Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 71 — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

EXPLOITER’S END he said languidly. “How’s Cost?” I told him curtly about Harvey. “Another weak sister,” I rasped. ““Can’t you screen them any more? Didn’t you note his stability index? I’m going to report this to Starza, Don.”’ “Relax,” Darmody smiled. “Those things happen, Jake. We'll do a few gentle things with scalpel and narcosyn- thesis, and hell be back in a week, real eager, the perfect cost analyst.” I'd never liked Carmody. He was so smug; he didn’t realise the sacredness of his position. I said, coldly: “Put Miss Davis on.” Carmody’s grin was know- ing. The screen flickered, and Fern’s face came into focus. Her moist red lips parted, and I shivered, look- ing at her, even on a visicom screen. The shining glory of her hair, those cool green eyes. Three months hadn’t made a difference. “How was little old Earth?” I said awkwardly. a1 “Wonderful!” She was radiant. “Dll see you for lunch.” “To-day’s grievance day. Dinner ?”’ “T promised Don,” she said demurely. I swallowed hard. “How about the Term festival to- morrow night?” “Well, Don sort of asked———” I tried to laugh it off and Fern said she’d see me later and the screen went blank and I sat there shaking. The screen flickered again: Starza’s great moon face smiled at me and said, sweetly: ““We’rereadytostart grieving.” I picked up the time studies that were death sentences for two Terms, and went down the hall to ulcer gulch, the conference room. Lure a termite away from his tribe. Promise him the stars. Make him bust his thorax on an assembly line. He makes a wonderful worker, with reflexes twice as fast as a human’s, but he still isn’t an individual. Even when putting conmiclnooks.conn