PURPLE FOREVER By JACK LEWIS _Three men on Venus ... lolling about in their shirt sleeves and breathing in an atmosphere of chlorine and ammonia that was sure to kill a man in thirty seconds. The pictures lied! ... they must lie! Trick photography?... Inquisitive Carl Keating found the true answer even stranger._ [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories November 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] The envelope was addressed in a bold sprawling hand that barely left room for the seventy-five cent special delivery stamp in the upper right hand corner. It was a nice stamp--a blue one commemorating the fiftieth anniversary of Harvey's first landing on Mars. Carl Keating tore it open. Inside was a single sheet of good paper, typewritten on one side. The message read: Dear Mr. Keating; Must see you at once. Norman Hamlin He'd barely slid the letter back in its wrapper when the desk phone rang. Automatically he pushed the view-plate to a respectful fifteen inches and threw in the video. The screen swirled for a moment in a milky blur, then abruptly a man's head and shoulders jumped into focus. He was a lean, angular-faced man, with thin shoulders and thinner lips, which at the moment were set in a Lincolnish smile. "I'm Dr. Hamlin," the face in the screen announced. "You got my letter?" Carl nodded. "I have your letter doctor, but I'm afraid you have the wrong man. I can't imagine what you'd want to see ME about." The image on the screen expanded as Norman Hamlin leaned toward the view-plate. "You are Major Carl Keating, retired?" the mouth asked. Carl pushed the instrument back hoping the other man would do the same. "Retired as of last Tuesday," he said, "at the tender age of thirty-six. What's on your mind, doctor?" The mouth got bigger till it filled the entire screen. "Major Keating, would it be possible for you to come out to Long Island tonight?" "It would not!" "Please it's...." "Dr. Hamlin," Carl said not bothering to keep the annoyance out of his voice, "in the first place I don't even know who you are; in the second place I'm packing for a vacation in Paris; and in the third place if there's anything I detest, it's talking down someone's throat. Now if you don't mind...." "Wait!" The image on the screen diminished, till over the narrow shoulders Carl could make out a book-lined study, and beyond that a sunken living room. "It's important--very important." "So's my vacation." "Suppose I were to make it worth while to postpone your vacation?" "I'm afraid my while is worth more than you could offer," Keating said bluntly.