Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 41 — page 130: what you’re looking at

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

KIDS’ GAME we actually prepare for the— Landings?” Jake narrowed his eyes and set his mouth. “Never discuss our otjective here. Never!’ he snapped. 5 APRS ERE gy But the older boy softened. “All right, Phil. We're all anxious to... get on with it. But our first job is to grow up. To grow up as natural, nor- mal Terrans—your body is entirely that of any other kid your age, you know.” gly aay “And, like IJ was saying tonight, so are your emotions. If you feel you need some therapy...” “No,” sighed Phil. “It’s just that—well, what will it be like when we...?” “We aren’t permitted to ask that, Phil. We will do what we can to make the transition period easy for Terra.” “And it will be good, won’t it?’ urged Phil, almost eagerly. “The Coming of .. . will be good for Terra.” “You must never, never doubt that,”’ Jake said, levelly. A chilly wind caught Phil as he pushed aside the brush and stepped up on the top of the embankment and faced the dimly lit street. The late autumn air pierced his thin jacket and blew at his unruly blond hair. His house, he noted, showed a single, dim light in the living room. This was not good. It was short of ten o’clock, but too late for a school night. Late enough, perhaps, for his parents to have called George Stacy. Normally, of course, they would not call. To do so might imply that they did not trust him. And yet—if he were very late they might rationalise away the apparent breach of trust... Breach of trust! He was thinking in terms of petty Terran morality again. It was simply unfortunate that he had had to lie. Usually he did not have to. Never before had the meeting fallen on family night. Tonight he had lied simply because there was no way to avoid it. He paused outside the house to stamp dust and small gravel off his shoes, then he climbed 129 commicloooks.comnn