Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 65 — page 42: what you’re looking at

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

THE RELUCTANT DEATH Mailston considered the proceedings grossly unfair. “But you use machinery. What about that?’ He flung a denouncing finger at the wreckage, which was now like some dead reptile. “Moving parts, idiot. Mov- ing parts! What moving parts will you find in a transter?” “I don’t know!” howled Mailston again. He was be- ginning to feel very miserable. “It was in the city. I fell onto a live rail EF “‘City ? Now I know you’re mad.”’ Hard, black eyes glinted at him. “‘What was the name of the city?’ the young man asked softly. **Sidenni.”’ *“Sidenni? Or do you mean Sydney ?” “It used to be called Sydney,’ conceded Mailston, puzzled. “But that was a long time ago.” “It’s never been called ‘Sidenni’.”” The other’s voice was suddenly harsh. “Il have studied pre-history, and I know. I can trace its history right from the foundation to the evacuation.’ 41 “The evacuation! That’s when it happened to me...” “‘The evacuation,” said the man, with hard disgust, “‘took place two hundred and twenty- Six years ago.” “It took place... the day before yesterday...” The young man took a step forward and grabbed him by the wrist. Terrified, Mailston made no attempt to resist. “Tam Jal, Third Member of Centre Valley Government, and I have a war to fight. I have no more time for your babblings. Understand ?’’ Mailston nodded. “You say you have no transter.”” He gazed around the naked desert with search- ing eyes. “‘Very well; it is but fifteen miles to the nearest oasis. We will walk, and pray to the Seven Gods that it’s still in Centre Valley hands.” Jal jerked him forward, and they walked, like a cowed dog and its master, leaving the typewriter to gather, sand and rust. The battle was not going well. Vielra. crouched in his heavily-armoured command comiclooks.cormn