by Earl
“Somehow,” said Williams, “this just seems like 1933 caricatured by a clever artist.” He waved an arm to include everything. “I can still see the old Morningside behind all this. Maybe I merely dreamt when I stepped from the hyp-marine and thought I saw down town and Manhattan Island overgrown with a strange architecture.”
“No,” smiled Hackworth. “Down town has been almost completely rebuilt since 1933, whereas all else of New York stayed pretty much the same. The same has happened in all big cities of Unitaria. Similarly, complete though the change has been in government and state affairs, social life has not changed to a great extent. Here in 1973 the people still play and sing and gossip. There are still theaters, movies, parties, banquets, and idle recreations—perhaps too much of the latter with the short modern working week. In short, man as a social animal has not changed much even though vast political turnovers have taken place. We still have our foibles, pet peeves, petty faults, and idiosyncrasies. To tell the truth, Dan, in a few weeks, after you’ve been around and seen and heard all the new things, you will feel that, after all, 1933 and 1973 are just numbers as far as human nature goes.”
The airport was small to Williams’ eyes; he had seen bigger ones forty years before. But he understood when Hackworth explained that it was only one of hundreds spread all through the residence sections for private craft. It had a ridiculously small landing field, but an impressive hangar.
Then Hack worth’s ship came from the hangar, a fair-sized one with twin motors, into which they stepped. Its front, like all aircraft of 1973, was of flawless glass, allowing perfect vision ahead and to each side. The controls, rear fins and all, were embodied in a driving wheel and foot throttle. Hackworth took altitude with careless experience. At a thousand feet, he tripped a small lever on the dashboard.
To their ears came a faint staccato tapping above the muffled engine buzz. Hackworth swung to one side till the noise became louder and less shrill. Suddenly there was a chorus of new sounds with a regular rhythm. He pulled over the engine lever and began a swift climb. Another series of fluted notes and he leveled out. They were at five thousand feet. Hackworth relaxed a bit.
“You see, Dan,” he explained, “one must fly carefully around New York, or any big city. The air is divided into zones and lanes for different types of craft. Those sounds are lane signals. By means of them, an experienced flyer can fly with his eyes closed. They tell me what lane I’m in, where to turn, where to rise or descend and what speed limit to observe.”
While in the lane, the noises went on regularly and not unpleasantly.
Hackworth pointed to striped ships that they passed at long intervals.
“Air-traffic police.”
The traffic soon became heavy as they approached down-town New York. To one side, a steady stream of small Sansrun craft flowed by. To the other side and a thousand feet up darted larger ships with multiple engines. High above in endless rows were passenger ships bound for, or returning to, distant cities. Hackworth made another ascent when the signals fluted, and leveled at nine thousand feet. From this viewpoint, Williams could see a geometric pattern of air-traffic spread over New York like a fisher’s shimmering net.
They followed a weaving course that circled them past the southern edge of down-town New York. From this height it looked yet more unreal than it had from the ground, Williams reflected. He had a mental picture of 1933 New York in his mind, which he compared with what his eyes saw in 1973. Down-town crawled inward considerably, had become less pointed and spired, and had fallen the victim of a titanic spider which had spun an intricate web between the interstices of buildings.
Hackworth piloted the ship in the Long Island lane.
“The Unidum Capitol,” he said, pointing downward.
(Don’t miss next month’s instalment. The first four chapters are really an introduction to the thrilling adventures to follow.)
ENSLAVED BRAINS
l Now that we have had an introduction into Unitaria, the super-civilization of 1973, we are ready for the astounding adventures that are to follow in rapid succession.
Williams has seen the virtues of Unitaria—and some of its unjust rulings, such as the Eugenics Law which was about to force Lila, the daughter of Williams’ cousin, Hackworth, to enter upon an unhappy marriage.
But the greatest revelation in his life is still to come. He is about to learn something so terrible in its scope, so inhuman that it will change his entire life.
Rarely has such a living picture of the future been written. Rarely has such logic and truth been put into a tale of science-fiction. You will remember this story for years to come as one of the most colorful portrayals of things as they are to be that you have ever read.
PART TWO
WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE:
l Hackworth, an explorer in Africa in 1973, discovers his missing cousin, Williams, who had been lost in the jungle for the past forty years and become a leader of a band of natives. Williams is brought back to civilization and is astounded at the tremendous changes that have taken place. There had been a terrific war shortly after he left America, much greater than the World War, after which a group of scientists seized the governments of America and Europe and set up Unitaria, a scientific organization which brought mankind to greater heights than he had ever before attained.
Hackworth learns that his daughter, who is in love with a young chemist named Terry Spath, is forced by the Unitaria to marry a scientist whom she had never seen before. She had rated so high in the government test that it was thought that her union with one of equal mentality would produce highly intelligent children. Hackworth, Williams, and Terry are horrified at this, never expecting that she would pass the test. Then Williams shows them a solution from an African plant that he had brought back with him. It was a drug that would put any living thing into suspended animation for an indefinite length of time. They would only awaken when commanded to do so by a designated person. This drug is administered to Lila. Hackworth’s daughter, in order to stall off the marriage until something further could be done. The scientists of Unitaria are puzzled at Lila’s peculiar affliction and put her in a hospital. She was told by hypnotic influence, while going under the drug, to awaken only when Terry commanded her to.
The three men tax their mental resources to think up some way of getting Lila away from Unitaria and the Eugenics Law, which would force her into an unhappy marriage. As Part One closes, Williams is being shown around Unitaria and they are approaching the Unidum Capitol in New York City. Now go on with the story.
CHAPTER V
An Enslaved Brain
l Williams gasped in sheer astonishment.
Just on the eastern side of Brooklyn was a large group of magnificent domed buildings of marble and copper, shining in the sun with blinding intensity. They covered roughly five square miles of ground and centered around a majestic structure that looked like a castle of old retouched with the inspired finger of a futuristic artist. It was a hive of activity, aircraft rising and descending, autos creeping like ants, and tiny dots entering and leaving the various buildings.
“This then is the place where the destiny of half a billion souls is centered,” commented Williams with awe. He suddenly realized forcefully just what a gargantuan state Unitaria was—the old United States, Canada, Mexico, then over to the Old World: Britain, Germany, huge Russia. . . . it seemed impossible in scope.
Hackworth began to manoeuver downward when they had passed the Unidum Capitol. He sped the plane forward finally two thousand feet above ground.
Long Island City clustered on the coast half way between the two tips of its namesake island. It had been founded in 1945 along with the simultaneous founding of the Capitol. Being purely a residence city for the tens of thousands of Unidum employees, it had been arranged with an eye for beauty. From the air it gave the impression of a sleepy mid-western town that had grown to a city without changing its rural aspect. Thousands of picturesque, sometimes quaint, bungalows and l
ow apartment hotels dotted the uniform carpet of lush green grass, and endless rows of elms and poplars lent it a quiet, woodland air.
Hackworth landed at one of the many small airports and left the plane in charge of the hangar attendants. A half-mile walk down shady avenues brought them before a dwelling of stucco and peaked gables.
Williams was introduced to the man who answered the doorbell—Andrew Grant, secretary to Executive Ashley of the Unidum. He was a short, slight man of fifty, bald and spectacled. His sonorous voice seemed out of keeping with his physical being.
He greeted the visitors warmly and conducted them to the lounge. Hackworth did not delay long in coming to the point.
“Andrew,” he said, “I’ve never dropped in on you before except to pay a social call, but this time it’s for a purpose.”
Grant lifted bushy eyebrows in instant attention.
“It’s about Lila,” continued Hackworth. “You know, of course, that she has taken the Eugenics Test and found to be of the type needed to be the mother of a Scientist’s children.”
“Oh, I was sorry about that when I heard the news,” said Grant quickly. “Lila is a wonderful girl. And young Terry—I suppose he’s broken-hearted?”
“Naturally. None of us felt any too pleased about the whole thing. In fact—” He paused, then: “Andrew, you will hold anything I say in utmost confidence?”
“Surely. You know me well enough for that.”
“Well, Lila at present is in a condition preventing her marriage to a Scientist, which should have taken place three days ago. While this impasse holds, young Spath, Mr. Williams here, and myself are going to try to save Lila from the Eugenics Law. I have come to you in the hope that you may be able to help.”
Grant had suddenly turned very grave. He hastily looked about the room as though fearing eavesdroppers; it was treason talk.
“Lord!” he breathed. “What do you mean?”
“Isn’t there any possible way to annul or veto the Unidum decree in this matter?” asked Hackworth with a note of pleading in his voice.
There was a pause before Grant answered. His eyes avoided those of his friend.
“Well. . . . Earl, now. Really, it’s unheard of! Annul it, veto it! Unidum decrees are not subject to repeal; you should know that.”
Hackworth threw an “I told you so” glance of helplessness to Williams. He heaved a weary sigh and turned to. Grant.
“I know that, Andrew. But you can’t blame me for trying. . . . after all, it is a father’s heart that prompts me. Suppose your daughter, Elaine, who will soon be eligible for marriage, loved a young man and—”
Grant’s face suddenly paling checked Hackworth.
“I’m sorry,” he ended apologetically.
Grant came to his feet and paced up and down for a minute, obviously wrought-up. Then he whirled.
“You’re right, Earl,” he said tensely. “Elaine will have to take the test herself soon; she has met a young man. . . .
“That Eugenics Law—a thousand curses on it! Deep in my heart I’ve always hated it. And I know you and I are not the only ones. It is one of the worst mistakes the Unidum has ever made. I’d like to help you, Earl, if only because of the thought of my own daughter and her happiness. You say Lila is in a condition preventing marriage. Is she ill?”
Thereupon Hackworth told the whole story of the drug and their plans. Grant showed his extreme surprise and looked at Williams with a new interest.
“Now that I know the whole story,” said Grant, “I’m going to do my level best to help Lila. I’ve got connections in the Unidum that may—and again may not—result in her release. Don’t mistake me. I’m not underestimating the task. As far as I know, no woman has ever been released from the Eugenics Law, but there is a first time to everything. Now give me, say a week’s time in which to do some guarded investigation.”
“If only Lila doesn’t awaken in that time,” muttered Hackworth.
“She won’t, to all indications,” interposed Williams quickly. “I feel almost certain, call it jungle instinct, that only Terry’s voice can bring her back from drugged sleep.”
“I’ll call you by private radiophone,” concluded Grant, “in a week’s time or less.”
Hackworth arose and gripped his hand in silent gratitude.
* * *
The day after their visit to Andrew Grant, Hackworth decided to show his cousin something of the internal workings of a modern city, since he had already seen New York from the outside.
“You know, Dan,” he said before they started, “one of the reasons the standard of living is so high in 1973 is because machines have come to do a great deal of the world’s work. Unitaria especially is a highly mechanized civilization. So much of the work is done by machines that what is left is easily accomplished by a maximum working week of thirty hours for Unitaria’s citizens. And the total production is so great that there is more than enough for the comfort of all. I’ll take you around today to various industries so you can see the machines.”
Using electro-car transportation, they spent a whole day going around to New York’s various industries. Williams lost himself in a dream of wonder. Factories were usually large, clean establishments crammed with a bewildering maze of machines, tended by humans who looked puny and futile beside them. Tireless metallic moving parts twinkled up and down and in and out. They seemed to wink at Williams as though saying; “Isn’t this easy, though?” Finished products spewed forth in steady streams into automatic receivers that carried them away for packing and distribution.
How efficient and quiet it all was! No clanging and banging and ear-splitting discordance as had been the bane of 1933’s ponderous machinery. The engineers had practically eliminated unnecessary noises. A smell of pleasantly perfumed oils and lubricants hovered near the machines. The comfort of the attendants had been thought of to the last degree.
Williams could not help noticing that most of the workers seemed cheerful, did not seem to mind their tasks at all. They were all uniformed and added to the pleasing aspect of the neat machine-rooms.
Hackworth reflected a certain pride as he explained what he knew—pride that 1973 had improved working conditions so greatly over 1933. Not once was there a suggestion of the old-time sweaty, grimy, ill-ventilated, gloomy, screeching machine-rooms of forty years before.
Their final stop was at the food products Branch E, where Terry worked. The Unidum had long ago taken over all food products, since it was such an important thing in the lives of humanity. Branch E produced only one thing: a vitaminized impalpable powder which went into every and all foods consumed in Unitaria.
l Terry, whose working day had just come to an end, joined them and took them through the plant. He brought them first before a series of seven apparatuses different from any Williams had seen all that day. They seemed to be a hybrid between an enlarged clock-work and a chemical laboratory. Pumps drove colored liquids through thick quartz tubes; misted gases swirled violently in transparent chambers; huge rollers ground and ground in flat pans containing heaps of lumped materials.
“These seven machines,” explained Terry, “are the initial steps in the manufacture of the seven vitamins needed in a balanced diet. Into them the raw products are fed through those chutes, which are complicated organic compounds produced at the Unidum’s chemical works. These machines grind it and perform certain reactions that start the building of the intricate vitamin molecules. But they only perform step one. Before the new compounds undergo further chemical reaction, they are tested by analysts.”
They passed to the next room which also housed seven machines, but vastly different from the first seven. These were a conglomerate of millions of tubes, retorts, boiling liquids, and swirling solutions.
“Here the molecules are further rearranged toward the ultimate vitamin molecules. Rigid tests are performed before they pass on. Batches now and then turn out wrong and have to be thrown out or re-worked.”
Each room in turn
had new and strange apparatus. Hundreds of people tended them and took out samples for testing which were sent by a tube system to the laboratories. Yet, strangely enough, reflected Williams, no one seemed to actually have anything to do with the machinery. In the other industries there had always been men before control-boards which gave an accurate resume of the machinery’s operation. Here the machines went on endlessly as though having been once started, there could be no fluctuation in their production.
“These machines are marvellous,” Williams finally remarked. “Are they built so perfectly that no interference with them is necessary?”
“They used to have control-boards,” answered Terry, “just like other machinery. But five years ago this plant was outfitted with a controlling mechanism that replaced human attendance. Only when a part wears out or breaks down, must a human being put his hands in the running of the units.”
“What sort of astounding control mechanism can that be?”
“Come, I’ll show you.”
But Hackworth’s voice made them pause.
“Let’s pass that up,” he said with an oddly hurried voice. “It’s. . . . er—look how late it is. We must get home for dinner.”
“Pshaw!” cried Williams. “Dinner can wait. This sounds too interesting to miss.”
He turned to Terry, about to say “let’s go,” but noticed that he seemed suddenly perturbed. A covert look passed between him and Hackworth, that Williams’ keen eyes caught.
“Perhaps you’d rather. . . . rather go home to dinner,” said Terry, biting his lips as though caught in some embarrassing-misdemeanor.
Williams looked from one to the other.
“Well, what is it?” he asked quietly. “You know better than to fool me, now.”