"Okay, okay, okay," I said, slinking with flushed visage behind my stencils. "But from now on Futuria Fantasia will be ten cents straight an issue. Ten cents straight." "Agreed," snapped Gorgono, "if you are neater. But you must be new, neotiric, different." Then I flashed them the newly processed cover done by Bok. "Gods!" bellowed Gorgono. "That is stupendous! A fine beginning, mortal, a very fine beginning!" Slith agreed by pounding vigorously on the table with his scaly rump. "And wait until you read Monroe's yarn," I jubilantly exclaimed. "It's not science-fiction, but it's certainly a fine bit of story." "Yes," said Gorgono, "this issue looks much better. Glad to see you've added two new authors, Damon Knight and Joe Kelleam from Astounding. I'll have to remind the fans to send in their dimes for this issue and perhaps support you a little more than they have with letters. But we'll see about that." He got up, stretched, yawned, and vanished in a belching ball of flame. "Yes," said Slith, "we'll see!" And he too vanished with a sharp pop. All was quiet. I went back to my stencils and my opium. THE EDITOR. HEIL! by _LYLE MONROE_ "How dare you make such a suggestion!" The state physician doggedly stuck by his position. "I would not make it, sire, it your life were not at stake. There is no other surgeon in the Fatherland who can transplant a pituitary gland but Doctor Lans." "You will operate!" The medico shook his head. "You would die, Leader. My skill is not adequate. And unless the operation takes place at once, you will _certainly_ die." The Leader stormed about the apartment. He seemed about to give way to one of the girlish bursts of anger that even the inner state clique feared so much. Surprisingly he capitulated. "Bring him here!" he ordered. DOCTOR LANS FACED THE LEADER with inherent dignity, a dignity and presence that three years of "protective custody" had been unable to shake. The pallor and gauntness of the concentration camp lay upon him, but his race was used to oppression. "I see," he said. "Yes, I see ... I can perform that operation. What are your terms?" "Terms?" The Leader was aghast. "Terms, you filthy swine? You are being given a chance to redeem in part the sins of your race!" The surgeon raised his brows. "Do you not think I _know_ that you would not have sent for me had there been any other course available to you? Obviously, my services have become valuable." "You'll do as you are told! You and your kind are lucky to be alive." "Nevertheless I shall not operate without my fee." "I said you were lucky to be alive--" The tone was an open threat. Lans spread his hands. "Well--I am an old man...." The Leader smiled. "True. But I am informed that you have a--a family...."