Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 47 — page 122: what you’re looking at

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

THE BRIDGE the radiator. He removed his hat. Mopped his brow. “‘For- getting the petrol. Me! Must be going crazy!” Not too crazy, though, to size up the position. Nothing —human or mechanical—on the road. A few tiny cottages, white diminishing dots beside the road—no help there. Then a remembered rusty pump, just inside a farmyard. Two miles back? Three? He shrugged. Climbed onto the road. Walked to the rear of the car—and kept on walking. He drove on, two hours later. A hard-bargained two gallons splashed in the tank. Enough to reach Llancurrig— a small town jewelling a mountain breast. “And on arrival,’ he promised himself, “a fill-up. You bet!” He’ surged towards the mountain wall, darkened by the crouched, flickering thunder-beast. His gaze shiv- ered to a brighter perspective. Sun-drenched plateau. Glad stream—clear, swift, spark- ling. He hummed a joyous tune. A hump-backed bridge 121 ran towards him. Up, over, down again, with a lift and — twist of his stomach. He fell silent, thinking of his dream. It was, mercifully, brief. Driving, he faced the bridge: which was a symbol for— what? An envied goal? Bar- rier to desire? Unconsumma- ted ambition? And eerie sunlight on shiny black iron- work. That quality—eeriness! What of it? Why eerie ? The fall towards tortured waters. Set- back? Defeat? Disaster? The end of life itself? No answer—yet. His ex- istence was ordered. Accepted. Without forward-striving. Yet the dream had meaning. Cari- catured, deep-laid, subcon- scious realities. But censor- distortion falsified everything. Sly, subtle, jumbling, herring- trail-laying censor. If he could lay a finger on its working—— He passed a signpost. Two miles to Llancurrig. He would be there, on the mountain’s lower slopes, by two-thirty. “The Fashionable’ (Mr. P. Grubbiner, Proprietor), the leading millinery establish-— ment, was his target. If he didn’t get the biggest order yet—— connichooks.conn ' ° ? ‘ : ” Ls nh ~ Roi | » -& Tey ty PS ee) eee es wr? a a