Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 56 — page 111: what you’re looking at

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

® AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION the entire head, only the brain, and I knew that the experiment had neared com- pletion. It had, too. At first it was wonderful. I still clocked in and out, and drew my wages, but that’s literally all I had to do. Aside from dodging Clarkson, of course, but I’d always had to do that. The rest of the time I hid or hung around the laboratory, staring at the small black box which con- trolled all the machines which ere doing the work I was paid for doing. I had been right about Brutus; he had been very intelligent, though Slats said that it didn’t mat- ter at all. He said that all he had wanted was the brain cells to use as a compact computating unit. He said that, as far as the dog itself was concerned, it had ceased to exist, and that the brain 110 was really nothing more than a mass of relays and neuron paths. He said that it was just like a mammoth radio with no more intelligence or aware- ness of individuality than any other radio set. He said a lot of things—but I didn’t believe them. And why? Three times after the. first week I almost lost my hand in a slamming window. Twice | the furnace door swung open and seared the seat of my pants. Four times I got locked in the building after hours, and once I almost got electro- cuted while taking a bath. So now you know why I’ve quit. As far as I’m concerned the Cybernetics Institute is wholly run and managed by a dog, Brutus. I don’t like Brutus, and Brutus—he don’t like me. Now do you understand? comiclooks.corn