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

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

SLEEVE OF CARE resisted him with surprising strength, flailing his thin arms and lurching over the floor, his eyes closed and his mouth agape. Watching him, Sam knew what was wrong. The man was tired. Dog tired. Almost asleep on his feet. Numbed and dull from sheer lack of sleep, and staring at the others he knew that the same thing affected them all. They were tired, that was all, nothing wrong that a good night’s sleep couldn’t cure. But if they were tired why didn’t they sleep? He was still thinking about it when the lights went out. It was sudden, startling in its abruptness. One moment the wall and roof flared with too-bright brilliance, and the next the room was as dark as the inside of a sealed tomb. With the darkness came a peculiar sound, a sighing, the soft thud of bodies, a snore, and Sam knew that every person in the place but him- self had immediately fallen asleep. He couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t tired, and his brain spun with unanswered questions, and he sat in the darkness, staring into the darkness, feeling it all around him like soft black velvet, like a warm hand, silent, pressing, somehow ominous. And within him the panic began to mount with gibber- ing frenzy. A sealed room. Men and women, all different, with strange food on the floor. A mysterious something which made them move so that they staggered from utter exhaus- 65 tion. Darkness. Mystery. A man who had vanished and who was here. Himself, who had not vanished and who was here also. Vanished! Sam gulped as he stared into the darkness. Jud had disappeared—and now he was here. Could he have dis- appeared also? “Madge!” he groaned. “Tony!” They would never under- stand. To them there was no concloooks.conm