Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 47 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION 66 OOD-NIGHT, Mary... Good-night, Mr. Smith . . . Good- night, Mr.—er—. Good-night, gnight, g’night, “night .. .” The staff of the electronics department of Messrs. Quillon and Son were filing out, their day’s work done and calling out to Mr. Revilstone, the buyer, in his little “‘cubby- hole,” as they did so. They invariably wished him: ““Good evening, Mr. Revilstone.’’ And he just as invariably called back, “‘Good-night,”’ despite the fact that the emporium did not remain open after six o’clock. “Just a moment, Mr. Din- ton.” Revilstone emerged from behind his desk with a paper clutched in his hand. “I’ve an invoice here for that new electronic recorder from Weissemitche. I. didn’t know they’d delivered it yet. Where is it?” Ted Dinton paused, cursing the buyer under his breath. He was in a hurry to get home to his attractive young wife and an evening meal. “I signed for it, as it happens, Mr. Revilstone. It’s over in that corner by the lift.”’ ‘Where? Oh, I'll find it. You push off.” Dinton left in a hurry, before the other man should think of a reason for keeping him, and Revilstone made his way across the department. The new recorder was, as Dinton had said, by the lift. Revilstone placed it on a table and examined it. It was a beautiful job. He looked it over carefully, noting its points, and wondering in the background of his mind what sort of person would buy it. In spite of his long service with Quillon’s, Revilstone, who had never felt the slight- est desire to hear his own voice played back to him and had never had an ear for music, was always being surprised at the number of people who bought recording instruments. He could understand firms buying them, but private individuals .. . Satisfied that the machine was in perfect condition, he switched off the lights, and made his way to the one re- maining exit that was left open for the staff. The duty man, whose turn it was to. lock up, nodded good-night comicbooks.Conis