Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 65 — page 85: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION music from the radiogram, she poised pencil over pad _ and began to fire the questions. “First, Mister Valdesco,”’ she smiled, ‘“‘who is your girl friend ?”’ “Valerie McKinnon; she’s a reporter on a woman’s weekly!” Her face flushed slightly. “Seriously, who is she ?”’ *“*Haven’t got one.” “Well, who was she. You must have had one sometime.” ““Never.”’ It was his turn to be embarrassed, and he tried to remember the girls he had known in the past. “I can’t seem to recall ever having a girl. Looking at you, I see what I’ve missed.” She ignored his remark, but there was a smile in her eyes. ‘All right, where were you born?” ““Manchester,” he said prompily. ““My father was an engineer in the AP Station.” “‘What’s your real name?” He looked puzzled. ‘‘Val- desco.”’ “But surely you weren’t born with that name. You must have a surname or something . . ?” He shook his head, trying 84 to remember again. ‘‘No, no I can’t say I have.” She looked at him strangely for a moment. “‘School ?” “Usual. I studied engineer- ing and went into a firm which was starting up in Robotics. They crashed and Mark found me singing in a pub one Saturday night.” ‘So far so good.”’ She read her notes back to herseif. ‘‘Now, how about giving me some general interest on school life and your work in engineer- ing?” He nodded, opening his mouth only to pause suddenly. After a moment he realised he hadn’t any recollections of school life or work. He knew the name of the school, his masters, the managers of the firm, but when it came to actual memories of life in general, there was only a hazy pattern which meant absolutely nothing. He shook his head in bewilderment. “I don’t seem to remember any- — thing.” She glanced up in amaze- ment. “But surely ... 1 mean you must remember some- thing.” He smiled, worried, but comicloooks.comn