Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 71 — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION fought it. I’d seen strong men driven insane by a thought- caster within seconds. My stability index was six point three. Damned high. I fought it. I got to my feet. The room reeled. Those damned Term faces. The shining an- tenne. I stumbled towards the door. The thought be- came a whiplash of molten fury. “Uphold that grievance, Jake' Tell them the truth. Admit the standard was im- possible to meet———”’ I slammed the door. The voice stopped. My skull was a shattered flywheel, a sunburst of agony. I was retching. I stumbled down the corridor to Psych. Fern was there. I was scream- ing at her. The Guild was here. They had thoughtcasters. _ My brain was melting. Fern was white-faced. She had a hypo. I didn’t feel it. The last thing I saw was the glimmer of tears in her green eyes. “. .. the neuron flow.” Starza’s voice. ‘““No two alike. a4 Like fingerprints. What a pity they can’t refine the transmittal waves.” I tried to open my eyes. ‘The Guild atomized Solar’s plant on Proycon,” Carmody’s voice said quietly. “It’s just a question of time, Dave.” “No,” Starza said thought- fully. ““Proycon was a sweat- shop. I think maybe they’re hinting that our production standards are a trifle rough. Look, his eyelids fluttered. Bet you he takes refuge in amnesia.” “You lose.”” My voice was an iron groan. We were in Starza’s office. Carmody peered at me with a clinical eye. “I took the liberty of narcosynthesis while you were out, Jake. You told us all about it. How do you feel?” : I told them how I felt, in spades. “T want my vacation now,” I said. “I’ve accrued seven months. I’m going to Venus,” I said. . ‘“‘Now, now,” Starza said. ‘““Mustn’t desert the sinking COMIC OOXS.COhn =