Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 72 — page 39: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION narcotics and stimulants. We eat pre-treated rubbish from cans, drug ourselves so that we can stand our environment and, at the same time, try to convince ourselves that we are living the best of possible lives.”’ He snorted. “‘It’s got to the point where neurosis is so common that to be a sane man is to be considered a crank.” “Progress,” said Murbash suddenly. He had fallen asleep during the discussion, nursing the bottle as if it were his best friend. Now he woke with a start, made his comment and swallowed a mouthful of whisky. Susan reached over, took the bottle from him and set it on the desk. “We'll need it for coffee,” she said firmly. ““You’ve had more than your share.” “‘Can’t have too much of a good thing.” Murbash ran his tongue over his lips. ““You said coffee?’ **Men!’’ Susan busied her- self with the percolator. “Just like babies. Feed them, soothe their tempers, let them sleep then feed them again.” She glanced at her watch. “‘Good- ness! It’s getting on for dawn.” 38 “It’s been a long night.” Mark lit one of his remaining cigarettes. “‘An interesting one, though. It’s something to learn that we’re a declining civilization.” “Oh, we’ll last a while yet,” said Miles. “But not as long as most people seem to think. With the general decline in intelligence morons will be normal and less technicians will be produced. We've al- ready come to rely wholly on machines. Once they go, we go. Civilization, at the mo- ment, is like a spinning top. Left to itself it will gradually run down, but should some- thing give it a push——_”’ He made a gesture. “From civilization to abject savagery in three easy generations.” **So soon ?’’ “Of course. Smash the machines now and could you rebuild them? Could you teach your children to smelt metal, start a fire, build a house? The struggle to fill your belly would occupy twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.” “I see what you mean.” Mark stared thoughtfully at comiclooks.conrn