Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 53 — page 113: what you’re looking at

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

First winner in our Readers’ Story Competition PARTING 66 INLID! Oh, Tinlid; dl yee are you?” The child’s voice dis- turbed the silence of the sunny, summer afternoon. A little girl emerged from the back door of a large house. She stamped across the yard, her young lips pouting prettily, and stopped at the top of some steps which led down to the basement. She called again, insistently: ““Tinlid, come here at once!” Still no answer. With a look of foreboding that many of her elders would have envied she scurried down the steps and into the base- ment where her robot com- panion was housed. She tried the door. Locked. She began to cry and ham- mer on the metal door with her tiny fists. She made no impression on the door; she merely hurt her knuckles and made herself cry all the more. by PETER E. RIGBY With a sob she turned and scuffled back to the daylight again. She ran, as fast as her six-year-old legs could take her, to the gardener’s cottage. She knew that old Adam should have the key to Tin- lid’s room. “Why have you locked Tinlid in his room?’ she demanded in her shrill little voice. ““Give me the key at once.” “T’m sorry, Miss Pamela,” said old Adam. “‘Your daddy said that there robot is to be destroyed and tooken away fer scrap. He says a robot that old is dangerous; it might go running wild and do some damage. I never did like the danged things; doin’ honest folk out of a livin’. I’m glad your daddy’s got sense enough not to use one of them things in his garden. When J think of one of them tin things clankin’ about in my garden amongst things what folks gotta eat I 112 comicloooks.com