Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 41 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

THE PHOENIX NEST called a field. It might be called an essence. But, what- ever it might be called, it was not now present in the two Churchills, and it was not going to be generated by the pulsing, mindless dolls which had been grown in the lab- oratory from a few cells. It would come from another quarter entirely. The frightened but clearly intelligible words of Carlos Delgado had proved that. “One minute I am dying. The next minute I am here. My name is Carlos Delgado. Please tell me where I am.’ These were not thoughts which could have been generated by cells from Louis the Gimp. They were from another coun- try and another person. Strothmeyer shook his head. It was a deep mystery, but one that had to be fathomed. He checked the circulation rate of Churchill One, then crossed to the Churchill Two panel and equalised the rate there. The two Churchills were to have as nearly the same environment as possible. Professor Knaut was not in the laboratory a great deal 21 during Strothmeyer’s tours of duty. This was inevitable, since no outsider could be trusted to tend the two Churchills, and the scientists had to sleep some _ time. Strothmeyer had brought a bed into the laboratory, and he frequently slept there, where he could see the duplicates merely by turning his head. Alone in the laboratory for many hours of the day and night, Strothmeyer had a lot of time for thinking. One of the things he thought about was Carlos Delgado. He wondered how Carlos was managing, a stranger in a strange land. or _ several weeks running he placed ad- vertisements in La Prensa, the Spanish-language newspaper in New York, thinking that the most likely place for Carlos to have gone. He offered Carlos assistance and asked him to write or *phone, but it was no use. Carlos had disappeared. Then, toward the end of the duplicates’ gestation, a news- paper story put an end to Strothmeyer’s search. It was only a small headline, since Louis the Gimp had been only a small-time criminal. It said: conmmicloooks.comn