Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 66 — page 56: what you’re looking at

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

SLEEVE OF CARE and, it doesn’t seem to have moved all day.” Tony stared worriedly at his father. “‘Is it dead ?”’ “TJ don’t think so.” Sam lifted the lid of the aquarium and picking up a slender planting stick from a shelf, prodded gently at the fish. Startled, it moved with a flurry of fins, its mouth opening and closing as if scolding them for disturbing its rest, then settled down to the gravel bottom. “Tt still isn’t moving, Dad, not like the others. Could it be ill?” “We'll see tomorrow, Tony.” “But suppose it’s ill, Dad?” “Then we’ll have to take it out of the tank.” “Suppose it died?” “We'll have to take it out before it affects the other fish.” ~“Shouldn’t we take it out now, Dad? Suppose it died in the night.” “We'll leave it for tonight. If it isn’t moving as it should in the morning we’ll take it out 95 then.” Sam smiled down at his son. “We don’t want it hurting the others, do we?” “No, Dad.” Tony turned and immediately forgot the problem of the sluggish fish. ‘Tell mea story.” “Not tonight, son.” Sam tried not to feel guilt at his refusal, and Madge, sensing his weariness, moved purpose- fully towards their son. “Daddy’s tired tonight, Tony. Some other time.” “Gosh, mum!”’ *“Now, now, Tony! And just look at that time! Bed now.” “Must I?” “Yes. It’s late and you'll be too tired for school to- morrow. Hurry now.” “All right, then.” Silence and the bumping of a small body as it ran up- stairs and donned pyjamas. Then a shining little face and a mop of tousled hair, a small body vibrant with life and freedom from care. Lips raised for a goodnight kiss. “... night, Dad.” “Goodnight, son. Sleep well.”’ connicloooks.com