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

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION thought Smithson. In answer . to Clifford’s unspoken ques- iton, he added: “It was attached to a wheat-mowing machine.” He smiled slightly. His mind wandered back down the years to the gathering of a very different harvest... Darkness, alive and whispering. “Where am I? Where’s Joan? Burroughs!” Only a silence louder than thunder. A wall meets him as he gropes along, a strange wall, neither rough nor smooth, neither cool nor warm to his fingers. “Weak. . . too weak. . .” he sobs softly. Neither a door nor windows. “I’m cold,” he whimpers. Chill hands of air feel his ‘nakedness, and he shivers. “Smithson?” Neither a hu- man voice nor a metal voice. “Yes?” “Soon a light must hurt you.” 70 “Why? Why?” “Show no fear. Many of us are around you.” “Show no fear,”’ he repeats. Something moves behind him. ““Remember that your fear must be thrust aside.” *“O, God, please—let it be a nightmare; make it break up suddenly and I’m in my warm bed and Joan’s by me, laugh- ing and comforting me, and I’m not frightened, but stop it don’t let it go on and Joan and stop it don’t let it go on and on and——” : “Walk, Smithson. You will be guided.” Naked and alone in the blind man’s world, he turns here and there, and pauses suddenly without speaking. He senses the nearness of something by his elbow, and reaches out slowly into the darkness; but his tensed hands pass through nothing, or almost nothing. ‘Why have you halted?” ““I—I’m tired.” “Brief rest is granted.” commiclooolkS.eotin