Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 43 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION that he had not felt since the nightmares began three months before. Something inside him seemed to say: “This is as it should be. This is right. This is according to plan.” It didn’t occur to him to. wonder: whose plan? He recognised the voice at the other end of the line. “Advance Advertising Limited,” the girl said. “This is August, Sandra.” “August! Where on earth are you? The boss is hopping mad!” ‘Let him hop,” said Michel with equanimity. “I won’t be in today—I’m going to see a psychiatrist about my night- mares.” - “That isn’t going to please the Barker,” hinted the girl, darkly. “Are you sure about that trip to the psychiatrist? You sound happier and heal- thier than you have for weeks.” “Last night was so bad I’m just happy to be awake again,” he said. “This is genuine, Sandra.” 12 “All right,”’ sighed the girl. “Tl buy it. But I warned you he’s not going to like it.” To hell with Barker, re- flected Michel. But the girl had been right. He did sound better suddenly, and he knew ~ somehow that it was due, not so much to the immediate prospect of more wealth than he had ever dreamed of possessing, as to it having, somehow, counteracted the sense of wrongness which had become a _ permanent hangover fromthe nightmares. ~ Even as he looked at the letter now, in the cramped telephone cabinet, with the list on the wall, pencil dang- ling on a string beside it for the lodgers to note the cost of their calls, it brought a warm satisfaction. Now—the psychiatrist. There was a name in his mind, and he pulled out the direc- tory and found the number . opposite it. Quonsett, Dr. Vernon, consulting psychiatrist, Harley Street. He had dialed, and was listening to the ring at the conmicloooks.conn