Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 53 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION them; leave them alone if you don’t. WAIT! Now don’t rush off and start ticking away like mad things! We’ve survived four years of publication without a poll, so we might as well take our time over this. You see, the usefulness of a poll is fundamentally dependent, not upon figures, but upon the truth of your answers. So sit down and really think about it before you begin to tick. That way you will be less likely to make snap decisions. And remember—the future policy and design of this magazine will vary according to your wishes. It is in your power to help make Authentic nearer to your heart’s desire. That is why, in all honesty and sincerity—apart from the homely friendship between us —you MUST take part in this poll. Dash it all, it only costs three-ha’pence! My thanks go out to you in anticipation. You are going to make my job a lot easier. Now [ll tell you all about our cover. (By the way—Happy New Year!) H.J.C. THIS MONTH’S COVER The Sun is far behind. Earth is something we have to look for carefully with telescopes. Home might be a dream we once had. We can't be sure. All we can be sure of is the cold and the isola- tion and the grandeur. We are on one of Saturn’s moons and the great planet lies, seem- ingly still, in the black sky with its fabulous rings that send back to us sunlight that we know is falling, too, on the rich fields of our native planet. Here there are no fields. Only rock. And ice so hard that it just doesn’t pay to melt it; it needs too much power. No air to breathe so we wear spacesuits and hate the stuffiness of them and the tight, cramping feeling you get after several hours in them. Then we go back to the domes. Under the domes there is air— of a sort. Churned out by machines, smelling of electricity, slightly metallic. But it’s all we've got. That and the sloppy green mass that comes from the hydroponic plants for food. As you eat it for the hundred thousandth time you get a vision of a juicy steak, brown and inviting, with crisp fried onions and blackening tomatoes—and you wonder why you are here. You turn your head and through the plastic dome you see the answer. The unbelievable beauty of Saturn. The overwhelming vastness of the distances you have travelled. The indescribable unity of space and time and thought that you are just begin- ning to understand, and which makes you feel just a little like a god. « Until, after a while, after staring at the magnificence in the sky, your wonder changes. You begin to wonder how people can stay on Earth. Se you turn back to your sludge- pot of green algal mash and realise that life is good, after all. conmmicloookks.comnn