Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, Issue 45 — page 44: what you’re looking at

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

SOME OTHER TIME privately have arrived at, any- body else would consider him a perfect psycho. Laboratory Number One was dark and sombre. To Carpenter it was aimost a second home. He put on a few lights and began to warm up the cosmotron, fiddling with the input and chuckling sar- donically to himself over what the techs down at the pile would be saying when the load came on. This baby really took the power. To accelerate protons so that they collided with the carbon target at around a cosmic meeting of some two thousand two hun- dred million electron-volts needed the sort of input that could only be fed by the piles, buried in their tiled vaults below the research station. This particular cosmotron had been only one of the many tools he had used in shaping the very cell structure of the eight children playing in their Nursery. He had had to be careful. Too much dosage from the artificially produced cosmic 43 rays, endured at such short range, without the atmosphere layers to filter out the dangers, would have blasted and seared the volunteer parents. swung the lensed aperture, dark and cold, and sighted it on the screen. So far, nothing unusual had happened. When it did, he hoped that he would be ready. He began to prowl round the laboratory, poking here and prodding there. ““Now where the blazes did I leave it?” he grumbled aloud for the benefit of any ears that might be listening. Ears. What ears did he expect might be in this lonely laboratory? He didn’t know. What he did know was that something —somebody —had substituted a water tap and a chair which did unnatural things for his own normal possessions. They had played tricks with a filing cabinet. They had almost been caught when he’d spotted the second microscope. They’d tried to turn his mind completely with comiclooks.conn He ~