Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 51 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

THE ENVIED the ordinary everyday world and pretend that nothing had happened. And he sensed the misery and loneliness of the girl who stood beside him. He said: “‘ Where are you < 33 going now? ““ Home, I suppose.” *“Come and have a drink. There’s a kafamat over the road.” TAREE latie: bet Her uncertainty was easily overcome. She wanted to talk to someone, just as he did. They could talk at one another, not taking much trouble to listen : an audience, responsive or otherwise, was all that mattered. ) They sat at a small table in the window, with the bulk of the hospital overshadow- ing them. Warren slipped coins in the slots, and in a few seconds the delivery trap opened and they took out their warm drinks. To Warren .there was no taste in the liquid. He watched the girl sipping at hers, and knew that she, too, 23 was unaware of flavour or warmth or sweetness. He said abruptly: “Tm Warren Caldicott.” “Tm Deborah Quentin.” He nodded, registering the name and no more; and then the echoes came to life, and he looked across the table at her. “Not Professor Quentin’s daughter?” She nodded, and gulped. The tears came back into her eyes. “T see,’ said Warren slowly. Then he added: “ His death is a great blow to all of us. He was one of the best scientists we have ever had. - He was the only one who could win respect from the Greys. Now that he’s gone 4 “He’s glad to be gone!” Deborah burst out. “ All he ever thought of was life in his laboratory. He was a good father to me—in his own way he was affectionate—but he never really cared for any- thing but research. He wanted to die. He wanted his Alaric comicloooks.com