Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 66 — page 78: what you’re looking at

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

ASTEROIDS *“‘All right,’’ I surrendered. **A thousand, take it and get the hell out of here.” ““You’ve sold it,” he said. “I checked the transfer and I know. I want what you sold it for.” “Impossible!” I felt ill as I thought about it. ““For one thing I haven’t got that much money, and upkeep of this place is expensive and I had debts to pay.’’ I leaned for- ward and set to work to sell myself to a man who didn’t know what humanity was. I sweated, I pleaded, I even wept real tears, but the least he would take was fifteen thousand. He must have been psychic; that was just about the amount I had in the bank. Naturally, I don’t keep all I own in the bank, but what was left in my sock wasn’t anywhere near as much. I had just finished writing out the cheque and was examining his signature of the transfercertificate, back-dated, naturally, when the door opened and a young couple entered the office. At first I didn’t recognise the man, but when he spoke I realised that he was the lucky pur- chaser of the disputed claim. I steeled myself for more trouble. “Mr. Dribble,” he said. 77 “I want to thank you. Yes, sir. You’ve been a real gentleman to me, and I’d like you to know how much I appreciate i. He grabbed my hand and tried to tear my arm off. *“Mavis and me got married yesterday, right after I got back from that claim you sold me.’ He grinned even wider. “‘We’re rich, Mr. Dribble, and we owe it all to you.” I swallowed. ““To me? You mean that the claim was a good one?” ““A bonanza!” He almost glowed as he spoke about it. ‘“‘“At a rough guess I’d say it works out at about ten credits the pound. Thanks again, Mr. Dribble. I'll recommend you to all my friends.” *‘Thanks,”’ I croaked and managed to smile. I lost the smile as soon as they had left - the office. “Ten credits the pound,” whispered Skelton. “That rock was registered at around five hundred tons. Ten million credits! Dusty! I feel ill!” He looked it, too, but not half as bad as I felt. Ten million credits in the palm of my hand, and I’d thrown it away! Asteroids! comicloooks.conn