Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 48 — page 110: what you’re looking at

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

LAST JOURNEY happily like a fly in a bottle, a tuneless score to the mag- nificent librette unrolling under his pudgy little fingers. And all too soon the hours unfolded, the day ended, and the car whisked him back to the tender ministrations of Servo. Mr. Smith was ashamed to complain to the powers above him. How could one explain rationally that a perfect robot was driv- ing one mad? He lit a cigarette abstractedly and cursed mildly as the flame crept unnoticed along the sliver of wood and burnt his finger. He regarded it with morose satisfaction; at least he was still permitted to burn himself outside his own room! Invariably, since the ad- vent of Servo, Mr. Smith’s day began inauspiciously. Breakfast and dinner were brought up on trays by the hotel staff and turned over to the eager care of Servo. A large glass of orange juice started the day (in itself a proof of his status in a country where fresh fruit was only a fond memory), fol- lowed by two hot, crisp slices of toast, and a cup—one cup —of black coffee. This was a major irritation on each succeeding morning. - Mr. Smith was very fond of coffee. Before the advent of the perfect servant it was Mr. Smith’s custom to drink two large breakfast cups of the steaming brew. Gently he spooned in large helpings of sugar; tenderly he added cream to just the right amount of whiteness. The authorities, however, noticing Henry’s growing state of nerves, had insisted on having him examined by an officious doctor, who declared that he was ruining his digestion with the concoction and had stipu- lated one cup only... and that without cream and/or sugar. The hotel kitchen... and Servo... had been duly appraised of this fact, and Mr. Smith each morning made a wry face as he. sipped the bitter, insipid brew. 109 comicloooks.conn