Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 71 — page 59: what you’re looking at

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

I caught. By mid afternoon we had the conveyor speeds down = thirty per cent. The red line on my cost chart soared precariously. The entire pro- - duction line slowed to a crawl. We waited. At five o’clock it happened. Three Terms in the body shop went mad. It started a chain reaction throughout the trim line. Six more Terms ran amuck and had to be des- troyed. Final assembly became a shambles. Starza called me on the visicom, delighted. “Our Guild agent played right into our hands, Jake. In forcing a production slump he’s harming the workers. His next move will probably be a bluff.” I wasn’t so sure. That evening the executive dining room was choked with a tight, gnawing tension. Department heads spoke in hushed whispers, eyes darting. The man across the table could be a mindless-controlled, a Guild pawn. Smile at him politely and keep your mouth AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION 58 shut. I ordered thar, a Termi- norb arthapod that was usually more delicious than Venusian lobster, but tonight it tasted like broiled leather. It was like eating in a morgue. I saw Carmody, at the next table. I nodded coolly to him and he hitched his chair over and said: “By the way, Jake, I’m sorry about Harvey. He’s going back to Earth next week.” , “Why?” “His stability index was too low,’ Carmody said smoothly. “Sure, we could have given him the works, but you didn’t want a robot.” I said, deliberately: “IT needed that boy, Don.” Carmody got up, his smile infinitely contemptuous. “We don’t all have your stability index, Jake.” I stared after him, and the thought suddenly struck me that not once had J considered quitting, ever. Somehow, the thought disturbed me. Abruptly the public address speaker boomed. ‘Attention,’ Starza’s voice Comicbooks:.com=