Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 54 — page 119: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION work with our type of equipment.” “You have already told me that it will.’ Harding stared coldly at the computor man. “‘What is your real objection to making the transfer?’ “Common humanity,” stormed Carter. “Only a beast Or a madman would even think of it.” “Stop it, Carter!’ Long- strom stepped in front of the raging psychologist. ““My ob- jection is a simple one, sir. If we try the transfer and it doesn’t work, what do we do then?” “A good point. Make the transfer then, and retain our own equipment until the Head has proved its worth.’ He rose and stepped towards the door. “I want no failures, no excuses, and I want the job done as soon as possible. Do it!” The Head giggled at his departing back. It took a full day to make the transfer, and another three to test the responses and re- flexes of the captured unit. Then, despite Longstrom’s protests, Harding ordered all the original computor equip- ment cast into space. “It’s a mistake,” said Long- strom to Carter one watch 118 period. “It’s too much like putting all your eggs in one basket. I’m worried.” He was, too, though not for the apparent reason he gave the psychologist. He was in the position of a computor man without any computors to operate, and he had the sick conviction that, logically, he would be the one ordered to take care of the Head. “I’m worried, too,” said Carter. “I know what’s be- hind ail this. Harding wants to prove something, and if he does, can you guess at what will happen next?” “‘He’ll get a medal—if they don’t shoot him for breaking Regs.” “They won’t do that; he was right when he said that it was results which count. No, ’'m worried that he will prove himself right, that the Head is better than our own com- putors.”’ “Ht isy’ “Are you certain of that?’’ “Yes.”? Longstrom glanced uneasily towards the flesh and metal abortion. The thing was asleep—at least its eyes were closed, though it was doubt- ful whether it could sleep at all, and it was certain that it didn’t have to rid its bedy of toxins. “The enemy have proved that too often to allow comiclbooks.corn