Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 43 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

TO-MORROW IS was in such a state of agita- tion that it was easy enough in your case. I find that tiredness _ ornervousnessis a great help in the accuracy of my readings.” *““What’s your name?’ de- manded Michel, suddenly. “Richard Montague. Not that it matters.” He dragged on his cigarette, and Michel saw suddenly that his hands were shaking with fatigue. Half in alarm, he said: ‘‘Do you feel all right ?’’ Montague smiled faintly. “In another hour I'll be on stage for the second house. They’re more critical, and I have to be almost dropping with weariness to impress them. It doesn’t seem to affect my manipulations.” He rolled billiard balls out of nowhere and dropped them clattering in a fountain of red and white into a box on the floor. “How long have you been having these nightmares ?”” “Three months.” “Umph. Being starved of sleep in that way is even worse than starving yourself. I 29 ANOTHER DAY know.”’ He took another pull on his cigarette. Michel suddenly felt an access of self-reprehension. He said: “Look, I oughtn’t to be trespassing on your time this way. You ought to get some rest—I mean, it’s not as if you were a doctor I was consulting. I’ve no right to ask you to do this.”’ He half rose. Montague had- closed his eyes. He said: “I’m offering to help. You aren’t asking. But if you think it’s wrong, you might at least stay and talk to me for a while. I think you could be more interesting than Joe.” se 9 a “The doorkeeper. He can talk nothing but football and racing. I usually chat with him between shows, but he gets on my nerves—what nerves I have left.” Michel settled back into his chair. After all, the only alternatives were a place of entertainment, walking the streets, and sleep—and he couldn’t face the last till he was dropping. He said: “How comiclooks.corn