Transcriber's Note:

This etext was produced from the 1963 book publication of the story.Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the copyright onthis publication was renewed.

Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected withoutnote.

* * * * *

Since the publication of BRAIN TWISTER (Pyramid Book F-783), Mark(Laurence M. Janifer) Phillips (Randall Philip Garrett) has, or have,undergone several changes. In order to keep the reader posted on thelatest developments regarding this author, or these authors, he, orthey, has, or have, passed on the following details:

GARRETT is still engaged. He and his charming fiancee plan to run outof excuses during the early Fall of 1994, but this date may be changedat any time by mutual agreement, or the end of the world. He has givenup an interest in river pollution in favor of a new hobby, gradingtype-cleaner. Garrett, who spends an hour each day expanding hisrepertoire, now claims the ability to distinguish year and vineyardfor over one thousand type-cleaners.

JANIFER is still on the other hand. He has had his eyeglasses cleaned,and is happy to report that he has recently met a woman. The woman,however, seems to have been looking for a man. Janifer's hobbies,humming and blinking, remain constant, but in an effort to add morehealthful activity to his life he has begun training in leaping toconclusions. He states that he can now clear a conclusion of betterthan seven feet, eight and one-half inches from a running start.

THE IMPOSSIBLES was written in six days. On the seventh day, nothingof any interest whatsoever occurred.

The Impossibles

Mark Phillips

To John J.,

without whose accident in 1945 this series would not have beenpossible.

1

The sidewalk was as soft as a good bed. Malone lay curled on it,thinking about nothing at all. He was drifting off into a wonderfuldream, and he didn't want to interrupt it. There was this girl, abeautiful girl, more wonderful than anything he had ever imagined,with big blue eyes and long blonde hair and a figure that made theaverage pin-up girl look like a man. And she had her soft white handon his arm, and she was looking, up at him with trust and devotion andeven adoration in her eyes, and her voice was the softest possiblewhisper of innocence and promise.

"I'd love to go up to your apartment with you, Mr. Malone," she said.

Malone smiled back at her, gently but with complete confidence. "Callme Ken," he said, noticing that he was seven feet tall and superblymuscled. He put his free hand on the girl's warm, soft shoulder andshe wriggled with delight.

"All right—Ken," she said. "You know, I've never met anyone like youbefore. I mean, you're so wonderful and everything."

Malone chuckled modestly, realizing, in passing, how full and rich hisvoice had become. He felt a weight pressing over his heart, and knewthat it was his wallet, stuffed to bursting with thousand-dollarbills.

But was this a time to think of money?

No, Malone told himself. This was the time for adventure, for romance,for love. He looked down at the girl and put his arm around her waist.She snuggled closer.

He led her easily down the long wide street to his car at the end ofthe block. It stood in godlike solitude, a

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