Countdown for blast off.

X minus 5, 4, 3, 2,

X minus 1, fire.

X minus 1, fire.

From the far horizons 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 Galaxy Science Fiction Magazine presents

X, X, X, X, X, X, X.

X minus, minus, minus, minus, minus, minus.

1, 1, 1, 1.

Tonight, the old die rich by H.L. Gold.

The uniformed cop at the door told me to get lost.

The blue paper spotted me and told the man to let me in.

It was a shabby room they always are.

It was a woman on the bed, an old woman with white hair, thin enough to show the tight drawn scalp.

The medical examiner was going over her as if she were a side of beef that you had to put a federal grade stamp on.

When are you going to stop taking this ham frame of yours around to these cases out and just to gratify his morbid curiosity?

Forget about Weldon Duck.

What did she die of?

Not eating malnutrition.

I looked duck in the top bureau drawer.

...