Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 65 — page 67: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION lowed showed a pale, be- spectacled youth sitting alone and sighing emptily. Then he took Doctor Rottenhammer’s Nerve Pills. Instantly, the scene changed—the young man threw away his spectacles and assumed a heroic sun-tan. His muscles bulged, and the gleam that appeared in his eyes was positively lecherous. He ended up chasing a harem of under-dressed beauties through multi-coloured bed- rooms to the accompaniment of erotic music. *““You too can achieve as much if you take—DOCTOR ROTTENHAMMER’S NERVE PILLS!” Ward didn’t feel so bad now. The whisky bottle was three quarters empty. It was time he called on Burke’s sister—the thought sobered him quickly. As he moved to the door, a woman with a bright red mouth and a _ mechanical smile accosted him. “Lonely, spaceman?’” she enquired. Ward edged round her; she smelt like a perfume factory. “T’ve got testimonials ——”’ 66 Ward ducked through the curtain and ran. It was always the same, he thought; that part of his leave never changed. Space- men earned big money. He turned off the brightly- lit strip and sought the back streets. Here, at least, it was possible to see the stars, dimmed though they were by a halo of neon signs. He longed for the solitude of space; out there, a man could think for himself—he didn’t have a thousand commercials crowding in on his privacy. The cool darkness of the back streets held hidden dan- ger. From a doorway, three youths leapt upon him. Fists encased in metal gloves bat- tered him. ‘‘Bash the swine!” roared a hate-filled voice. ““Spaceman!” Ward swung the holdall containing Burke’s effects to shield his face. He staggered back against the wall. Eager hands tore at him, ripping his jacket; sudden pain throbbed in his head and he tasted blood. The mailed fists kept coming at him... For the first time, he re- gretted drinking so much comiclooks.conm