Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 42 — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION The tables were all set for dinner when Martin and Eng- ler got to the big building. They joined Dr. Plauenstein, mathematics, and Dr. Werner, physics, another research team. Engler carried six bot- tles of beer over to them after he had performed the introductions. He was telling a story while filling his own glass and filled it too full. The head was on the point of spilling over the sides. Dr. Martin put the edge of a table knife across the glass. Not a drop of the liquid was lost. | ““Very smart, but how does it work, Dr. Martin?” “I guess the sum of the two semi-heads is larger than the original head,’’ Martin said, and everyone laughed at the scientific attitude applied to the foam on a glass of beer. Everyone but Plauenstein. He got very serious. “Dr. Werner,” he said, “there is your solution.” “You are right,” said Wer- ner, just as seriously. The others wanted to know what problem, but were brushed off. Werner and Plauenstein left the room and moved out on the veranda, where they doodled seriously on the back of an envelope. 108 “‘That’s carrying security a bit too far, don’t you think ?”” said Jack Engler and poured himself another glassful. Allan Todd, former attacker of tavern furniture and lathes, started another cut. He measured the outside diameter with a micrometer, turned the cross-slide in sixty thousandths of an inch and engaged the longitudinal feed. The lathe was running at maximum speed. “This stuff sure ma- chines nice,” he said, looking with pride at the eighty finished cylinders gleaming a whitish grey. He had never turned pure cadmium before. Roy Lane, former guest of the U.S. taxpayer for three years, eight months and four days, had the sheet metal shop all to himself. Brake, bender and seamer, as well as all the other tools, were as new as the name he was using ever since he had met that gentleman on the train. The pile of shipping con- tainers grew every hour. Anton Novotny, tool and die maker, had no more worries. The first few days the lack of a nagging wife had seemed strange. Like having a painful steel sliver comicbooks.com — Ps