WE'RE OFF TO MARS!
By Carlton Furth
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 the bed, and pulled on his trousers. Rising, he poked his feet into frayed slippers and, walking to the door, swung it open.
"Sign here, please!" A little, old man stood in the doorway. He held a large square package under one arm and extended the other, holding out a 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 uniform with a cloth badge on his shallow chest, reading: Time Deliveries, Inc.
Joe took the clipboard and pencil, scrawled his name and frowned with sudden surprise.