Stern sank down, burning slowly, a crimson flush rising in his face. Only half a dozen murders in two years, he thought. No more politics, no more to write about. He had to have a story, just had to have one. He'd go crazy if something didn't happen soon. His brain was clicking furiously. A calliope of thought was tooting in his subconscious. He had to have a story. He turned and looked at his wife, Bella, who stood watching the air traffic go by the window, bending over the sill, looking down into the street fifty floors below.... ... and then he reached slowly and quietly for his atomic gun. * * * * * AN EXPLANATION: You may have wondered why I placed the Technocrat story and article in FuFa. Well, it's because I think Technocracy combines all of the hopes and dreams of science-fiction. We've been dreaming about it for years--now, in a short time it may become reality. It surely deserves support from any serious fictioneer. And you can't say this mag isn't balanced!--first I give you Yorke's article on Tech., then I give you a satire on the same thing, jabbing at it in a good-humoured way, and then--when you read Ackerman's article, you'll see almost the complete annihilation of EARTH. So, whether you are an optimist or a pessimist about the future of humanity, you'll find either side in FuFa. (But on the side, I'm all for the Technate, aegh!) Ye Editor.... * * * * * This being the first issue of FuFa I feel fortunate in being able to offer a piece of scientifiction by the field's most famous fan. THE RECORD was written first in 1929, scarcely more than a sketch, on two pages. Ackerman was thirteen. ED EARL REPP, LA author of THE RADIUM POOL, said of it: "I found it delighting and exceptionally interesting for the writing of a boy so young." Ackerman re-wrote it into a three page story, later, the present product. It has not been touched since. It is not being retouched now. Allow me to present THE RECORD as a _record_ of how Forrie wrote, spelled and punctuated six years ago at the age of sixteen. _ED._ THE RECORD by FORREST J. ACKERMAN For twenty years--for twenty long, horror filled, war laden years the Earth had not known peace. Hovering over the metropolises of the world came long, lean battle projectiles, glinting silver in the sunlight or coming like gaunt mirages of grey out of the midnight sky to blast man's civilization from its cultural foundations. Man against man, ship against ship--a ceaseless and useless orgy of slaughter. Men, at their battle stations in the ships, pressed buttons, releasing radio bombs that blistered space and lifted whole cities up in shattered pieces and flung them down, grim ruins, reminders of man's ignorant hatreds and suspicions.