Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 71 — page 78: what you’re looking at

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

HARVEST from the shining cells, only to face another wall of them. “Put me on Earth,” he pleads. *“Let me go back to Joan...” “Your wife was found fit to be freed.” Smithson’s throat dries. A whirlpool forms in his skull. He swings about, staring at ranks upon ranks of brains. Somewhere, Carruthers. Somewhere, Joan. The two of them, together at last, sharing every thought. Viciousness boils in Smith- son. He lurches forward. Into his mind comes an image of Carruthers and Joan, des- tined to roam like fireflies _through gigantic darkness—— Smithson throws himself at the cells, intent on smashing them, plucking the foul brains from the tubes and ripping, rending, stamping—— Perspective shifts queerly. The. cells disappear. The wall is normal. Light glows around him. Slowly, like a stricken tower, Smithson topples and folds up into himself. He sits with his 77 back against the cool wall and tears trickle down his cheeks. His shoulders heave. He does not see the breaths and flickers that spiral before him. ““They must not be harmed, Smithson.”’ ““And — and — those like me? Those who—aren’t.. .” ‘They will breed on. Evolu- tion will continue. You have been given certain advantages. In the two years during which | you and many others have been unconscious here, being tested, all major traces of your previous mechanical civi- lization have been removed from Earth. Your race has been granted a fresh start. Perhaps it will learn to mould itself instead of its environ- ment. Perhaps, when we re- turn after hundreds of mil- lions of years, we will find that your entire race has achieved immortality and fit- ness.” “Two years!” He clambers up. “I—it—wait...” Words die in his mouth. Solidity is fading. Glare conmiclsooks.com