Avon Fantasy Reader No. 12 — page 125: what you’re looking at

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

“Yes,” Millet said, “there might be one someplace. “Well! Well!” Johnson shouted, “what are we waiting for?” It was evening and a shrill whistle broke the darkness. The rumble from the factory dicd down. The conveyors slowed and stopped and the smoke no longer ascended from the chimney. Long streams of tired men and women walked dully from the fac- tory. Their thin, gaunt bodies moved slowly over the cobbled snowy streets, Their eyes were misty and each one was stooped as if upon his shoulder the weight of the factory was set. The three men entered one of the homes. Wordlessly, the woman of the house set three more chairs by the table and placed three more dishes upon it. They ate with the family in silence, and when night came they went to slecp by the fireplace. In the morning they awoke and followed the family as they dressed and had breakfast. When the whistle of the factory blew the family . slowly filed out into the street where hundreds of other families joined » them’ in the procession towards the factory. Wordlessly, Millet, Weaver and Telrson mingled with the people, constantly atort for an eye that was not dull, for a face that had more than a blank stare. But it was the same with everyone. Dull--blank-—mechanical—living dead —living machines. They gathered in long lines outside the factory, and when the sec- ond whistle blew they marched slowly in. The three men watched them go and when all had entered they followed. But instead of entering the plant itself, they walked into all the smaller rooms, hoping to find some clue to the mystery. On the third floor of the factory, quite by surprise, they found her. The door of a room was slightly ajar. “There's some rooms here,” Millet said, “let’s take a look.” Someone inside must have heard them. The door suddenly closed. Millet walked up to it and tried to open it, but it was locked. “Strange,” he said, “the door was open a moment a 0.” With his shoulder he pushed tentatively. The wood was old and worn. IIe stepped back and crashed into the door. It splintered and fell. Millet and the twe men entered the room. Amazed, they stared at the young girl who stood alone, back to the wall, facing them. Her eyes and face did not bear that dull look which characterized every single person in the city. Each movement of hers was cat-like and nervous as she moved along the wall further away from them. “Hello,” Millet said softly. “A voice!” she said, “You speak!” “Yes, of course we speak,” Millet said, walking a bit towards her. “Don’t be afraid. We won't hurt you.” “You—you're from the Outside!” she said, fearfully. 123 comicbooks.com a