Det var en bok eller en novell som jag måste ha läst på 60-talet eller 70-talet.
"Postpaid to Paradise" aka "Postmarked for Paradise" aka "The Marvelous Frimärken från El Dorado ", en kort historia av Robert Arthur , första berättelsen i hans Murchison Morks serien; även svaret på den gamla frågan Frimärken som nästan kan leverera brev eller paket direkt till alla destinationer . Först publicerad i Argosy , 15 juni 1940 , skrivs det ut igen i Tidningen Fantasy och Science Fiction , Winter-Spring, 1950 , som finns tillgängligt på Internetarkiv . Några av dessa omslag ser bekanta ut?
Jag tror att frimärkena var från en plats som heter El Dorado
Across the top of them was a line in bold print: FEDERATED STATES OF EL DORADO. Then, on either side, about the center, the denomination. And at the bottom, another line, Rapid Post.
Jag kommer ihåg ett par vänner som kommer över några frimärken
I found them again one night, almost by accident, when I was rummaging around in the back of a drawer, looking for an envelope in which to post a letter I had just written to my best friend, Harry Norris. Harry was at the time living in Boston.
It so happened that the only envelope I could find was the one in which I had been keeping those stamps of my father's. I emptied them out, addressed the envelope, and then, after I had sealed the letter inside, found my attention attracted to those five strange stamps.
som hade vackra levande bilder av fantastiska varelser i ett magiskt landskap. Jag minns författaren som talar om djupt blått vatten med varmt solstrålande mousserande och magiska, färgglada varelser som simmar och hoppar i havet.
Now, staring at them, I began to wonder whether that dealer had known his business. They were done so well, the engraving executed with such superb verve, the colors so bold and attractive, that it hardly seemed likely any forger could have gotten them up.
It is true the subjects they depicted were far from usual. The ten-cent value, for instance, pictured a unicorn standing erect, head up, spiral horn pointing skyward, mane flowing, the very breathing image of life.
It was almost impossible to look at it without knowing that the artist had worked with a real unicorn for a model. Except, of course, that there weren't any unicorns any more.
The fifty-center showed Neptune, trident held aloft, riding a pair of harnessed dolphins through a foaming surf. It was just as real as the first.
The one-dollar value depicted Pan playing on his pipes, with a Greek temple in the background, and three fauns dancing on the grass. Looking at it, I could almost hear the music he was making.
De lade ett av frimärkena på ett paket och paketet steg upp i luften och flög sedan ut genom fönstret och försvann i avståndet. (Jag kommer inte ihåg vad som fanns i paketet - men det kan ha varit viktigt.)
Det var en katt som heter Thomas à Becket. (Katten kom tillbaka.)
For a moment, nothing whatever happened.
And then, just as disappointment was gathering on Harry Norris' countenance, the box holding Thomas à Becket rose slowly into the air, turned like a compass needle, and began to drift with increasing speed toward the open window.
By the time it reached the window, it was moving with racehorse velocity. It shot through and into the open. We rushed to the window and saw it moving upward in a westerly direction, above the Manhattan skyline.
And then, as we stared, it began to be vague in outline, misty; and an instant later had vanished entirely.
Nästa en av kompisarna lade de övriga frimärkena på en annan kartong och klättrade sig in i sig själv.
"[. . .] We've got three stamps left—nine dollars' worth altogether. That should be enough. I'm a bit lighter; you've been taking on weight lately, I see. Four dollars should carry me—the one and the three. That leaves the five-dollar for you.
"As for the address, we'll write than on tags and tie them to our wrists. You have tags, haven't you? Yes, here's a couple in this drawer. Now give me that pen and ink. Something like this ought to do very well . . ."
He wrote, then held the tags out to me. They were just alike. Office of the Postmaster General, they said. Nirvana, Federated States of El Dorado. Perishable. Handle With Care.
"Now," he said, "we'll each tie one to our wrist—"
But I drew back. Somehow I couldn't quite nerve myself to it. Delightful as the prospects he had painted of the place, the idea of posting myself into the unknown, the way I had sent off Thomas à Becket, did something queer to me.
Paketet lyfte upp och flög ut genom fönstret,
Thomas à Becket was sitting up and staring toward the window. The curtains were still fluttering. I hurried over. But Norris was not in sight.
lämnar den återstående personen för att alltid undra om hans vän hade kunnat gå till det magiska landet som illustrerades på frimärkena.
"So that's what became of your set of rarities!" he said, with a scarcely veiled sneer. "Very interesting and entertaining. But there's one point I want to clear up. The stamps were issued by the Federated States of El Dorado, you say. Well, I've just been looking through this atlas, and there's no such place on earth."
Morks looked at him, his melancholy countenance calm.
"I know it," he said. "That's why, after glancing through my own atlas that day, I didn't keep my promise to Harry Norris and use that last stamp to join him. I'm sorry now. When I think of how Harry must be enjoying himself there—
"But it's no good regretting what I did or didn't do. I couldn't help it. The truth is that my nerve failed me, just for a moment then, when I discovered there was no such place as the Federated States of El Dorado—on earth, I mean."