Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 53 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

WITHOUT LOVE that suggestion about the gorilla, I felt very disgusted with myself for pandering to the Dianotrix’s whims. I felt in need of some spiritual antiseptic to get the bad taste out of my mind. Leaving the Palace I took a copter to the Gayne suburb, hoping there to pick up private transport to the Team- ster cemetery at Rosemont. I wanted to be near Menilissa, near the place where I hoped to lie some day, where Tiger would wish to -be buried if he could be found. The New Men, for various and specific reasons, preferred vast sub- zero storage chambers near the Poles. When I got to Gayne, however, I found nobody to take me out. It happened to be snowing at Rosemont, though not at Gayne, where, on account of its being popu- lated, the weather was care- fully controlled. So I walked about the shops at Gayne, watching the clouds in the west over Rosemont and 21 thinking of Menilissa. There were a number of workers about, and one of them, in the saddle of an electric tri-cart, looked vaguely familiar. I could only see his back and he was dressed in heavy insul- alls, but ... “Tiger!” I shouted. Tiger it proved to be. Older, the mighty shoulders slightly bowed, grey hairs among the short black ones, but still the same Tiger with the light of battle in his eyes. I was truly glad to see him. He turned slowly on his saddle and said: “‘Hello, Mr. New Man.” I stopped. “Tiger? What’s the matter? I’m Alcott.” _ “Yeah, I know you.’ His scornful glance took me in from head to toe. I was wearing the dress of the palace officials, a sort of uniform. “‘And this is what I think of you.” He spat. I guessed what was wrong and knew he’d have to get it out of his system before I could talk to him. connicloooks.comn