Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 53 — page 31: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION tioned to the guards. “Get rid of them.” Tiger protested once more. “But Maitis is innocent. He’s harmless.” ‘“*Harmless, eh?’’ She waved a hand at the Arena, which now lay empty. Then she smiled again, directly at Mat- tis. ““So he’s harmless? Well, all right, let him prove it.” “Yes?” “Let him,” and the smile deepened, “‘let him spend the night at the Palace. With me. And take the other one to the gas chambers.” There was no malice in the Dianotrix. She was playful, but not-malicious. The will-o’- the-wisp light in Mattis’s eyes flickered dangerously, yet he restrained himself. The other, the giant, however, hearing that he was to die, sprang forward with grappling hands. The bullets of the submachine guns ricochetted off the shatter-proof glass. Said the Dianotrix as the guards were lugging out the fur-clad body: “I always won- dered whether the first genera- 30 tion were men or beasts.’ And she smiled encouragingly at Tiger and Mattis, who stood silent in the hands of the guards. “Don’t worry, you'll get your chance to prove it. Take them away to the Palace now and put them under guard. And you, Teamster Alcott, come with me.” She looked quite surprised when I bowed with strained formality and said: “I beg to be excused, Your Highness. I have to see a man... about a bitch.” That was the end of my tale. So far. And the girl to whom I had been telling it— what was her name? Ah, yes, Celeste—and Celeste sighed profoundly. I had forgotten entirely she was present, that I sat in her rooms, as the old story and its sequel unrolled itself again in my mind. Memory is a bitter, tricky thing to play with. I did not feel quite at ease having un- wrapped these best-forgotten emotions before some chance- met woman. | comicloooks.com