Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 66 — page 131: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION sweetest music he had ever heard. It seemed to come from the remains of the build- ing at the other side of the Street, the building which had taken the brunt of the sphere’s impact. Nature study had never been one of Sam’s favourite hobbies, but he recognised the cheep of a sparrow. Or was it only the result of Lena’s insistence, he won- dered. Was it auto-suggestion Or imagination? There was only one way to find out. He crossed the brick-strewn street and clambered up the remains of the ruined building. If he could see the sparrow, then he would believe it existed. The belly of the sphere had completely crushed the building at the point of contact and mounds of brick and rubble were heaped round the dull metal flanks. It was one of these mounds which Sam climbed. He slipped and fell quite often. It was difficult to find a firm footing when he couldn’t tell what was part of a wall still standing and what 130 was upflung debris. With time, persistenceand muchswearing, he finally got to the top—and immediately saw a mistake he had made; almost as much of the sphere’s bulk projected over the other side of the battered building as there was to be seen in the street. From the mangled steel furniture that littered the top of the mound, Sam judged that he stood on what had been a block of offices. He hoped there had been nobody work- ing late the previous night, as he edged his way round the sphere. At the rear of the globe— which he hadn’t been able to see from the street—he found two metal bars which curved from where he stood, up and over the surface of the sphere. He didn’t need more than one try to guess that here was a ladder leading up to a port- hole. But it was a_ ladder without rungs—unless two crossbars, set about five feet apart, counted as rungs. He put his feet on the lower crossbar and wondered if he comiclbooks.corn