Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 52 — page 104: what you’re looking at

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

A DATE WITH THE PAST *‘Hullo,”’ it said, ““what are you doing ?”’ I pulled myself upright and turned round, startled. I thought I had been com- pletely alone. Not more than a dozen paces away stood a young, fair-haired girl, dressed in sandals, light-coloured slacks and shirt, with a vivid orange scarf tucked round her neck. To my still half-bemused gaze, she seemed quite beau- tiful; not an interruption, but a fulfilment of the afternoon’s enchantment. Girl? There was an unpleasant feeling of maturity about those young- looking eyes, and, without seeing her, I had taken the voice to be a woman’s. “What am I doing?’ I repeated. ““Well, I’m supposed to be fishing. What did you think?’ I looked at her sandals again, and wondered how she had approached so close to me without making a sound. There were still plenty of last year’s twigs about, ready to crackle at the slight- est touch. *“You’re not trying to catch any fish,” she said, reprov- ingly.“I’ve been mostly watch- ing you the last ten minutes, and you have just had your head back, looking at the sky.” 103 “Well, that’s true,’ I ad- mitted, “but why shouldn’t I? It’s a hot day, and I just felt like lying back and——- How did you manage to watch me for ten minutes without my knowing it? How did you © get here, anyway?” She gave a little laugh; she had a high, clear voice— though she slurred her con- sonants curiously—and her laughter was inward and re- mote, as though it didn’t belong to her. She moved closer, and I saw what an incredibly smooth and un- lined complexion she had. I felt uneasy; it made her look as if she had stepped straight off a film screen. “TI just came. Nothing more,”’ she said. ‘““Oh!’’—she whirled about suddenly, rais- ing her hands high in the air— “isn’t the Spring glorious? Mosily never have I known it as this, so fresh and green. What’s your name?” ‘*‘Richard Malleson, but—’”’ “Mine is Barba del Marno. I love name-giving, especially, when you do it simply, like that, and not make it into a ritual.”’ I was bewildered. “‘Make what into a ritual?” ‘““‘Why, name-giving—but of course, you wouldn’t know, comiclooks.com