Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 72 — page 60: what you’re looking at

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

SO LOVELY, SO LOST new man, I’m somebody. Know what I mean?” ““You ever watch the tele- casts ?”’ I said. ‘‘Pap!”” he spat. “Tinsel propaganda, for children and old women.”’ I picked up my glass. His hand slid along the bar, towards his knife. I sipped my wine. The little man’s hand blurred. Steel glinted in the torchlight. Any android’s neural syn- apses are fast, and entertainer types are fastest of all. I plucked that knife out of mid air, and held it thumb and forefinger, two inches from my throat. There was a soft moan of anticipation from the spec- tators. The bartender chuckled. “Very nice,” he said. “Under house — rules he’s: yours. Give it to him in the belly.” The little man’s adam’s apple quivered. ‘“‘No,’” he babbled. “It’s not fair! Did you see how he caught it? He’s an android!” The bartender’s eyes glit- tered. ““Are you?” “Class XQ9,”’ I said. The crowd stirred and mut- 59 tered. Hatred coiled in the air like a live thing. I looked at the twisted faces, the snarls. I threw the knife, point-first, into the bar. It quivered. ““Get out,” the bartender said. I walked out. I wanted to vomit. I was thinking about Paul. I helped Paul move into our apartment next day. He was very cheerful, and Lisa was radiant. After they came back from registration, Paul carried Lisa over the threshold ac- cording to tradition, and winked at me. I went for a walk. That next week I lived in a kind of quiet madness. They were together always, be- tween rehearsals, after the show, bright heads close to- gether, smiling and holding hands. Lisa was very sweet to me, the perfect companion- ate wife. It was all very civilized, very fine. I don’t know when I de- cided to kill Paul. Maybe it was that afternoon after re- hearsal when I heard them talking about me backstage. comiclooks.corn