Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 46 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION no qualms about eavesdrop- ping on them; he’d had to protect himself. That last time, for instance; the thing that had really started all the fuss. He lay in the dark, re- membering . General Stephen Vane stood in the lounge of his chalet that nestled amid myriad others in the Luxury Level—as it was sarcastically termed by those - who did not live there them- selves—which was the lowest of all residential Levels of Deep London. He stood with his back to his wife, staring out of the window at the artificial daylight made by an artificial sun above. Though neither the General nor his wife were aware of the fact, the small hatchway through to the kitchen was very slightly ajar. Even if they had known of this matter they would probably not have worried, since they did not: expect their son to get back from the compulsory Satur- day morning drill for at least another hour. In point of fact their son had come back, having volunteered for an un- popular task connected with sanitation, finished it speedily and been given leave to dis- miss. Patrick Wellington 10 Vane now stood, poised and very silent, in the kitchen. “I’m a soldier,” said Gen- eral Vane, rather gruffly, star- ing out of the window, frown lines clustered on his forehead. “I’m a-soldier and, as you know, I’d always hoped that Patrick would follow along the same lines.’? He turned round abruptly and stared at his wife. ““But I’m pretty cer- tain that you’ve hoped so even more than I have. Isn’t that true?” *‘Perhaps.”’ **Admit it now, Laura.” ““Well.”? The word was not an admission, He made a movement with his hands. ““What I’m trying to say is that while I’ve rea- lised that the boy wouldn’t be the slightest use inside a Mole or, in fact, in any part of the forces, you’ve closed your eyes to it completely. You’ve always wanted a soldier son— and an officer son, at that—and you're. going to do your damnedest to see that you get one.” He sighed and would not look her in the eyes. “I know your mind, Laura,” he said. “I know the way it works. You’ve always held onto a certain set of standards, have- n’t you? Your idea is that breeding and gentility and education and so on auto- connicloooks.comn)