Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 66 — page 65: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION “Tired,” croaked the thin man. “Sleep. Mustn’t stop. Keep moving.” “Why?” “Dangerous. Hurts. Vanish.” He sagged again and Sam swore as he half-carried the thin figure towards a pile of reeds. Impatient or not, the thin man was in no condition to answer and Sam knew that if he wanted a quick answer, he would have to find it somewhere else. Leaving Jud on his heap of reeds, he made a quick examination of the great room. Five hundred feet long by a hundred wide, and about the same high. All made of smooth, seamless material, hard and slick like glass. On the floor heaped masses of the strange reeds, thick, bamboo-like, spread in wild confusion. No doors. No water faucets. No sanitation— and fifteen people including himself. Two negroes; two Chinese; four women, mongolian and unattractive; one pygmy; one 64 fakir; two Islanders; one Eskimo; and the two white Caucasians. Fifteen people of varying race and colour, all but a couple of them moving slowly over the floor, all apparently drunk or doped, all staggering and looking in the last stages of ex- haustion. Sam stared at them, won- dering why they were here, then stooped and picked up one of the reeds. The wall of the bamboo-like vegetation was thin and he tore off a piece, finding the interior filled with a pale red pulp. Cautiously, he tasted it, find- ing it tart and refreshing, with a combination taste of crushed pineapple and peach. The pulp seemed to quench his thirst and he stood, eating the pulp, frowning as he stared around. Someone shrieked in agon- ised torment. It was Jud, and Sam ran towards the staggering figure, steadying him as he was about to fall, and trying to force him to sit down. The elderly man comicloooks.com