Authentic Science Fiction Monthly No. 72 — page 71: what you’re looking at

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

AUTHENTIC SCIENCE FICTION in that one beryllium steel and plastic jungle, they will have a greater chance to prey on each other and reduce their own numbers. Anybody who can pay his way—but I had dropped out of that category a couple of weeks before, and the barman at the New London Grill knew it. He let me have a couple of glasses of the stuff that passes for scotch on Fourth, but when I asked for another he made it clear that I had overstayed both my welcome and my credit. He was a mean-looking little weasel with a bald head, and eyes that moved too quick and too often. Two drinks were not enough to pull me up out of the hole of depres- sion my last bender had dug for me. My reflexes were in such bad shape that when I reached out to grab his greasy white jacket, I missed. He didn’t intend to give me a second chance. The next minute, his hand appeared from underneath the counter holding something black and wicked looking. He swung at my head with it. My shoulders hunched in preparation for 70 the blow, my eyes closed. I knew I was going to be beaten, but my mind was so snarled up within itself that physically I was incapable of doing anything about it in such a short time. The blow never arrived. ‘All right, Fred. There’s no need for that. Pll take care of this gentleman’s account.”’ I opened my eyes. The speaker was a tall man with crinkly, blond hair and a dependable, open-featured face. His body was built on a heroic scale, big, but with the tautness of youth. He held the wrist of the barman in one of his large hands and unzipped his tunic pocket with the other, producing a thick roll of notes. “There, that should take care of it.”” He peeled off a couple of twenties and flipped them onto the counter. ““Now, get Captain Molson his drink, and Ill have the same.” He released the barman’s arm and turned towards me. He had the sort of smile you don’t often see from a grown man; all white teeth, blue eyes and unquestionably sincere. comicbooks.conl