Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 42 — page 90: what you’re looking at

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

ARISTOTLE bling highway. With Null-A clarity he wasted no time in fruitless exploration of this maze, but drove instead to the first high building and climbed its dusty, ruined stairs to secure a lookout. His gaze ranged carefully over the weathered ruins of the city’s buildings. At last he saw what he was seeking, in towards the centre. The flicker of flame—a fire. He descended quickly and paused for a moment beside his tank. In it his power would be crushing against unarmed men, but against that the noise of his approach could not fail to warn them. He took out a light machine-gun and slung its strap over his shoulders before locking the - tank again. Then, holding his portable compass, he set off towards the direction of the fire. Around him towered the forgotten relics of the past, lifting their weathered towers into the night. They evoked for his Null-A mind no mys- tery; mystery, after all, was a function of non-integration and, therefore, to be despised. He merely tightened his grip on the machine-gun. A man of an earlier age might have felt awe at the sight, as he ad- vanced warily through a nar- 89 row alleyway, of the primitive fire burning in the centre of the deserted and forgotten square, with two figures hunched blackly beside it. Prince John felt only contempt for this flagrant disregard of the laws of self-protection. He advanced more rapidly, his machine-gun at the ready. He called, his voice loud against the low crackle of the fire and the brooding silence of the night: “‘All right! Turn round, you two. Hands high.”’ They looked round without any show of surprise, and leisurely got to their feet. He saw at once, with quick dis- appointment, that they were not the men he sought. They did not wear tank suits, nor any of the trappings of royalty, but a loose, robe-like dress. His mind ran swiftly. At the very least, two new slaves to take back with him to the palace. He said sharply: ‘““Who are you? What the hell are you - up to?” The taller of the two men glanced down at his com- panion. He spoke in a cold but flexible voice: ““He’s only a boy, Joseph.” John said, without pride, simply stating the fact: “lama prince. My questions must be answered. Who are you, and comiclbooks.corn