Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 43 — page 41: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION “CAN YOU STILL FEEL IT?” demanded Prentiss. Michel, uncomprehending, shook his head. “Good. Now I know you want to ask ten thousand questions. You can’t. I’m sorry. You're going to listen as if your life depended on it. It doesn’t, I’m pretty certain; but your sanity does, and if you value your sanity less than your life you’re a fool.” “But——” “Shut up. I have ten minutes at least. I may have as much as an hour if ’m lucky. If I can’t tell you the gist of it inside that time, we’re sunk. How old do you think I am?” “Why—why——_””__ Michel was caught off balance by the suddenness of the ques- tion. “‘About twenty-five or six, I should say.” “1’m forty-two. I doubt if T’ll look older than I do now for another seven or eight hundred years. I’m immortal. I’m also a natural telepath.” “What?” “You’re disbelieving but 46 open to conviction, and blind jealous with an _ instinctive and overwhelming envy. There’s no need for that. Apart from haggardness, caused by lack of sleep, you look around twenty-two. You’re thirty. You’re prob- ably as immortal as your father—who was also four times further back, others of your ancestors.” “Incest?” “Incest loses its meaning in a case like his. The prejudice against it stems purely from a fear of reinforcing genetic weaknesses present in near relations by doubling them. Your father had a set of genes that were completely unique. They entered your line five times. The end result is that you—yes, you, August Michel—are the most important single person in the world. You have every one of his faculties and maybe more—though you haven’t developed them yet. “Sit down and listen. — “When you came into my bank this afternoon I was connicloooksacomn