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Merritt, Abraham, 1884-1943

"The Moon Pool"

She
gazed down upon the disk; pressed a digit--and the screen behind us
slipped noiselessly into another angle.
"Put your arm around my waist, Larry, darlin', and stand close," she
murmured. "You, Goodwin, place your arm over my shoulder."
Wondering, I did as she bade; she pressed other fingers upon the
shelf's indentations--three of the rings of vapour spun into intense
light, raced around each other; from the screen behind us grew a
radiance that held within itself all spectrums--not only those seen,
but those _unseen_ by man's eyes. It waxed brilliant and ever more
brilliant, all suffusing, passing through me as day streams through a
window pane!
The enclosing facets burst into a blaze of coruscations, and in each
sparkling panel I saw our images, shaken and torn like pennants in a
whirlwind. I turned to look--was stopped by the handmaiden's swift
command: "Turn not--on your life!"
The radiance behind me grew; was a rushing tempest of light in which I
was but the shadow of a shadow.


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