PLACEBO
By DAVID MASON
Each 1955 was worse than the last!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Infinity Science Fiction, November 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The object appeared in the middle of Main Way, about fifty feet from the statue of Vachel Lindsay, and at least a hundred from anything else. It was much too big and complicated to have been hidden anywhere, and it hadn't any wheels, tracks, wings, or other visible means of movement.
Corrigan, looking the object over, decided that it could not have come from any logical place in the world. Not being prejudiced, he then thought a little about the illogical places, and the places that weren't in the world. Corrigan decided that it must be another attempt at time travel, and he clucked his tongue sympathetically.
Well, someone had to break the news. Corrigan arose from the grass and walked toward the object.
There was a young man sitting in the object, on a sort of high saddle. He looked a little wild-eyed, and he seemed to be talking to himself, as he pulled and twisted at the rows of controls in front of him. Corrigan, looking up at him, decided that he couldn't be very healthy, and that the stiff gray garments he wore must be extremely uncomfortable.
"Greetings, traveler," Corrigan called.