The strange little robot machine would create
anything Joe Linger wanted. The catch was, that he
was being told what to create—and didn't know it!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
September 1951
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Joe Linger raised up on one elbow and stared at the door, frowning."Who is it?" he called out.
A muffled voice answered from beyond the cracked, peeling wood."Package for Mr. Joseph Linger!"
"Just a minute!" Joe laid his magazine aside, rolled to the edge of thebed, and pulled on his trousers. Rising, he poked his feet into frayedslippers and, walking to the door, swung it open.
"Sign here, please!" A little, old man stood in the doorway. He held alarge square package under one arm and extended the other, holding outa clipboard and pencil to Joe. He had a thatch of white hair and a red,wrinkled face with blue eyes and a scowl. He wore a loose, blue uniformwith a cloth badge on his shallow chest, reading: Time Deliveries,Inc.
Joe took the clipboard and pencil, scrawled his name and frowned withsudden surprise.
The name on the clipboard list above his was: Pontius Pilate, Rome, 12A.D.
And when he looked up at the scowling little man who was now holdingthe package out to him and extending a hand to receive back hisclipboard and pencil, Joe saw that he was holding the package out withtwo right arms and reaching for the clipboard with two left arms!
Joe fell back a step. "Who in blazes are you?"
"Time Deliveries, Incorporated," the little man chanted. "We guaranteedeliveries to anyone, anywhere, any time. Here's your package, Mr.Linger."
"B-but," Joe stammered, "where'd you come from?"
The little man lifted his lower left hand and fingered his pointedchin. A gleam entered his blue eyes. "Originally, I came from UrsulaMajor," he said. "That's 3428 A.D., by the present calendar. Now, doyou accept this package or—"
"I—I accept!" Joe blurted, grabbing for the package. In his haste, hedropped the clipboard and pencil, but four hands deftly snatched themup before they hit the floor.
"Very well," said the little man. "Good day, Mr. Linger!" He steppedback into the hallway and pulled the door shut.
Joe stood frozen with the large square package clutched to his chest.Then he lunged forward, wrenched at the doorknob, jerked the door open,and leaped out into the hall. "Hey-y-y-y!" his shout wavered off intoweak dismay.
The hallway was empty.
He reentered his room, closed and locked the door carefully, and walkedover to his bed. His dazed eyes wandered to the window, to the dirtybrick wall of the apartment house next door, to the shaft of blazingafternoon sunlight that struck the grimy windowpane. In broad daylight!It had happened in broad daylight!
He sat on the bed, staring at the package in his lap. It was a light,bulky package, wrapped in some silvery gray substance that felt colderand smoother than rubber—more like metal. On one side of the packagewas an inscription in large, bold script:
To: Mr. Joseph Linger
June 27th, 1951, Dark Ages Earth
24 Kens Street, Jersey City, N.J.
United States, North America
He wondered if it was a gag. But the little old man with four armshadn't been a gag!
Finally, Joe opened the package. He merely inserted his thumb into aconspicuous slot at the corner and pushed it around the top edges. Thesilver-gray material parted easily and the lid came