Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 46 — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION he heard it, it made no im- pression on his conscious mind. -It hadn’t been imagination. He hadn’t imagined that pain and that fright. Besides, he had been thinking with Harry’s mind. But how could that be? How could anyone think with someone else’s mind ? He thought frantically, des- perately, for a parallel. And found one. The games. The games Harry and he had played, when they’d discovered that they very often thought of the same things at the same time. They’d never told any- one else that they could do it. Other people wouldn’t under- stand. This was something special and secret. One- of ~them would think of some- thing—anything—and the other would try to get inside his thoughts to find out what it was he'd been thinking about. It hadn’t always worked, of course, but most times they’d been able to get pretty near. And this last business about the tunnel had been something similar. Not exactly the same, but similar. This time it hadn’t been just thoughts, but feel- ings, instead, that he’d got from Harry. And he’d left Harry back in the tunnel, because Harry’s mother didn’t 26 worry and ease like his own mother did. TNE 26 or something? Standing there like a ninny with your mouth open when I tell you to go upstairs to your room! Do as I tell you this minute!’ Her voice was harsh, intruding jaggedly into the pattern of his thoughts. “‘Harry,” he said, in a voice that was a whisper, a groan, a sigh, all in one. ““There’s been a cave-in. The tunnel. Harry’s trapped.” “What ras He turned round and started for the kitchen, shouting over his shoulder: “I’m going to get the police and tell Harry’s mother!” The kitchen door banged to after him before Mrs. Vane had recovered sufficiently to let out her breath. “‘Well,”’ she said, furious and bewildered. “Well.” On the kitchen stove the kettle, with insistent whistling, told all who cared to hear that it was boiling. Patrick Vane, in the lift going upwards and upwards, nodded slightly to himself as he remembered. The rest of what had happened was not so clear in his mind as that first part, but it was clear enough. He hadn’t told the police or comiclbooks.conn