Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 16, 1921 — page 24: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

JASON, “It’s all right, Hansen,” I made answer. “I must have been pretty sound asleep.”’ There wasn’t anything else to say, any use to attempt a fuller explanation. ‘ What time is it?” I ‘asked. “Ten thirty,” said the nurse, consulting a watch on her wrist.. “ You’re sure you feel all right, doctor?” “ Perfectly.” I nodded. “ If you'll with- draw, Dll get up.” She left the room and Hansen followed. I rose and began to dress. Outside a bril- liant sunlight was visible through my win- dows. It showed me familiar objects. The Palosian landscape had faded. It had been after ten when Jason had come to me, too, as it were, speed a parting guest, and now it was half after ten, and I was back on earth. Well, he had told me the gulf could be bridged by the spirit in a flash. Or had he? my garments in a somewhat clumsy fashion. I felt odd. Just what had happened, I asked myself. And it was then that the thing began to seem like a dream to me, really, no matter how vividly real it had seemed while it occurred. Save only for that vividness [ think I would have consid- ered it no more than a dream indeed. But dream or not, it continued to go with me through all the familiar routine of the succeeding days. It kept bobbing up, ‘in all its colorful details. I kept recalling that gorgeous chamber in which I had seen, or seemed to see, Naia of Aphur. I could even recall the soft thud of Lakkon’s metal sandals as he mounted toward Jason, wait- ing to welcome him at the top of a flight of pure white stairs. And I could see again that light I had seen in the purple eyes of Naia—that exquisite look of the Madonna, I had seen in the faces of other new-made mothers, and in their eyes. Yes, if it had been a dream instead of an actual occur- rence, it had been very, very real. For the life of me, I couldn’t decide. The mind of me balked no matter what the spirit decreed. As an actual fact, I wanted to believe I was in a somewhat similar position to men I have known, who tried to accept a religion, feeling their salva- tion depended upon it, and yet could not quite compass full acceptance in the end. SON I fumbled my way into - OF JASON. 15 At the last I settled down to a sort of compromise with myself, based on my recol- lection of Croft’s assertion that he would come to me some time for an astral con- versation, similar to those meetings with Naia he had employed to sway her decision, before he finally won her and that I myself should visit Palos some time again. If those things happened I felt I could give credence without reservation. I did a lot of reading in Croft’s books and waited. But he did not come. A month passed and a little more, ap- proximately such a span of time as they called a Zitran on Palos, where the year was a trifle longer than ours, though divided in similar fashion into twelve periods. I had about settled back into the acceptance of a completely corporeal routine, and then —once more I had word of Jason’s son. “ Murray—Murray,” a voice whispered to me in my slumber. It roused me. I sat up, distinctly con- scious of an intelligent presence in my room. “* Murray—get out of that cloud, and let’s talk,” what seemed a whisper prompted. Something happened. Suddenly I was intensely awake, and I saw—the nebulous form of Jason, seated against the metal rail at the foot of my bed. “That’s better. How would you like to take another trip to Palos?” he inquired. He smiled as he said it, and I answered in similar fashion.. “If I can make the round trip a little quicker I wouldn’t mind it. What’s wrong up there now.” “ Nothing’s wrong up there. Every- thing’s all right. " His expression quickened. ‘ But what happened?” I told him, and he nodded. ‘ Well, this will be different as you'll get back before morning. Murray, both Naia and I want very much that you should be present in so far as you can, two nights from now, at the christening of our son.” The christening of his son. The thing thrilled me. It was real then, and not a dream after all. I had really gone to Palos that night over a month ago, and now— Croft had kept his promise. He was here asking me to essay the venture again. “Of course,” he said as I delayed my COnlCOoO S (C@