Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 56 — page 84: what you’re looking at

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

PERSONAL CALL ears, and switched off the communicon. Almost at once there was a sharp rap on his door. No peace. No time to re- adjust oneself to this bleak, cramped atmosphere. His home fell away into the remote distance, and he was Captain Masterman of the Venturer again. *“Come in.”’ Lieutenant Hardy came in with a worried expression on his babyish face. Hardy always looked worried. It would probably turn out to be something to do with the air supply: he was always sus- peciing it of being poisoned, or of getting choked up. “Well, Hardy, what can I do for you?” “It’s the scrubber, sir. It doesn’t work.” Masterman stared, then relaxed. He might have known it would be something fan- tastic. Really, the things this youngster dreamed up... He said: “Of course it works. I’ve just made a call home, and before I went I blotted out one or two thoughts I didn’t want to get through. Perfectly res- pectable thoughts,”’ he added, hastily. ‘“‘Not the sort that some of our colleagues have to blank out.” “‘That’s the trouble,” said Hardy. “After you’d gone, two of the crew made five- minute calls home while the channel was in use. And they came back pfetty sore. They’d gone through the scrubber before leaving, but their wives at once picked up the details of last week’s visit to Cas- sandra City.” “Phew! That’s bad.” “It certainly is.”’ “You haven’t carried out any further experiments?” | “‘Haven’t had time, yet. I thought I’d report to you first.” Masterman pushed himself off the bunk and onto his feet. “‘We’d better go along and see about this.” ) ‘pe angry ratings were still sitting in the communica- tionsroom, telling the operator exactly what they thought about him. The operator was defending himself in language acquired from a wide range of spaceport cafes. They all comicloooks.com