Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 42 — page 132: what you’re looking at

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

PROCESS A long time ago Kermit had lost his sense of the ridiculous, but this was too much. “Once before,’ he said, “this came up. I did some figuring. The amount of elec- tricity wasted as against even a minimum I assumed used by this one Section was in- finitesimal. Since I helped design the piles that furnish the current I know we’re in no danger of running short— not for a thousand years. Therefore, waste has nothing to do with it.” The pencil literally raced over the notebook page. Ker- mit realised he had gone too far, but he was not of a mind to retreat. “Then what has it to do with ?” ““Nothing,”’ Kermit snapped “Conformity. I’m to turn off the light because I’m to turn off the light. Because all of us are to turn off lights. Another nail in the coffin of routine.” The pencil raced again. Black eyes studied Kermit as though he were an_ insect pinned on a board. “This will be reported.” The Servant jerked his head toward the lab. ‘“‘Now. It is time for Father’s talk.’’ Kermit moved briskly into the lab. This was not some- 131 thing to discuss, to even appear to think about. One simply did not miss Father’s talks. Besides, this had been an order. It had been several years since Kermit had seen anyone disobey a Servant’s order, but he imagined that Servants still carried trun- cheons, still knew how to use them. Grath was watching Kermit from under drooping lids. Very much, Kermit thought, like a citizen of the Middle Ages watching an avowed heretic. Probably wondering why lightning hadn’t struck. Down in the seventh tier were the libraries, and it was there Kermit went after Father’s talk. The talk today had concerned the battle with ENEMY, but really it had not differed much from _ yester- day’s talk. Or that of the day before. Basically, Kermit realised, they were all the same. They began with a tirade against ENEMY, a few hate slogans, a reminder that the slightest slip meant defeat and disaster, and finally the assurance that Father would protect us and see US through to certain ~ victory. comiclbooks.con