Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 72 — page 33: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION theatre so popular. All the realism and none of the risk.” “T wouldn’t like to bet on it.” Murbash was thoughtful as they filed outside. “A person with a bad heart could succumb to the shock.” “They did, and do,”’ said Mark. “That is why they had to be careful in the old days. The technique of dropping a camera from a roof is an old one; the tri-di screen and other effects only add to the illusion. But you can’t stop progress, and every theatre carries the usual warning. If someone with a bad heart wants to take the risk, then that’s up to them.”’ He paused outside a replica of an old- time saloon. ““This do?’ “If they sell Scotch, any- where will do.’ Murbash led the way inside. There appeared to be a little trouble at one of the tables. A couple of uniformed police stun-gunned a man and carried him out. Susan stared towards the scene and frowned. “I believe I know that man.”’ 32 “The criminal?’’ Mark sat down, snapped his fingers at one of the imitation dance-hall girls and ordered a bottle of Scotch. Susan shook her head. ““Not him, the other one.” She stared even harder. “It’s Miles Whayland. I haven’t seen him for years.’ She smiled at Mark. ““Would you mind? We used to study anthropology together.’’ She was gone before he could object. ; Murbash broke open the bottle, poured two glasses full of the liquid gold, drank, set down his glass and stared after Susan. “*Nice girl.” “Very nice.’ Mark lit a cigarette, wondering if mod- ern sailors followed the tradi- tions of the old seafaring man. ‘You going to get married ?” Murbash smiled as if guessing Mark’s thoughts. “One day, perhaps.” *“‘Make it soon,” advised Murbash. He rolled a little of the Scotch around his tongue. “Now that we’re alone, what’s on your mind?” He smiled at Mark’s expression. “I’m just comcloooks.comn