as a reflection would disappear from a smashed mirror, or would he continue to exist as he was now? His eye fell on a large paper weight, and he crossed to the table and picked it up. Of course, there was no basis for his belief...merely a foolish waste of a unique mirror. How could he possibly be a reflection? He, David Rodney, was alive. He could walk, he could breathe, he could think! But... His arm swung in a wide circle, and the glittering missile streaked towards the mirror.... "That manuscript," said William Greenwood, "was written in this very room, ten years ago." I stared round at my surroundings, noting the small table, and the typewriter; the plain walls, devoid of pictures, and the large, oblong gilt frame that adorned the far wall. Greenwood noticed my gaze, and waved vaguely towards the frame, and the bare boards which it enclosed. "There used to be a mirror in there once," he announced. "A mirror!" I echoed, though I was not very surprised. "Yes. A peculiar mirror that would not reflect human beings. So I wrote a story about it...that story you have just read." "Very interesting," I remarked, "but the story obviously isn't finished. It ends in mid air. Did you give it up as a bad job?" He did not reply at once, but stood very still.
Saving...
prev
next
18 large glass gave back no familiar reflection -- in which case he, David Rodney, was non-existent? It was an aggravating problem, one which seemed to have no solution. Supposing the mirror were destroyed? Would he vanish instantly in the same manner as a reflection would disappear from a smashed mirror, or would he continue to exist as he was now? His eye fell on a large paper weight, and he crossed to the table and picked it up. Of course, there was no basis for his belief...merely a foolish waste of a unique mirror. How could he possibly be a reflection? He, David Rodney, was alive. He could walk, he could breathe, he could think! But... His arm swung in a wide circle, and the glittering missile streaked towards the mirror.... "That manuscript," said William Greenwood, "was written in this very room, ten years ago." I stared round at my surroundings, noting the small table, and the typewriter; the plain walls, devoid of pictures, and the large, oblong gilt frame that adorned the far wall. Greenwood noticed my gaze, and waved vaguely towards the frame, and the bare boards which it enclosed. "There used to be a mirror in there once," he announced. "A mirror!" I echoed, though I was not very surprised. "Yes. A peculiar mirror that would not reflect human beings. So I wrote a story about it...that story you have just read." "Very interesting," I remarked, "but the story obviously isn't finished. It ends in mid air. Did you give it up as a bad job?" He did not reply at once, but stood very still.
grande espelho não devolveu nenhum reflexo familiar - nesse caso ele, Dvid Rodney, era inexistente? Esse era um problema agravante, para o qual parecia não haver solução. Supondo que o espelho fosse destruido? Iria ele instantaneamente desaparecer da mesma maneira que um reflexo sumiria de um espelho quebrado, ou ele iria continuar a existir tal como é agora? Seus olhos pararam em um grande peso de papel, ele se dirigiu até a mesa e o pegou. É claro, não havia embasamento para sua crença... meramente um frívolo desperdicio de um espelho singular. Como ele poderia ser um reflexo? Ele, David Rodney, estava vivo. Ele podia andar, respirar, podia pensar! Mas... Seua braços giraram em um grande circulo, e o projetil brilhante voou em direção ao espelho... "O manuscrito," disse William Greenwood, "foi escrito nesse mesmo quarto, dez anos atrás." Eu olhei ao meu redor, notando a pequena mesa, e a máquina de escrever; as paredes simples, desprovidas de imagens, e a grande e retangular moldura que adornava a parede mais a distante. Greenwood notou meu olhar, e apontou vagamente para a moldura, e a tala em branco a qual anexava. "Costuma haver um espelho ali antes," ele apontou. "Um espelho!" eu ecoei, embora não estivesse muito surpreso. "Sim. Um peculiar espelho que não refletia seres humanos. Então eu escrevi uma história sobre isso... a história que você acabou de ler." "Muito interessante," eu observei, "mas a história obviamentre não está terminada. Ela para pela metade. Você desistiu porquê o trabalho estava ruim?" Ele não respondeu prontamente, mas permaneceu parado.
Hevelin Fanzines
sidebar
