Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 53 — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION somebody on the other end a bad headache.” Then I had a hunch, an intuition of death. “Tiger! We've got to get back to the city at once, to the Arena.” I picked up the recording of Menilissa, a small standard 6 disc, and stuck it in my pocket. We turned around and headed back, leaving the open grill swinging behind us. We were not disguised. Tiger in his insul-alls looked like any other mechanic and I was still wearing the uniform which designated me as a high official at court. The urgency of the situation made it no effort to be just as over- bearing as any New Man, as any ordinary fight fan. The New Men were avid fans. They went to the Arena, of which there was one in every large city, not only because of their Roman love of cruelty, but also to rid themselves vicariously of their barbaric impulses. That, at any rate, was my theory, that the fights provided the cathar- 24 sis for the emotional in- stability of the New Men. It was also a convenient way to get rid of such indi- viduals as would not conform to the set standards of society. And it made no difference whether they were Old Men, or first, or second generation New Men. The fight manager at the Arena seemed properly im- pressed by our bearing. “But,” he shrugged, “‘the games were arranged by Her Highness personally, and it would mean my neck if I made any substitutions.” Even a carefully tendered bribe of five hundred valt could not change his mind. We were not even able to,see the participants, which were kept under close guard. Her Highness’ orders. . “But, I beg your pardon, Sir, aren’t you Teamster Alcott?” **Ves.”’ “In that case Her Highness has left special instructions to conduct you and your com- comcloooks.com