Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 41 — page 116: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Science can be inhuman at times even when dealing with essentially human affairs—like having babies TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY MOTHER by Katherine Marcuse The punched card weighed heavily in her hand. It meant so much ... but there was no other way. She knew that. She'd thought about it ... thought a lot... since that morning... that terrible morning ... The slacks wouldn’t fasten around her swelling waistline. Fine. Mike didn’t like women in slacks anyway. With a pleased smile, Amuri kicked them off and pressed a button that brought a soft, blue statelectric gown from the dress dispenser. Mike would like this, though. She could hear him moving about in the next room, getting her breakfast out of the quick-thaw cabinet. Dear Mike, she _ thought, tenderly, up to the ears in work at the lab, but still he had time for something like that. : She moved to the door and smiled at him as he pulled out her chair. “You'll have to pull it out a good deal farther than that soon,” she laughed. “Ummmm...?” “You’re thinking,” Amuri accused. “‘This is breakfast. No meconium till 9.30. No meduse. No meroblasts. Just us, remember ?”’ He smiled absently. “Okay, sweetheart. New juice this morning. Like it?” “Um,” she said, doubtfully. “It’s different. A mixture. Papaya... a little pomegran- ate ... or are you pulling a synthetic on me again?” He grinned. “Yep. The latest thing in peptised protein with a dash of Mike-made citramins. Good for you. So are eggs. Eat ’em!” Funny, they tasted different. They had yesterday, too, she remembered. For a moment her stomach rebelled. Good heavens! What was it she’d heard about in old wives’ tales—morning sickness? But of course not! 115 comiclooks.conn