Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 72 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

THE GIVE-AWAY WORLDS on a column of air and scowled down at the buildings spread below. They were tall and rectangular, neat and clean in their glass and con- crete beauty. Between them the threads of streets ran in long, straight lines or swung in gentle curves. It was a pleasant sight to anyone who - liked order and efficiency. Frank hated it. . He leaned against the guide- rail of the coleopter, his weight sending the little machine sliding down an invisible slope towards the terrace of a building. The parking space, as usual, was full, and his scowl deepened as he tilted the machine towards a clear, red-painted area. Cutting the power, he dropped, the opposed fans slowing and the jar-legs ab- sorbing the shock of impact. Switching off the engine, he swung open the guide-rail and jumped from the plat- form. A man stared at him as he walked from the coleopter, seemed about to say some- thing, then changed his mind. He was late. Frank knew it, even before the robot time-clock swallowed his card 11 for dispatch to Personnel. The foreman halted him at the entrance to the assembly room. “You're late, Durward.” “So I’m late. So what?” “So you’d better watch’ yourself.’ The foreman breathed hard. “This is the second time this month. You want to get fired?” “[’m not crying.” Frank stared past the foreman to where the assembly belt moved down the length of the vast chamber. Men clustered about it, those coming on-shift relieving those going off. ‘Do I start work or don’t I?” “Go ahead.”’ The foreman was reluctant to get a man into trouble. “But take a tip from me, Durward, get rid of that chip on your shoulder.” Frank shrugged and went to his place. The advice was good, he knew it, but knew, too, that it was easier said than done. He was a man whose body craved action, whose mind needed to be active, but the work he had to do provided scope for neither. Before him a wide belt carried a series of incomplete comiclooks.corn