Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 44 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION ““A very fine piece of work, my Lord,” said the salesman, slapping the robot on its metal shoulder. ““They really knew how to make them in those days.” It was, in fact, a very old robot, a metal monster. It could have been as much as five thousand years old, and made on some foreign planet too, if I was any judge. _ Definitely not one of our modern robots, which are rather like over-handsome human beings, and much more intelligent. “Does it work?’ I asked. “Certainly, my Lord. Ill fetch the switch-key.”’ I guessed he was keeping his fingers crossed, hoping it would, for it was pretty clear that this particular robot had been standing like a piece of junk in the warehouse for a very long time. He pushed a long thin metal rod into a hole in the monster’s chest and gave it a turn. There was a click, and the thing started to hum. “How quaint!” I com- mented. “Of course,”’ the man said, deprecatingly, “I feel that this model is scarcely suitable for a person of your rank; now in our front showroom... .” ite. what I want,” I in- sisted, “if it’s in working order.” Then I addressed the monster: “My land car is outside. It stands second from the right-hand end of the row. It is the only red machine in the park. Go out to it, drive it round the build- ing, and put it back in the rank, but facing away from the wall instead of towards 1 Bea “Yes, sir,” the robot an- swered. Its voice was just what one would expect from such a thing—grating and toneless. It went off with long stiff strides out of the door of the warehouse. I went over to the window and watched. I saw it emerge into the sunlight, swivel its head along the row of parked land cars and helicopters; and identify mine. It strode to- wards it, paused an instant to identify the controls, and got in. It performed the test rather better than I expected, keeping to the middle of the road with almost mathema- tical precision and parking the land car again with the minimum of manceuvre. Then it strode back into the build- ing, up through the warehouse and returned to its stance against the wall. commicloooks.cohn