“Not at all. We give you a list of the unmarried eligibles of your special type number. Any one of these you select will be satisfactory to us.”
“And the old emotion, love, does it not enter into it? You see, I do not know. I am only asking for information; but in one of the old books I have, it speaks of men and women falling in love.”
The scientist looked stern.
“That is the way it used to be. That kind of love produced the feeble-minded, the epileptic, the dullard, and, occasionally, a genius. Under the modern method, the birth and maturity of an abnormal child is not possible. You want your child to be perfect, do you not?”
“Of course! What father would want anything else?”
“Then do not allow yourself to fall in love, as your forefathers did.”
For the next week, Jacob Hubler was an interested participant in the typing of his personality and body. Since he was an inventor, every step of the process was explained to him. At last, all the results were ready for the co-ordination machine. This was the one which produced the final mathematical rating. Buttons were pressed, cogwheels whirred, automatic type clicked, and, at last, a paper came out of the lower slot. The Head of the Bureau took it and studied it very seriously, and finally said;
“Just as I thought, gentlemen; this is a new type, and I believe the one we have been anxiously looking for. It is positively new, and adds a novel group to our known dominant factors. Would you like to look at it, Mr. Hubler?”
The inventor took the white pasteboard and read: TYPE, Q—GROUP, X—DIVISION, 35—***
“You notice that it is a three star card?” remarked the Head. “In the last fifty years, we have had the three star card occur only nine times, and no one has ever had as high a rating as 35.”
“What does it mean?” asked the puzzled Hubler.
“It means that we can be certain that your child will be a philosopher, and at present the country needs one or two philosophers rather badly. Those we have are growing old and are not as inspirational as we should like them to be.”
“Then I can marry and have one child?”
“No. That is the unfortunate part of it. You are a new type, and consequently there are no women of that to introduce you to.”
“Then my right to marry is just a hollow mockery?”
“Yes. You are so strongly dominant that it would be absolutely wrong for you to marry into another type. Still, the matter is not at all hopeless. We are making examinations every day, and we may find your type at any time.”
“How many variations are there?”
“Over seven millions.”
“Then I might as well go back to work.”
“No, go ahead with your month’s vacation. We will make a special study of the female applicants from now on, and we may be able to find one for you. We may even shade the results a trifle and give you a break. Of course, that would be pure experiment and might result disastrously.”
Thirteen days later, Jacob Hubler received orders to report at once to the Marriage Bureau. The Head of the Department was all excited. He said:
“A most unusual thing happened yesterday. We have been testing and typing a very extraordinary woman, and we suspected from the preliminary examinations that something novel would result. Her license to marry was over twenty years old, but she had never been tested. She explained that by saying that the man she wanted to marry did not have a permit, so she decided to wait for him. A month ago, he received his permit, so she decided to be typed. To our surprise, she developed the same type and group you did, the new one. The only difference is that she is a **** person, while you are a *** one. She is the only **** one we have ever had. Four stars show a wonderful mental maturity. The mating should produce the finest kind of a philosopher. We did not tell her about you. Thought it would be best to talk it over with you first. It is most unusual.”
“It certainly is odd,” replied the inventor. “What is her serial number?”
Government Official, Class D, Division 7, No. 4830, Gross Number, 259799987. Her name is Ruth Fanning. Ever hear of her?”
“Slightly.” The inventor smiled. “That woman has been my first assistant for a number of years. I could have told you offhand, without any instrumentation, that she was a four star personality. But I never thought of marrying her.”
“She is in the next room. Suppose you go in and talk matters over with her?”
* * * *
Hubler was far more embarrassed than the woman who was waiting for him.
“This is a great surprise to me, Ruth,” he stammered.
“It is not to me,” was her calm reply. “I had an idea it would be like this.”
“Are you willing to marry me?”
“Certainly! What did you think I had been waiting for all these years? I could not marry you till you had your permit and were typed, could I?”
“But how did you know we were of the same type?”
“Womanly intuition,” was her smiling reply.
They told the head of the bureau that they were willing to marry. After working together, it seemed the proper and natural thing to do. He gave them the proper papers, they received the general treatment, and started life in a two-person apartment.
The Hublers returned to their work. Life was very much the same as it had been, perhaps a little more intimate, more in unison than before, but, in a large way, not much different. They were living in a two-person apartment instead of two one-person apartments, but standardization had reached the point which made all apartments very much the same, irrespective of the number of occupants. They continued to work their hour a day, five days a week, spending the other hours in the pursuit of happiness and culture. After having worked together for twenty-five years, it was hard to put into effect any new or very novel social pattern of behavior.
In the course of time, their child was born in a Government hospital. A serial number was tattooed on his back, and he was transferred to a Government nursery, for the care of the infant was felt to be one of the most important duties of the Commonwealth. What use to produce babies one hundred percent perfect and then have everything spoiled by an untrained mother! Why entrust this most delicate period of existence to the unskilled human mother, when it could be given with perfect confidence to a perfect machine? Thus, for the first two years of the child’s life, it was cared for by machinery which did everything necessary for the welfare of the young citizen, and did it in a perfect and standardized manner.
The Hublers never saw the child. It was believed that much unhappiness was caused by the surplus affection of the mother, so the law provided that in these vital years there be a complete separation of parent and child. However, reports of the growth of the child were sent by mail every month, and at the end of the first and second years, photographs were taken and sent to the Hublers. The proud parents placed these in a baby book. If they fretted over not being permitted to see their child, they did not confess it to each other; they realized the advantage of such a life to their son and were willing to make any sacrifices necessary for the future welfare of the baby.
At two years, the Hubler boy was walking, talking, and able to dress and undress himself. He had an intelligence quotient of three hundred, which meant a mental age of six years. At that time, he was taken out of the nursery kindergarten and placed in the grade school. There, all the teaching was done by machinery, standardized in every respect. Contact between the young pupils and older adults was rare. While there were periods of relaxation and play for the young students, life as a whole was rather serious.
The education was varied according to the predetermined future of the child. If a boy was to become a musician, why give him the preliminary training necessary for the development of a scientist? Thus, each child became a specialist early in life, and many valuable years of existence were saved which had been wasted a century before.
The Hubler boy advanced rapidly. At eight years, he was past the help of machine instructors. From then
on, he received the personal guidance of the few remaining philosophers, for it was early found that his mind was suited for philosophy and not for very much else. At ten, he was a beautiful boy, but such a deep thinker about things which no one else had ever tried to think of before, that he was both a trial and an inspiration to his professors.
At the age of twelve, his maturity was recognized, and it was thought advisable to give him a name, make him a full citizen, and assign him to a government position. The parents were asked to select a name, and naturally, they selected Jacob Hubler. Junior. They were delighted when they were told that he had been made Assistant Professor of Philosophy in the National University, and given full citizenship. A free unit of society, he could now do as he wished with his time, the only restriction being in the hour-a-day, five-days-a-week rule for all government employees. The first thing he decided to do was to visit his parents.
So far, they had not seen him. But they had prepared for the happy event by moving into a three-person apartment. It was very much like their two-person apartment only a little larger and with an extra bedroom.
Jacob and Ruth Hubler could hardly wait for their son’s arrival. They had his baby book out on the table; they wanted to tell him of their marriage, show him the reports and his baby pictures. They wanted him to know what his birth had meant to them and how they had loved him all these years. They did not look a day older than they had looked thirteen years ago, but, somehow, they felt more important and quite advanced in years. Their boy was coming home to them!
Their son! The culmination of nearly a century.
At last, he came—a young man with a beautiful body and a wonderful intelligence. He greeted them without emotion, talked to them without effort. Recognizing them as his parents, he spoke only of the debt the individual owed to the state. He was courteous and polite, but, in some way, he did not seem to be interested in the things they were interested in. Jacob, Senior, spoke of his new household inventions; Ruth told of her part in the work. He, the young philosopher, looked a trifle bored, and talked of Erkenntnistheorie and the undue subjectivity of the temper. At last, he rose from his chair.
“I must go,” he said in a tone of polite apology. “I have an important engagement with a philosopher in China. I must take the next Oriental air machine for Canton. He is an old man, and it is very important that I confer with him before he dies.”
The mother put her hand on his shoulder and whispered timidly:
“Won’t you spend the night with us, Jacob? I made your bed myself, and your room is all ready.”
“I am sorry, but I have made this appointment and must go.”
“Well, come again, and as often as you can,” said the father rather cheerily. “Always glad to see you, my boy.”
Jacob and Ruth went out on the balcony of their apartment. It was on the two hundredth story and overlooked Greater New York. They stood there, and, somehow, his arm stole around her waist, and her head dropped on his shoulder. He touched her cheek as he whispered:
“That is a fine boy. Sure is great to be a father.”
She shivered in his arms.
“I am cold,” she said. “The autumn is past, and there is the chill of winter in the air. If you will pardon me, I will go to bed.”
For a long time, Jacob stood there on the balcony, alone.
Once he was back in the living room, he took from his pocket a Government communication. It was from the Child Permit Department.
“YOUR SON, JACOB HUBLER, JR., HAS FULFILLED IN EVERY WAY THE EXPECTATION OF HIS PRENATAL CHARTS. AS A PHILOSOPHER HE IS A SUCCESS. BUREAU OF STATISTICS ADVISE US THAT THEY NEED SEVERAL MORE PHILOSOPHERS. THIS LETTER IS YOUR OFFICIAL PERMIT TO HAVE ANOTHER SON. REPLY AT ONCE DESIRE OF YOUR WIFE AND SELF CONCERNING THIS.”
He read it over several times. At first it seemed to be hard to understand. He had been so busy improving the standard of kitchen equipment that he had given but little time to other matters. Still holding the letter in his hand, he went over to the central table and opened the baby book. He looked at the first few pictures and then could not see very well because of the film over his eyes.
Closing the book, he went over to the wall wireless and tapped out a letter in reply, addressed to the Child Permit Department. One sentence was the answer, one sentence and the name; and the message read:
“WE WILL NOT HAVE ANY MORE CHILDREN.”
JACOB HUBLER.
He walked as quietly as he could to his wife’s bedroom door.
Her room was dark, and he could hear her sobbing in the darkness.
He went in and touched her hair. Wanting to comfort her, he did not know what to say.
* * * *
The world was no longer all before them.
—Milton
LIFE EVERLASTING
Originally published in Amazing Stories, July-August 1934.
CHAPTER 1
Four Failures Meet
Sally was sweeping the stairs. When she was not doing this, she spent her time making beds, scrubbing pots, and washing windows. Life in the cheap boarding house was just making dirty things clean, as far as Sally was concerned.
From her babyhood, she had suffered from poverty and asthma. These twin afflictions had stunted her body and warped her mind. When she was not conscious of the struggle to breathe, she was keenly aware of the fight to earn the necessities of life. The dual conflict left her no time for the finer things in life. Fortunately, she was only dimly aware of their existence. Days of work with nights of respiratory anguish dulled her soul, till she only had one pleasant anticipation, the pleasure of an early death. At twenty she was aged and worn, an old woman who had never been loved since the day her mother had taken the baby girl in her arms, cried a little, and died.
As she swept the steps, a perfumed youth passed her. Mary Casey she had been called in Shamokin, Pennsylvania; but now, as a jitney dancer in the Moonland Dance Hall, she was called Valencia Moore. Her body was formed of curves, and her mentality was slightly above that of the adenoid moron. Her parents, alternating between love and hate, had procreated her in lust, and raised her in an environment that would have mired the whitest lily. She grew up to be unmoral rather than immoral. Wanting clothes, perfume, and a good time, she commercialized her sex appeal by spending her days in bed and her nights in the arms of anyone who would pay ten cents for a one minute dance.
For six months she had passed Sally, the scrub woman, several times a day without speaking to her. Sally was only conscious of her as one of the pieces of dirt that someday would be swept out of the house. The two girls had nothing in common except that, anatomically, they were both females.
As one girl swept up the steps leaving behind her a cheap perfume, and the other swept down the steps leaving behind her just dust, Harry Wild crab-footed down from the third floor back and passed both of them. He had a hump on his back the size of the regulation football, a right leg that was four inches shorter than the left leg, a twisted face, strabismus, and a clear conscience. For years he had made a good living selling papers and smiling at his patrons. On the street, he had friends from every walk of life. In his room, he read books, fed mice, and dreamed of a day when some woman would love him. For two years he had written daily love letters to Sally, and so far had never had the courage to do anything with them save put them in his trunk. Sally knew him, adored his smile, hated his mice, and kept his bed clean.
The third floor front held the mystery of the house. He was a man with a steady income, and no occupation. John Jones was his New York name. Every two weeks he received a letter with a check. He was clean, bald, and old. He spent a little of his income for food, more for clothes, and the rest in the cheap dance halls of New York. He danced one third of the dances and rested the other two thirds, and never gave a hostess more than one ticket. He hoped that some night he would find the woman he was looking for. Since he was hunting one with the intelligence of Minerva, the body of Venus, and the kindness of the Mother Mary, hi
s quest was doomed to failure. So he danced, and twiddled his thumbs, and wished that his heart muscle and his moral code would allow him to spend ten dollars on one woman instead of ten cents each on many. He had danced with Valencia Moore, but did not know that she lived on the floor above him.
Jones bought his newspapers from Harry Wild, and occasionally danced with Valencia Moore. Wild smiled on the other three, and dreamed of loving Sally. Valencia paid no attention to any one of them; they simply did not enter her plan of life. Sally kept things clean for all of them, and fantasized a life free from dirt and asthma.
Singly they might have been interesting to the sociologist; as a quartette, they made a harmonic failure. From the animal viewpoint, they shared certain biological urges. They slept, ate, and moved, as necessity demanded. Spiritually, there was no contact. Even had Sally known of the letters the newsboy was writing to her, she would have reacted with a confused negativism. That any man should love her was a thought so impossible that it never entered her consciousness.
These four were failures, and all of them through no fault of their own. Heredity, environment, disease, the inhibitions of a false standard of morality, had twisted and warped them mentally, spiritually, and physically, till they were caught in a web of fate from which there was no escape.
The metropolis could have furnished a hundred thousand foursomes as badly assorted, unharmonic failures, as these. In fact, there was no reason why they should have been selected as the experimental basis for a scientific study that was destined to change in every way the life of the human race. There were thirty others living in that boarding house, any four of whom might have served equally well. But the scientist selected these four. His decision was not exactly a haphazard one. He wanted a beautiful woman who was bad; a good woman, sick and soulless; a gentleman whose body was shattered; and an old man who was trying to be young.
The scientist found what he wanted in these four failures.
CHAPTER 2
The Initial Experiment
Harry Ackerman had something, and he was not sure what to do with it. For five years, he had used a serum on the lower mammalia, had checked, rechecked, and double checked his results, and continued to doubt his own observation. No matter what animal he used for his experiment, the results were the same.
The Golden Age of Weird Fiction Megapack, Volume 5 Page 27