Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 47 — page 88: what you’re looking at

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

When life is a game of chess, Robots may be pawns or queens—or both! ROBOTS’ GAMBIT HE TALL young man and the robot walked side by side down the path from the factory. The young man worked there; the robot had been manufactured there. The young man saw his fiancée waiting for him at the curb in her convertible. “Hi, Carol,”’ he called. “Hello, Mike.”’ Caro] Mer- cer was twenty-four, her hair the colour of autumn leaves and her voice crisp and bright. “‘Who’s your friend?” “He’s for Dad,” said Mike Hobbs. “‘Birthday present for the old gentleman. Got room for three in the front?” The robot stopped, with Mike, at the curb. He stood there expressionless, his eyes looking at Carol, his slim by RICHARD WILSON fr me dressed neatly in a tiue serge suit. The face was that of a man of sixty, and it had a thick white moustache which matched the shock of hair on his hatless head. “You bought that?” asked Carol, incredulous. “You bought a robot for your father?” Her eyes flashed angrily. “Are you out of your mind ?” “But I got him wholesale,” said the young man. “I had to get him for Dad after your father bought Mr. Morphy. . If there’s one thing Dad likes to do it’s to keep up with the Mercers.”’ “The whole thing is ridi- culous,”’ snapped Carol. She tossed an auburn mass over her shoulder. “Just because comicbooks.com Ss ee g Pe are a - ys is Lege Ye ees Pee eee + - , ee eee ae Oe! a ae