Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 65 — page 60: what you’re looking at

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

HEART ACHE by HELEN M. URBAN OU’RE SELDOM AWARE OF Y sravity, but occasionally you see it killing some- one, right before your eyes, and then it doesn’t matter if that killing is dramatic and swift, or slow and relentless and subtle—the monstrous grasping force of the living planet pulling into itself the essence of its own, the living motes that have sprung up from its fertility—of that you are fully aware. It is almost as if Earth needs to earlier claim those who have defied her jealous dominance over life that she seems to deal so ruthlessly with the Mars-born. You know how they look; so old and wrinkled in such a very short while after coming home, and though Earth is not really home to them, it seems _ likeit. Emotional home. Racial home. Earth is too big and the gravity is too heavy for their Mars-bred muscles. People born and reared on Mars develop those capacious lungs, but their large leg and arm muscles never develop like. they do on Earth, so they walk in a slightly tipped over, hunched up, drag-footed man- ner, and you have to feel sorry for them. Particularly when you see one daily, as I do the woman next door. Crouching in a patch of shade, all hunkered down and gathered in on herself, croon- ing a sort of rising, falling, monotonous sub-sound of eternal pain, the woman next door seeks in her indrawnness an oblivion to this Earth that is her ancestral home, but not her world. Cut off from the lightness of Mars and the cold, clear, red plains where the winds are slender breezes and the dark blue sky is a twinkle of daytime stars that suddenly deepens in tone at the quick comiclooks.corn