Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 41 — page 33: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION and then back at the mirror. He moved from side to side and watched his reflection move with him. Then he turned upon Knaut, and spoke with shaking but icy voice. “Is this your perverted idea of a joke, Herr Doktor?” ““Why——”” Knaut gasped. “It—I mean—you look ex- actly like——” “Like a young Winston Churchill!” the duplicate snarled. A perplexed and sickly look came into Knaut’s face. Stroth- meyer stood, holding his breath. “B-but,” stuttered Knaut, “who else would you want to look like?”’ Churchill Two’s hand closed on a kilogram weight which had been left, inadvertently, on the table. “There is no one I want to look like but my- self,” he said, through clenched teeth. Knaut backed away from him, paleasa ghost. Fear- ing for the mirror, Strothmeyer moved cautiously to slide the panel back across it. Churchill Two still looked straight at Knaut. “But,” he continued, “‘of all the people in the world I would hate to resemble, Win- ston Churchill is at the top of 32 the list!’’ His arm tensed, and the kilo tipped on the table top. Strothmeyer closed the panel with a click. Churchill Two spun toward the noise, but at that moment the door to the other room opened, and there stood Churchill One, smiling broadly, in full array. Churchill Two hurled the kilo at him with a cry of rage. The kilo struck Churchill One full on the forehead, and he fell like a stone. Stroth- meyer wailed in despair and .tan to help him. Churchill Two squared his shoulders and looked about him in wary tri- umph. Professor Knaut half leaned and half lay across the table, his face drawn, his lips blue. Strothmeyer laboured over Churchill One, but there was no response. The brass weight had struck squarely and with the full force of Churchill Two’s maniac strength. He who had waited forty years to resume his identity was already deprived of it again. The blow had been fatal. Churchill One was dead. Strothmeyer shook his head and sobbed. “It’s no use!” he said. “It’s no use!” comiclbooks.conn