Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 51 — page 70: what you’re looking at

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

IT’S DARK OUT THERE “IT could—but what do I aim for? We’re in an auto- matic orbit; we'll circle the moon and arrive back in three days. Let’s stick it out. After all, the universe can’t have ceased to exist. Earth must still be there, even though we don’t see it. Maybe light-waves obey different laws in space.. .” “‘And maybe we’ve ceased to exist so far as Earth is con- cerned.” *“Well, we'll know in three days ...a game of chess would take our minds off this.”” Forman brought out his pocket set. “I’m white,” he said, and moved. “Knight to Bishop three...” TENSION! Neither man had spoken for hours. They sat in their padded seats, each absorbed in his own thoughts, staring through the fore ‘porthole. The chronometer ticked into a taut silence, the strained atmosphere of the cabin, measuring off the last minutes of their three days’ ordeal. 69 Forman watched the dark- ness, a prayer on his lips. If Earth never showed, if Margaret... He had switched on the cameras at the appropriate time and the film recorded the surface of the moon. If it existed. Perhaps the film re- mained blank. The secret was sealed in canisters and they’d never know unless they got back to Earth and a develop- ing tank, Three days of utter dark- ness, shut in with each other, isolated from the universe. Three days of chess, the ten- sion growing, building up to become the enemy between them. Peters said: “We should know any time now.” Forman did not answer. He fastened the straps hope- fully, staring into the dark- ness, looking for the lights of Earth. There was sweat cours- ing down his face, making an irritation about the stubble on his jaw. His eyes were starting from his head, aching with the strain of watching. conmicloooks.com