Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 66 — page 38: what you’re looking at

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

WHEN HE DIED pany he longed for. It was not the same. And I was conscious all the time of the passing days which would terminate his life. That was the worst part of it. To see him again, to talk with him, to share his simple pleasures, to walk with him and be aware of his presence. And all the time know that he was dying as I watched him. To know the exact hour of his death and know that there was nothing in the world I could do about it. Nothing but wait and wait, and to be as cheerful as I could. I was with him when he collapsed. I sat beside him day and night until he died. He was without pain—I saw to that, but he died calling out for his son, and I, sitting beside him, could not tell him that he cried out for that which he had. And so he died, and [ wept at his passing. I buried him and sent the letter with the enclosed money 37 as I knew I should. Almost, I was tempted to wait and see myself, but sense came in time and I did not. There can be no paradoxes in time. If we had met I should have remembered it. We had not, and so must not, but now many things were clear to me as they would be to him when, in sixty-one years’ time, he, too, would sit beside the body of his dead father. So I left the area and hid myself in the heart of the city, there to do what I could with the rest of my life. Sometimes, as I sit in my little room, I wonder if I did right. It is a passing doubt. In sixty years’ time Vendaris will have perfected his serum and all would live for ever. But I am eighty- seven years of age, an old man, and I cannot possibly live another sixty years. I shall die. My return has cost me immortality, as I knew it would, but it doesn’t matter. I had been with my father when he died. comicloooks.com