Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 46 — page 107: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION tempted to rise and found that his arms and legs were securely bound. He groaned as he realised that he was in the Psyche Ward on the twenty- fifth floor of the building. A door opened and soft foot- steps approached. He feigned sleep, pressing his eyelids tightly together. “You can’t shut it out like that, Martin,” said a deep, softly accented voice. “‘I hoped I had seen the last of you—it seems I’m not the Psyche I thought I was.” Bridger looked up into the broad, sallow features of Pein- ture. Ugly and bulbous as they were they conveyed a strange expression of understanding tenderness. “Don’t cover up, Doc,”’ he said, tensely. ““What happened this time? What did I do?’ “You don’t remember ?’’ said Peinture, his large mouth tightened at one corner. Brid- ger remembered his father using the same grimace. ““That is good, in a way... At least you're out of it now. You tried to strangle Colson in the canteen.” “Pat?” said Bridger, dis- believingly. “‘Why in hell would I do a thing like that? I like the guy.” ““Why indeed?” said Pein- ture, with a movement of his hands. “‘That is what we have to find out. Feel like helping me ?”’ “Of course,”’ said Bridger. “But how?’ “‘We did rather well with Narco Hypnosis before,” said Peinture. “I'd like to try it again. If we can bring your motivation up to conscious level we should be able to straighten you out.” Somewhere in Bridger’s mind something dark scurried for cover, leaving behind a feeling of resentment. I was supposed to be straightened out before, he thought. Run through incidents, analyse their implications; try to place manhole covers over the sew- ers of the mind and stop them pouring forth the corruption which takes over the conscious will. It had worked fine for a time, until the covers had weakened under the constant pressure. “Anything you say, Doc,” he said, listlessly. He watched disinterestedly as Peinture pressed home the needle of the shiny hypodermic. He felt the numbing effects of the drug flowing through his body with a flicker of pleasure. Bridger sank deeper on the peaceful tide of the drug. 106 comicloooks.comn