I met the prolific James Van Pelt at an sf convention in Denver, where he kindly had coffee with me and signed my baseball. We talked about one of his students who later came to Boulder to study computer science. I had misinterpreted a biography of Van Pelt in Analog as if it were an obituary, so I was happy to see the outstanding writer alive and writing. Oh! And he wrote (among other things) this fine story of Weena from the moment that H. G. Wells’s Traveller rescued her from the river.
—Michael Main
Then a vice clamped her upper arm. A surge. A tremendous force, and she was clear of the stream. Air! There was air to breathe, but all she could do was cough. She was being carried. Her cheek rested on skin. Hough arms wrapped her close until they were on the bank. Gently, her rescuer put her down. Rock warmed her back; her hands lay flat in the heat, her head dropped onto the warmth. Against the sky stood a figure stragely shaped. Weena’s vision swirled—she could barely focus—but before she passed out, she saw in wonder, he was a giant.

Variants

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  1. “What Weena Knew” by James Van Pelt, in Analog, April 2001.
    2. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . written by James Van Pelt