Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 67 — page 116: what you’re looking at

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

THE EARTH NEVER SETS show up at the Mess, either— at least, not at the times I was there. We’d always been pretty close up to _ then; working together a lot of the time and talking after duty hours. He was never a very cheerful companion, but we _had some things in common. Malcolm and Boon were hardly my cup of tea in- tellectually, and Wilson’s con- versation was limited to sub- jects I preferred not to discuss. The fat slob was sitting in the Mess as usual. Not so cocky about his leave, now that he looked like spending part of it in the glasshouse. “What’s happened to Chambers?” I asked. “That rat!” Wilson was chewing greedily on a choco- late bar. ““Him and his bright ideas. He was in here this morning before lunch.” “What did he say?” I asked impatiently. “Did he talk about the Leave Roster again ?”’ Wilson grunted. “He didn’t talk to me about anything. Just walked around looking sorry for himself and mutter- . ing, all hunched up like a whipped dog. Enough to give you the creeps.” He leaned over confidentially. “If you ask me, I think he’s going round the bend.” I began to feel guilty about neglecting Chambers. Some- thing told me that a man in his state of mind should not be left too much alone. I walked along to the door of his quarters and knocked. There was no reply. I tried the door and found it was unlocked. Chambers was not there. I stood looking at the interior of the small room. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with pictures cut from magazines and books. We all had a few pin-ups hanging around in our quarters; men away from home always do that sort of thing—it’s more or less traditional in the © service. But these weren’t the ordinary run of pin-ups. In the main they were not pictures of people at all, just landscapes and everyday scenes taken back on Earth. Pictures of London predomi- nated—that was Chambers’ home town, I remembered. I could imagine him sitting there alone in this room, feeding his great longing on these pictures and at the same time aggravating it beyond endurance. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I turned. Chambers was standing behind me, his eyes staring hotly in a face that 115 comiclooks.conm