Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 56 — page 104: what you’re looking at

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

BRUTUS more time for schooling and education. That means that men like you, Murphy, would be able to study and find your proper niche in life instead of wasting your time sweeping floors.” “It sounds good,” I ad- mitted, though I wasn’t too happy about it. “But if there were too many professors and scientists, who would pay them ?” “In a well-integrated economy there could be no such thing as ‘too many.’ Once we lift the burden of manual labour from the shoulders of the masses, then there will be no masses. All men will have equal oppor- tunity for the full development of their natural talents.’’ He coughed. “Of course, not everyone has the scientific bent. Some will become ar- tists, writers, managers, speci- alists in a hundred different fields, but the main thing is that once we don’t have to employ ten men to enable one man to spend his time in constructive thinking, then 103 we can really begin to pro- gress.”” He smiled around the instrument-cluttered lab- oratory. ““That, in effect, is what we are trying to do.” I didn’t answer at once. Slats was a tall, thin, bent- Over man with eyes that peered through glasses as thick as the bottoms of beer bottles and a mouth which, when he wasn’t smiling, looked as though he had just tasted something sour. He was clever though, and if the powers that be had had any sense, they would have made him the Head of the Institute instead of Clark- son, a fat-bellied, bald-headed numskull who acted as though he had been directly appointed by God. I didn’t like Clarkson. The reason I didn’t answer at once was beeause I won- dered if Slats was trying to get at me. He had a habit of expressing his contempt for the visitors who sometimes came around by blinding them with science. I mean that he’d answer questions with a spate of scientific double-talk which left them staggering and numb. comiclooks.com