by Earl
Hackworth and his two companions had a room for three, with three beds, three leathern seats, sundry decorative articles, and one mirror. In this mirror, Williams had surveyed himself in amazement. Clean-shaven and scrupulously clean, he did not look at all the wild image reflected in still African pools. His fine straw-yellow hair offset a healthy tan and sturdy features handsomely. Not one in a million would guess his age. He looked like a man in his prime, and he felt that way too. he reflected with secret pride.
Clothing styles had not changed much with men, except that the old tight collar had disappeared entirely, leaving the neck open. The suit that Hackworth had helped him purchase at Kabinda was of a dull red color. M’bopo had been outfitted with a soft green. But he had donned civilized clothing only after his master had threatened to send him back to the Congo otherwise. Hackworth himself had dressed in a suit of sky blue. Williams had become used to seeing colorful clothing, for all the white men at Kabinda had worn them. It was the height of fashion.
M’bopo, about whom both the white men had had misgivings, proved to have an adaptive temperament. His eyes were constantly rolling in wonder at the things he saw for the first time, but his inscrutable features gave hardly a sign. He was as silent as an English butler and not in the least troublesome. For him it was enough that “Orno Akku” (The White Orphan) was near him. He wanted nothing more than simple food and a place to sleep. Since he knew no English and would make no unnecessary sound in their presence, Hackworth came to forget him as though he did not exist.
The transatlantic trip was punctuated only by several meals in the huge public dining cabin, and for the rest of the time they were able to indulge in grateful sleep. The three-week trek through steamy, miasmic jungle had sapped their strength; they felt it now in their extreme lassitude.
It was not an hour after they had left port that Williams turned away from the window to face Hackworth, who was already undressing for bed. He saw worry in his face. Early that morning while yet in Kabinda, Hackworth had received a radiogram. Upon reading it, he had turned pale and contracted his brows fiercely. He had vouchsafed no information about it and hastily stuffed the message away. Williams had wondered, for the look of worry had grown deeper.
Williams rose from his seat and stood over Hackworth.
“Something is bothering you, Earl. . . . that radiogram?”
Hackworth started at mention of the message. His face became suddenly haggard.
“Oh, just something personal, Dan. Won’t concern you directly.”
Their eyes met.
“Wouldn’t it be better if you unburdened yourself?” asked Williams quietly.
Hackworth fumbled with a shoe-lace in hesitation and then motioned to the chairs. They sat down facing each other.
“Dan, as I’ve mentioned before,” began Hackworth, “I have a daughter, a dear sweet girl of twenty, whom you’ve never seen, of course. The radiogram was from her. In it she told me that the thing we’ve most dreaded has finally happened. She has been summoned by the Unidum to leave our home and. . . . and become the wife of a man she has never met and whom she. . . . she doesn’t love, because she loves another.”
“Unidum?. . . . leave home?. . . . Marry a man she has never met?” queried Williams perplexed.
Hackworth shifted his position to look out at the limitless sweep of ocean and sky.
“To make it clear to you, Dan, I’ll have to do a little explaining. We have a new government today in 1973 called the Unidum, a sort of combination democracy and dictatorship, with a capitol in New York City—”
“Sarto je Bru!” burst in Williams amazed, with a Bantu curse. “When did that happen? What has become of our Constitution and Congress and. . . .”
“I’ll go into that some other time,” said Hackworth waving a hand. “For the present, just remember that there is a new regime under the Unidum. This ruling body made a national law ten years ago requiring all women to undergo eugenics-tests before marriage. If the tests show the woman examined to fall into a certain genetical class, she is then conscripted to become the mate of a scientist, for their children will be born with unusual intelligence—will become scientists themselves!”
l A picture of astonishment and anger grew on the listening man’s face. He wanted to shout “inhuman!” but not a word fell from his lips. His tongue loosened suddenly to bring forth a flood of choice Bantu imprecations, causing M’bopo to look at him in surprise.
Hackworth went on like a robot.
“Lila met a certain Terry Spath—a splendid young chemist—a year ago, and they fell in love. Terry came to call often, and in a heart-to-heart talk with Lila, I approved of him and hoped to see them married. They would have been happy, I know.”
Hackworth sighed heavily and continued. “Lila took the unavoidable pre-marriage test just a month ago. She wanted to have it over with and marry young Spath and surprise me on my return from this trip to Africa. You can guess the rest, Dan. There are really few women who prove fit and are conscripted. For that reason we never worried much over it. But it had to happen. . . . . oh, God!”
He broke down and buried his head.
Williams sat astounded and horrified; it was inhuman, ghastly. A young girl torn away from her true love and forced into unhappy marriage! It was medieval. . . . cruel. . . . senseless. . . . but wait!
“When must Lila leave home?” Williams asked rapidly.
“She will be gone when we get there,” answered Hackworth.
“They won’t even let her stay long enough to await your return?” cried Williams incredulously.
“The Unidum is strict. . . . and inexorable.”
“Heartless, I’d say!” added Williams. “But is there any way we can get to her before she is out of our reach entirely?”
“Well, yes.”
Hackworth pulled out the radiogram from his pocket and glanced at it. “She will be at a down-town air terminal for a half-hour after we arrive at New York. If we hurry after docking—But what’s the idea, Dan?” he asked bewildered.
“Just this: If we can catch Lila in time, she will not become an unwilling bride!”
Hackworth, extremely surprised, now looked at his cousin with narrowed eyes. Had the long exile from civilization somehow warped his mind? Did he think some crude method of jungle tactics could save Lila? The man had no realization of existing conditions. He didn’t know the Unidum and the new rule. He smiled to himself; his cousin’s simplicity was touching. Forty years in the jungles with aborigines!
“Impossible!” Hack worth said the one word with finality.
Dan Williams flushed under his tan. He had a vague understanding of the other’s thoughts regarding him. Jungle instinct. It angered him for a moment but saner thought told him he could hardly blame Hack worth under the circumstances.
“Earl,” he said firmly, “regardless of what you might consider impossibilities, your daughter’s future and happiness are at stake. Are you willing to take a gamble for her sake?”
Hackworth looked at him searchngly. No, far from looking simple and misguided, Williams seemed to radiate a quiet assurance. Could this be the same semi-savage man who ruled a tribe of natives in inner Congo? Could this be the same taciturn jungle chieftain who had but a few days previous been terrified at the thought of leaving Africa? Certainly, a great change had come over Dan Williams. Distraught as he was, and curious to know what the man could mean. Hackworth nodded for him to go on.
“I have in my rawhide bundle,” said Williams then, “a vegetable drug—a rather remarkable one. D’Lawoef, the sole survivor of the expedition before ours, had been a physiologist. His purpose in penetrating to that wild region was to procure a fair supply of this drug. During the eight years he lived there before we arrived, he collected quite a supply of the plant which contains the compound in its leaves. He ground it up after drying it into a flake form, always in the hope that some day he would again reach civilization. He didn’t. But before he died, he confided in m
y father and me and turned his supply over to us. In the succeeding years after father had died and I was alone, this supply disappeared, all except one small clay box of it, which I have in my rawhide bundle.” He stopped for breath.
l Hackworth waited silently for him to continue, wondering what all this would lead to.
“The alcoholic extraction of this vegetable,” went on Williams with a note of tenseness creeping into his voice, “has remarkable properties, according to D’Lawoef—and from what I saw of the man, he was no liar or fool. Injected into the veins, it puts a person into a comatose condition for a long period of time, depending on the dose. The subject suffers no harm provided nourishment is given, like that given patients with sleeping sickness, either sugar in the veins, or simple liquid foods forced to the stomach.” Hackworth, who had listened abstractedly, suddenly saw the significance.
“Then you suggest,” he gasped, “that Lila be given the drug and—”
“And her marriage to the scientist forestalled. After that, depending on how events shape themselves, we can plan what to do with that reprieve.”
Hackworth had a wild look of hope and joy on his face, but suddenly it vanished to be replaced by despair.
“But the Unidum!. . . . it will be angry. They will send investigators; suspicion will be directed at us—”
“Are you even afraid to take a gamble?” broke in Williams suddenly scornful. “This Unidum—you talk as if it were a king and you its abject slave! In my time, forty years ago, people were not so meek and cringing to government, especially when it did a wrong thing. And this eugenics business is certainly a wrong thing—or at least tyrannically applied.”
Williams went on, seeing a spark of hurt pride in his cousin’s face from the mention of “king” and “slave.”
“Well, Earl, shall we plan on using the drug, or shall we forget about it and let Lila be married off with a broken heart?”
“No, no! It’s worth the chance!” cried Hackworth, springing to his feet.
“But yet,” he said weakly, sinking to the chair again, “the drug itself might be dangerous to use. What assurance have we, beyond D’Lawoef’s word, that it is not harmful? It might poison Lila, cripple her, derange her mind!”
Williams leaped to his feet and paced the room, cording his muscles in exasperation. For himself he was willing to trust D’Lawoef’s word, having known the man. But Hackworth would naturally be doubtful and apprehensive about letting his daughter be drugged by a substance unknown and untried.
Suddenly Williams whirled, his face alight.
“I have it! Young Terry is a chemist, isn’t he? We’ll put the whole matter before him, let him test the drug if he can in some way, and make the final decision. After all, he is more vitally concerned than either you or I in the outcome. Love and knowledge both will guide him.”
“Good!” cried Hackworth, his face lighting up again with hope. “If Terry approves of the drug, I can have no further objections.”
With a great load off his mind, Hackworth began again to undress.
“Wait,” said Williams before he had his shoes off. “Can we get a message to Terry? Time is precious; there will be little enough of it after we dock. We must have him prepared for this.”
Hackworth looked dubious for a moment.
“Foreign radiograms, like one from this ship to New York, are carefully looked over by Unidum officials. I’m afraid if we made any mention of our plan, or even mentioned Lila’s name, suspicions might start immediate investigation. They would hold the radiogram and then apprehend us on the dock and demand explanations. It wouldn’t be safe, Dan. However, we could send him a message merely asking him to meet us at the dock. That will get us in touch with him so much the quicker.”
“Exactly,” agreed Williams. “Get that message through.”
Hackworth went forward in the hyp-marine and left the message in the radio room after extracting a promise that it be sent without delay, for which he paid a handsome fee. On his return, they went to bed by mutual consent, completely fagged by not only the jungle hardships but also the enervating excitement of their plans and discussions.
Some hours before the hyp-marine was due at the New York docks, they found themselves considerably refreshed and wide-awake. Williams wearied of looking out the window at endless vistas of ocean and, hard though it was to keep up conversation with the ever-present engine drone, asked Hackworth to explain more fully the mysterious Unidum.
“A great war broke out in Europe in 1936,” began the latter, “when all the world was in a slough of stagnation from the Depression. It was called the All-Nations War, and was a series of cataclysmic battles that quickly involved every country in greater or lesser degree. It was the World War over again, but ten times more hideous. Two years later all governments were tottering; Europe was a shambles and a titanic revolution broke out in what had been the United States. Hostilities finally ceased for pure lack of armament, and civilization found itself horribly shattered.
“To me personally, a young and lucky petty officer, it was like a fearsome nightmare. It was simply. . . . hideous!
“Then came the rise of the Unidum. A large group of scientists and men of philosophy, having foreseen the result and banded together in preparation, pushed over the staggering governments, set up its own, and brought reason out of chaos. The Unidum officially came into being in 1943, the central government of all Europe and North America. The rest of the world was left to itself. Asia promptly formed a federation of states under a central ruling power. Africa and South America, under the ex-officio guidance of the Unidum, also formed unit federations. That marked the end of the old-time nationalism.
“The Unidum Capitol is in New York City, the spot from which the collective destiny of a half-billion souls is guided.”
Williams whistled in amazement.
“How is it possible to hold under one rule so many different peoples, each with a different language, many hereditary enemies?”
Hackworth smiled.
“Because, Dan, the Unidum was composed of intellectual giants whose methods were exceedingly clever and enlightened. Several things were immediately undertaken with admirable efficiency. The overloaded populations of Europe were transferred to North America; the English language became standard in all Unitaria, which is the name for our country; and work was divided wisely and with justice.
“And so, Dan,” summarized Hackworth, drawing a long breath, “1973 is vastly different from 1933 politically. It was strange to see how suddenly a feeling of cooperation Sprang up all over Unitaria when one language became standard and when every group of people realized it had the same privileges and rights that any other group had. Dan, it fostered brotherhood! Really, it was simple—there in Europe were a few dozen tiny states, each speaking a different language and each jealous of the other. And yet, all were white people, most of Aryan stock and speaking Aryan root languages. It was only the traditions of centuries that had kept antagonism alive. Once the Unidum stepped in and painted out boundaries and made them responsible to Unitaria as a whole, those old prejudices evaporated like morning dew in the sun.”
Dan had listened, almost incredulous.
“It all sounds nice enough, Earl; I can hardly credit that the Unidum, after doing all that admirable work, should have made a law like the one that affects Lila.”
Hackworth leaned forward and lowered his voice.
“Eve only painted the bright side of it,” he said. “Naturally, this is no millennium or Utopia. There are still miscarriages of government and justice. The scientists, who now have a finger in government, are a bit emotionless and stony-hearted in their zeal for a better world. The Eugenics Law is an example of that.”
They gave up the conversation then, for it strained their throats to talk against the drone of the engines. Williams mused to himself, finding it strange to think that his return to civilization after forty years had precipitated him immediately against law and order—at least one
phase of it.
CHAPTER III
The Drug
l The steady drone of the engines above changed its pitch, and Williams looked out to see a strange new world. The Statue of Liberty was still there but the New York sky-line had become weird and incredibly changed. Not only had the buildings sprouted upward amazingly since 1933, but they had grown together with spider-like spans and vines. It was feverishly unreal. New York might have looked like that through a cheap mirror with fine cracks all over its surface, distorted and impossible. And what were those bees and flies swarming around?. . . .
Williams started at a sharp nudge in his ribs.
“Come out of it, man!” Hackworth was saying.
Before they stepped to the dock depot, M’bopo was given two suitcases and instructed to follow closely. Under his arm, Williams clutched his rawhide bundle tightly. The customs and passports inspection were rapid and efficient in comparison to the same processes in former days. Almost as soon as they stepped into the anteroom, they were released.
“You being a white man,” explained Hackworth, “you are a bona fide citizen of Unitaria the moment you step on land. They will check your passport, and M’bopo’s, at some future time.”
While Williams stared with interest at the colorful crowds passing them, Hackworth led the way to the depot. A tall young man immediately strode up.
“Terry, my boy!” cried Hackworth, almost hugging him. “How are you?”
“Fine. But you—Africa hasn’t treated you so well; you are thinner!”
“There are other things,” muttered Hackworth half to himself. Then he presented Williams and explained M’bopo.
Terry Spath was a tall, well-knit youth of twenty-four, with a splendid muscular development from constant gym-work. He had calm grey eyes that seemed to hide lurking fires. The determined line of his mouth and chin bespoke a sturdy will. Chemical stains were on his hands. He had an air of unstudied nonchalance at all times except when excited. Facially he could only be called ruggedly handsome.