He read comic books that had been defunct for three decades. And it was a Blaupunkt, the best radio I could get. And soon afterward, Jeffty and Donny and the terrible and wonderful thing that happened to them ordered itself on paper. And she took him upstairs to bathe away his blood and his pain. For the nameless shadows that were always watching him? It relieved them of the embarrassing chore of going out with him, of having to pretend before the world that they were loving parents with a perfectly normal, happy, attractive child. And neither of us said anything about Captain Midnight all the rest of that day. That is the premise of the story, as Jeffty, the main focus of the story, never grows past the age of five. I motioned to a chair and said, “Just sit down for a while and I’ll be right with you.”. Twice a month we went down to the newsstand and bought the current pulp issues of The Shadow, Doc Savage and Startling Stories. People don’t die from the old diseases any more. But, sadly, Donny is also a part of me. Thus, I remained his only friend. It is a time when the eyes are wide open and the patterns are not yet set; a time when one has not yet been hammered into accepting everything as immutable and hopeless; a time when the hands can not do enough, the mind can not learn enough, the world is infinite and colorful and filled with mysteries. I’d forgotten to drop it off at the store. And I handed him the Code-O-Graph. In an exaggerated tone, "Jeffty Is Five" reminds everyone not to throw out their child-within in the name of progress. There is a reason why the present begrudges the existence of the past. By using this site, you agree to the Terms of Use and Privacy Policy. Leona must have been in the kitchen. I couldn’t ignore it: Jeffty was listening to a new segment of Tennessee led. https://web.archive.org/web/20090519034226/http://www.locusmag.com/SFAwards/Db/LocusAT1999.html, The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, Gentleman Junkie and Other Stories of the Hung-Up Generation, The Beast that Shouted Love at the Heart of the World, Adrift Just Off the Islets of Langerhans: Latitude 38° 54' N, Longitude 77° 00' 13" W, The Beast that Shouted Love at The Heart of the World, The Prowler in the City at the Edge of the World, "Repent, Harlequin!" I sat there for a few moments, then ran the dial slowly from one end to the other. I heard the sound of rock music from upstairs. I have taken what you’ve given me—though you never knew I was watching—and I’ve run it through the purifier of my imagination for the sole purpose of giving it back to you with, I hope, some clarity. We also adored the George Carlson strips in Jingle Jangle Comics, particularly the Pie-Face Prince of Old Pretzleburg stories, which we read together and laughed over, even though I had to explain some of the esoteric puns to Jeffty, who was too young to have that kind of subtle wit. But I did, without reserve. The part of me that grew up in order to deal with the Real World. She seemed always to be seeking some area of wallpapered wall or storage niche into which she could fade, adopt some chintz or rose-patterned protective coloration and hide forever in plain sight of the child’s big brown eyes, pass her a hundred times a day and never realize she was there, holding her breath, invisible. A nice, normal-looking five-year-old kid. The Captain Midnight Code-O-Graph I held in my hand, the one Jeffty said he had gotten in the mail for ten cents (ten cents!!!) Dinner, Saturday afternoons sometimes, an hour or so when I’d bring Jeffty back from a movie. It won the short story Nebula Award in 1977 and Hugo Award in 1978. He particularly liked the new short novel by Henry Kuttner, “The Dreams of Achilles,” and the new Stanley a. Weinbaum series of short stories set in the subatomic particle universe of Redurna. I got to the Kinzers’ right around 4:45. And then I heard Hop say, “CX-4 calling control tower. After what seemed a very long time Leona came downstairs, wiping her hands on her apron. Hey, Jeffty, come on out, let’s go. I do like Walter and Judy. I turned the key and punched on the radio and spun the dial to 790 kilohertz. No one knew who he was or where to find his parents—”. Jeffty was the unbidding Aladdin whose very nature formed the magic lampness of his reality. It had a magnifying glass in the center of the code dial. A young girl wearing an usher’s uniform was kneeling down beside the couch, placing a wet paper towel on his face.

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