Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 65 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

MISTAKE ON MARS wouldn’t touch me without plenty of portable cash. I had neither. With money I could get both passport and trans- portation. I found a seat in a so- called restaurant, ordered a cup of coffee which I hoped to talk my way out of paying for, and concentrated on the prob- ' lem at hand. I was still thinking about it when the tout sat down beside me. “Want a hot tip for the races, mister?” I looked at him. He was seedy, small, a beat-up wreck of a man with an alcoholic breath and shifty eyes. He looked a most unsavoury, unpleasant character. I warmed to him as to a brother. **Races ?” “Sure, the big round- Phobos event in five days time.”’ He winked at me. “I’m an old rocket-jockey and I get all the straight news. Fifty credits will buy you the name of the winner.” He was lying, of course, and his pitch was older than time itself. Still, it says much about human nature that he was still ‘In operation. I didn’t waste time on asking the obvious questions, such as, if he 13 knew who the winner would be why didn’t he rob a bank, put the proceeds on his sure- thing, then buy himself out of trouble with the winnings? Instead I winked at him and gave a grin. He stared at me in a hope- less kind of way. “Not interested ?”’ “No. What’s your name?’ “Slim. Slim Murphy. Why 7 ses “No reason.” I stuck out my hand. “I’m Dribble. Dusty Dribble, the best damn sales- man who ever set up a pitch. Maybe you’ve heard of me?” He hadn’t, Mars is a long way from my stamping grounds on Earth, but I didn’t give him much time to think about it. Slim, though he didn’t know it yet, was going to pay for my coffee. He paid for more than that, and, by the time I’d wiped my plate and settled back with a full meal inside of me, we were partners. Partners, that is, in that he was going to provide the essential cash while I provided the brains and selling ability for the one thing all Mars was crying out to obtain. The De-Fumer. Maybe you’ve heard of it? Maybe you’ve actually seen comiclooks.comnn