Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 67 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION drink it. Rock juice is made from anything which happens to be available at the time and, if you’re very lucky, you might even get some surgical spirit in it. Personally, I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that I was drinking cut-down rocket fuel. It didn’t matter. I was half-way through the ‘bottle when the stranger reached over and touched me on the arm. *‘Alcohol,” he said mildly, “is a depressant. All it does is to accentuate your present emotion.” “So what?’ I tipped the bottle and did more damage to my vocal chords. “Join me?” “No.” He looked at me. **You’re Jim Blake. I’m Harry Fendyke. I’ve heard all about you.” ‘All about me?” I stared at him and he stared back. He was that rare thing in the Belt—an old man who really was old. There are plenty of the other kind, young men who look old, but you don’t often see the genuine article. Like me, he was dressed in heavy coveralls, the pockets zippered and the material worn and faded with dirt and time. He wore magna- boots and a radiocap, but had left off his contact belt. At first glance he looked exactly like any of a thousand pros- pectors to be found within half an astronomical unit of where we were sitting. “You made a strike,” he said. “You thought you’d struck it rich, then you found you hadn’t. Now you're feel- ing sorry for yourself and want to run away.” He touched the bottle. “If you feel like that about it, why don’t you get yourself a couple of pipes ?”’ “Opium costs more than liquor,” I said. “Anyway, I .don’t go for that stuff.” “Why not? Alcohol, opium, neococaine, reefers, tingle- tubes, what’s the difference? They all offer the same thing.” ““{ don’t think so.” I tasted the rock juice again, then pushed away the bottle. Some- conmicloooks.conn