Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 72 — page 36: what you’re looking at

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

THE GIVE-AWAY WORLDS burped. “I’ve worked it all out,” he continued. “Used one of the computors to extrapolate the trends and come up with the answer. Finish.” He blinked seriously at the others. The university was on the edge of town, a small place catering for the diminishing few who still evinced an interest in history, reading and higher learning. A jump- cab dropped them at a side gate and they stood, shivering a little in the cold night air, as Miles fumbled with keys. He opened the door just as rain began to patter down from the heavens. Mark glanced at his wrist watch. “Five minutes late,” he said. ““The weather boys are getting careless.” ““Come inside,” said Susan sharply. She didn’t want her dress to get wet. “Got any coffee, Miles?’ “T’ve got some Scotch.” Murbash lifted the bottle. Of them all, he was the most affected by what they had drunk, probably because he was the only one who hadn’t taken the precaution of swal- lowing some sobup pills. In fact, he had refused, saying that a drunk wasn’t a drunk without a hangover. Mark suspected that the captain didn’t know what a real hangover was; that, or his constitution was so hardened to alcohol that he didn’t suffer as normal men did. His respect for Murbash was increasing all the time. Miles led the way to a cluttered office, switched on a percolator, found cups, a tin of cream and a box of sugar. He thrust them towards Susan, swept some papers from a chair and sat down. ““Were you serious about what you said, Mark?’ “Sure.”? Mark produced cigarettes, handed them around, lit them and blew smoke towards the glow-light. “I may be old fashioned, but the prospect of the collapse of civilization depresses me. I want to see your proof.” ““Me, too.” Murbash hefted his bottle and looked im- patiently towards Susan. *““How much longer for the coffee?” comiclooks.com