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diff --git a/old/30305-h.zip b/old/30305-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..02d8a6a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/30305-h.zip diff --git a/old/30305-h/30305-h.htm b/old/30305-h/30305-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..41aed16 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/30305-h/30305-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1567 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of DP, by Arthur Dekker Savage + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2,.bk1 {text-align: center;} + h2 {margin-bottom: 2em;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 2em auto; visibility: hidden;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .rgt {text-align: right;} + .figc {margin: 1em auto; width: 600px;} + img {border: none;} + a:link,a:visited {text-decoration: none;} + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; margin-right: .05em; padding-top: .05em; font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em; width: auto;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + .figt {float: left; clear: left; margin: 15px; padding: 0; width: 142px;} + .trn {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; min-height: 230px;} + .trn p {margin: 15px;} + .sp1 {font-size: 250%;} + .bk1 {margin: 2em auto; width: 30em; line-height: 1.5;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of DP, by Arthur Dekker Savage + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: DP + +Author: Arthur Dekker Savage + +Illustrator: Paul Orban + +Release Date: October 21, 2009 [EBook #30305] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DP *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p class="rgt"><i>Illustrated by Paul Orban</i></p> + +<h1><span class="sp1">DP</span></h1> + +<div class="bk1"><i><big>Once upon a time life was perfection. Government made sure +its citizens were supplied with every comfort and +pleasure. But sometimes perfection breeds boredom and ...</big></i></div> + +<h2><small>BY ARTHUR DEKKER SAVAGE</small></h2> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Allen Kinderwood</span> slowed +his pace so his forelock would +quit bobbing. The damn thing +wasn't supposed to bob; it was +supposed to be a sort of peaked +crest above rugged, handsome features—a +dark lock brushed carelessly +aside by a man who had +more important things to do than +fuss with personal grooming. But +no matter how carefully he combed +it and applied lusto-set, it always +bobbed if he walked too fast.</p> + +<p>But then, why should it matter +now? He wasn't looking for a +woman tonight. Not when his appointment +with the Social Adjustment +counsellors was tomorrow +morning, and he would get a Departure +Permit. <i>Should</i> get one, +he corrected himself. But he had +never heard of a petition for a +DP being refused.</p> + +<p>He wanted to spend his last +night in the city over here in the +main park of C Sector, walking in +the restless crowds, trying to settle +his thoughts. He moved through +slow aimless eddies of brightly appareled +citizens, avoiding other +pedestrians, skaters and the heavy, +four-wheeled autoscooters. Everything +was dully, uncompromisingly +the same as in his own sector, +even to the size and spacing of the +huge, spreading trees. He had +hoped, without conviction, that +there might be some tiny, refreshing +difference—anything but the +mind-sapping sameness that had +driven him to the petition.</p> + +<div class="figc"><img src="images/001.png" width="600" height="505" alt="" title="" /></div> + +<p>Allen was careful not to brush +against any girl with an escort. +Since he wasn't on the make, what +would be the use of fighting? Kind +of an odd feeling, though, to know +you'd never date or fight again, +or ... Or what? What else was +there to do, if you hadn't the luck +to be a jobman or a tech? You ate, +and slept, and preened, and exercised, +and found what pleasure +you could, and fought mostly because +it was momentarily stimulating, +and, eventually, after a hundred +and fifty years or so, you died.</p> + +<p>Unless you were a tech. If you +were a tech, Government gave you +stuff to keep you alive longer. A +jobman got a somewhat different +deal—he got nothing to keep him +alive abnormally, because ninety +percent of Earth's population was +waiting for his job anyway.</p> + +<p>Allen skirted a huge fountain +throwing colored, scintillant spray +high into the dark summer sky, +stealing a glance backward over his +shoulder. That girl was still behind +him. Following him? It wouldn't +be anything new, in his case—especially +in his own sector—but +maybe she just happened to be +going his way.</p> + +<p>It would be easy to find out. He +circled the fountain twice. With +her looks she should have been +picked up before she'd left her +compartment building block—except +that whoever got her might +have to fight more than once during +the evening to hold her. Definitely +a young man's darling.</p> + +<p>And, the way it began to look, +definitely Allen's darling. On the +second trip around, she had backtracked +to meet him face to face—her +purpose obvious.</p> + +<p>He tried to dodge, but there was +no way it could be done without +insult. Damn....</p> + +<p>"Hi, brute. Nedda Marsh. +Alone?" She ran soft hands along +the hard biceps under his short +jacket sleeves. The motion threw +open her shriekingly bright orange +cloak, displaying saucy breasts, +creamy abdomen and, beneath her +brief jeweled skirt, long smooth +thighs. And the perfume assailed +his nostrils with almost physical +force.</p> + +<p>"Hi, Nedda. Allen Kinderwood. +Alone, natch." Natch, hell. But +what could any male do to combat +Government perfume? He smiled, +his pulse suddenly quickening. +"Date, darling?" She <i>was</i> a beautiful +thing.</p> + +<p>Her large, sparkling eyes showed +pleasure. "Take me, Al." She +touched vivid red lips lightly +against his. And the formula was +complete. Private citizens Allen +Kinderwood and Nedda Marsh +were dated at least until dawn—or +a better man did them part.</p> + +<p>He squeezed her arm where +she'd snuggled it against his side, +starting with her away from the +fountain. "How come the most +gorgeous thing in Kansas City +wasn't dated earlier?"</p> + +<p>She looked up at him, and the +passion in her gaze made his heart +skip like a teener's. "Could be I'm +very particular, darling, but," her +look was suddenly beseeching, "the +truth is, I'm protected."</p> + +<p>A slow, tiny fire of distaste +fanned itself alive in Allen's brain. +Why in the name of World Government +did every other girl who +made first play with him have to +be protected? But there was his +out. By unwritten social code +he could declare the date off. Except +that he had grown to increasingly +hate the spiteful practice of +'protection'. It meant Nedda had +peeved some local lothario who, +along with other males in his +clique, was going to damn well see +she wasn't intimate with anyone +else until she begged another date +with the original one. If you had +a sadistic turn of mind, it meant +you could keep a delectable bit in +freeze until her natural inclinations +forced her into your arms. But +you'd have to fight any man who +tried to date her in the meantime.</p> + +<p>Fighting was legal, of course, as +long as the loser was surgically repairable, +and it was considered a +normal catharsis for strained relationships +between males.</p> + +<p>Not, Allen thought glumly, that +he had any stake in the future of +frantically weary society, but he +had reached the conclusion long +ago that a man without the courage +to back up his personal convictions +wasn't worth the energy it +took to down him.</p> + +<p>He stopped and held Nedda +against him protectively. "I still +want the date, sprite," he said. "I +have to leave early tomorrow, but +I'll try to get you out of protection—okay?"</p> + +<p>Her lips trembled. "Oh, yes. If +you knew how it's been, these +last few days—"</p> + +<p>He shook her again, but more +tenderly. "Deal. We'll try to reach +your compartment." Living quarters +were a sanctuary no one but +a medic could legally enter without +invitation. He removed his stainless +identification plaque and +slipped its chain about her throat. +"If you see any of the guys who're +watching for you, tell me but don't +look at them." He took her arm +again and alertly began to work +through the throng. "Describe your +protector."</p> + +<p>"Jeff Neal-Hayne. He's big, Al. +Bigger than you. Heavier, but +you've got muscles like he never +saw. You look faster, too."</p> + +<p>Allen didn't know him, but the +name was revealing. Not that anything +but your Earth society number +was official, but use of a double +surname meant your father had +elected to stay with your mother +for at least a while after you were +born. Most babies, of course, were +immediately turned over to a Government +creche, but it had always +seemed to Allen that kids raised by +one or more parents had other advantages +too, although he had +never been able to figure out just +what they were. Maybe it was only +his imagination.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">At the</span> edge of the park they +chose the nearest double +scooter which showed full battery +charge.</p> + +<p>Allen leaned against the forward +rail. "Herd it, will you, Nedda? +Every time I think of the +hundreds of hours I've spent plowing +air with one of these gut-weighted +things I want to break +one. Hell, I can run faster. Anyway, +you know where we're going."</p> + +<p>The girl smiled, pushed the +power lever into forward range and +steered into slow-moving traffic. "I +saw a man lift a single, once, but +that's all he was able to do with +it."</p> + +<p>The lighted street seemed intensely +bright after the dimmer +reaches of the park. "Ever think +of running one into the river?"</p> + +<p>She looked at him in amazement. +"Fright, no. Why—you'd +have to drive along a pedestrian +path for at least a block to reach +the bank!" Nedda spun the steering +wheel to avoid a long string of +solemn teeners playing follow the +leader on singles. "You have funny +thoughts, Al."</p> + +<p>"I'm laughing." He flexed his +muscles, impatient, as usual, with +another citizen's sluggish mentation. +"I suppose the damn music +never gets on your nerves, either?"</p> + +<p>"Music? Oh—the music." She +listened as though for the first time +to the muted strains which played +continuously throughout the city—calming, +soothing, lulling. "Of +course not. Why should it?"</p> + +<p>"They've got it synchronized," +said Allen. "Government's got it +synchronized so you hear it just +the same volume no matter where +you are outside. You <i>have</i> to listen +to it."</p> + +<p>"Darling, your boredom's showing."</p> + +<p>He squeezed her hand reassuringly. +"Don't let me spin you, lovely. +I've got the answer."</p> + +<p>"Oh?"</p> + +<p>"Yeah. I applied for a DP this +morning."</p> + +<p>"Al—<i>no</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Why not?" He put it like the +needle thrust of a fighting knife, +daring her to find a reason, half +hoping she could.</p> + +<p>"I—" She glanced at him once, +quickly, then away. Then she drew +a deep breath and let it sigh out. +"How about Mars, Al? There +aren't many service machines, and +they even let women do lots of little +detailed things. I almost went, +once."</p> + +<p>He was watching her shrewdly. +"Why didn't you?" He had fought +this one out with himself before.</p> + +<p>"Oh—I don't know. Just never +did."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you why you really +didn't. It'd be too different. When +the Government provides every +convenience, every comfort you can +think of here, you can't stand having +to work in a mine, with an +oxygen helmet, stuffed into heavy +clothes. You can't stand the danger +and the fear—and somehow, inside, +you must know it. I'm pretty +strong, and I never met a man I +was afraid of, but I know I +couldn't stand Mars." He gripped +the rail and stared out over the +wide, swarming street. "But Earth +is a trap, Nedda. A big comfortable +trap where you walk around +endlessly without being any use at +all."</p> + +<p>She trod the brake and barely +missed bumping a couple who had +stopped to embrace. "<i>I'm</i> some use, +hon. Wait'll we get home." Her +eyes held a promise she could +barely restrain.</p> + +<p>Automatically, he caressed her +with a practiced hand—and +grabbed the wheel when she suddenly +strained against him, trembling, +pressing eager lips against +his neck.</p> + +<p>Christ, how long had she been +protected? He felt a mounting +anger against the social ennui which +drove men's minds to such inhuman +activity. Departure was the only +escape from this kind of thing, and +from the city—from any city.</p> + +<p>But the Departees had always +been only a tiny minority. Did that +mean they—and he—were wrong? +He brooded about it for seemingly +the googolth time, guiding the +scooter without conscious thought, +turning as Nedda directed.</p> + +<p>A trap, he'd told her. Well, he +could see no reason to change that. +The blazingly glorious sensotheaters, +cafes, gymnasiums, dancing +salons, amusement rides and +hypnodream houses, crowding every +main thoroughfare with their fantastically +ornate architecture, were—when +you thought about it—designed +to trap people's minds, keep +them from thinking of anything but +a gossamer, useless pursuit of personal +pleasure. And wasn't the design +faulty when everyone was +bored, when some chose Departure +and others sank to the unnatural +practice of protection to whet their +sated appetites?</p> + +<p>Nor was there any apparent hope +for the future. Theatre productions, +dream tapes, even the elaborate +home teleview shows were all historical. +Why? Was Government admitting +there was nothing but staleness +in the present? Why the concern +with backtime?</p> + +<p>Because of Government entertainment +diet, Allen could probably, +with a bit of practice, fish +skillfully from an outrigger, make +and use a longbow expertly, run a +store profitably in the Money Ages, +weave cloth correctly, build complete +wooden houses—oh, any number +of ancient things.</p> + +<p>But he couldn't even talk the +same language as the relative handful +of trained men who built and +operated the unbelievably intricate +robomachinery which activated and +maintained the complex cities of +Earth.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Nedda's</span> soft voice broke into +his thoughts. "Al—Dan Halgersen's +coming up behind us on a +single. He's one of Jeff's—"</p> + +<p>"Hold on." Allen swung the +scooter hard right and adroitly +darted across traffic toward an emblazoned +theatre entrance. Here, +now, was a situation he knew how +to deal with. He said rapidly, out +of the side of his mouth, "Jump +off when I stop at the entry and kiss +me like good-by. Register your +plaque in the ID slot and head for +the door—then look back. If I'm +down, go on in and lose yourself. If +he's down, come back."</p> + +<p>He made a wrenching stop at +the very edge of the crowd, swung +Nedda through the opening between +front and side rails and gave +her a hard, sterile kiss.</p> + +<p>She clung to him a moment. +Without letting her eyes stray she +said, "Slowing down right behind +you. Luck, lover." Then she turned +and started to pick her way across +the walk.</p> + +<p>Allen swung the scooter in a fast, +tight circle to the left. Assuming his +opponent to be right-handed, this +would help avoid a knife slash from +the rear if the other rammed his +scooter—further assuming the man +had <i>not</i> been tricked into thinking +his presence was unnoticed.</p> + +<p>He hadn't. When Allen whipped +his head around to look at him, +there was barely time to brake the +heavier double to avoid a shrewdly +planned collision. Halgersen, Nedda +had said. He was thick-set, with +heavy brows and large jaw. The +type Allen had learned to associate +with power and endurance +but not too much speed.</p> + +<p>Halgersen was holding a knife +in his right hand. Allen quickly +slipped his own blade from the +sheath conveniently held at the +front of his belt. They cut intricate +patterns of feint, attack and withdraw, +using passing vehicles as +buffers. But not for long.</p> + +<p>A voice from the crowd called, +"Fight!" and space grew miraculously +about the combatants, leaving +a huge clearing in the street +rimmed solidly with scooters and +pedestrians. A few shouts of encouragement +began to be heard as +individuals selected one or the other +of the men as a likely winner.</p> + +<p>Allen dodged a sudden attempt +at a side-swipe collision and the +attendant vicious swipe of Halgersen's +blade—and then drew first +blood by a lightning riposte to the +arm. Legal knife target was arm, +leg, abdomen and a forehead cut +without thrust—which would obscure +vision with blood without doing +organic damage.</p> + +<p>The bright yellow luminescence +of a police copter dropped and +hovered as Allen tried to follow up +his momentary advantage. The +scene, he knew, would now be +simultaneously filmed for possible +legal record and broadcast on all +teleview news programs. Entertainment +for adults, education for +the teeners.</p> + +<p>A feminine voice in the front +ranks called, "Two stunts to one +on green jacket!" and was immediately +taken up by another girl near +by.</p> + +<p>He had little time to think with +satisfaction that no female had ever +been forced to pay off a bet of some +ingeniously embarrassing public behavior +on his account. Halgersen +was now trying to maneuver him for +a straight ram which would bring +them definitely together. He wasn't +being weakened by the slow drip of +blood from his arm and he didn't +seem to be bothered by pain.</p> + +<p>And then they were close to the +circle rim. Allen swung his scooter +so the cooling downdraft from the +copter—coming from above the +center of the cleared area—was directly +against his back, a method +he had devised for knowing his position +without having to take his +eyes from a close opponent. He let +his shoulders droop suddenly, as +though he was tired, and at the +murmur of disappointment from +many onlookers he began to back +slowly away from Halgersen.</p> + +<p>The blue-jacketed figure rolled +into the trap scowling. He tried +again for a head-on ram. Allen let +him come, and at the last possible +instant, when Halgersen would be +unable to reverse, stop, or even +swerve, he flipped the bar to full +power ahead. And braced himself +accordingly.</p> + +<p>The scooters met with a bone-jarring +thud of perimeter rubber. +Halgersen was hurled neatly over +his own guard rail to land gaspingly +across Allen's.</p> + +<p>Allen grasped the back of the +other's belt in a grip that had dismayed +many a combatant, hauled +him into position and hamstrung +both legs with two dextrous thrust-and-cut +movements. It took but a +moment longer to leap above a +desperate slash at his own legs, +drag the heavier man to the thick +floor of the scooter and render him +unconscious with a stamping kick +of one sandaled heel. It left an +easy repair job for the medics, but +would keep one Dan Halgersen +from fighting again for more than +a week—and maybe make him +think twice about joining in another +protection pact.</p> + +<p>Allen leaped up and balanced on +two guard rails while the police +copter settled down to pick up +Halgersen. He signaled Nedda to +move on along the walkway.</p> + +<p>While the onlookers were clapping +approval of the show, he removed +Halgersen's plaque, leaped +down and dodged an attempted +kiss from the girl who had given +odds on him—glancing back warily +in case her escort felt insulted—then +pushed through the mob to +join Nedda.</p> + +<p>She hugged his arm ecstatically. +"Darling, every woman should have +a guy like you."</p> + +<p>"Yeah." He felt no sense of triumph. +It had happened too many +times before. Everything had happened +too many times before—repetitive, +palling and purposeless. +He tucked the won plaque into her +decorative belt. It was Nedda's +proof that protection was ended, +and Halgersen would have to call +for it accompanied by a witness.</p> + +<p>"Where the hell is your place?" +he asked. For a moment he wondered +why he didn't just turn +abruptly and leave her, social mores +notwithstanding. Then Nedda's +perfume began its chemical magic +again, and he carefully straightened +his jacket and set his forelock in +its proper place.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">"Nedda,</span>" he accused lazily, +"you're a nymph. Ever tried +psychoconditioning?"</p> + +<p>She gave him a tender, lingering +kiss and burrowed more comfortably +in his arms. "Not yet, +darling. Would you prefer me less—responsive?"</p> + +<p>Allen patted her as carefully as +possible to show approval without +arousing her again. "No man +would. But it must be rough between +dates, isn't it?" And just why +should he be worrying about anyone +else at this stage of the game? +Maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was +just curious now that it no longer +mattered.</p> + +<p>She avoided his eyes in the cool +semigloom of the compartment. "I—usually +manage to have enough +dates. Until some moron like Neal-Hayne +puts me under protection."</p> + +<p>He disengaged himself gently, +rolled off the pliant couch and increased +the room's light with the +wall knob. "You should register a +complaint, Nedda. After three he'll +be forcibly psyched, you know." He +dialed the servoconsole and focused +a morning meal menu on the viewscreen. +"Ready for breakfast, pip?"</p> + +<p>"Mmm—if you are." Nedda +came over and lifted the phone +from its panel recess. "That number +six algal protein is supposed +to be a new taste sensation. Like?"</p> + +<p>He shrugged. "Let's try it. It'll +be my last go at this robot feed."</p> + +<p>When the meals had been deposited +in the service chute she +looked at him pleadingly. "Hon, +why don't <i>you</i> try being psyched? +They could make you satisfied with—things +as they are."</p> + +<p>Allen lifted a thin transparent +food cover while he shook his head. +"Maybe they could, Nedda. But it +would have to be almost total erasure +to change my slant on everything, +and being forced to accept +what I hate is worse than anything +else I can think of. It wouldn't be +me when they got through. Whatever +causes me to think like I do is +the <i>me</i>, and that'd be gone."</p> + +<p>Some of the resentful animosity +surged up in him and he had to +talk about it. "Look at your compartment. +The same as every other +single in the city—or any city. The +walls are the shade of green that's +best for the eyes. Furniture and fixtures +are always the same colors. +Every compartment has a servoconsole +to condition the air, control +the temperature and humidity, +bring you food or any other standard +service, provide teleview +shows, music or requests. You +could live your life inside this +square hole. Everybody has everything +and nothing means anything—can't +you see that?"</p> + +<p>She came around the table and +sat on his lap with her head against +his neck. "No, presh, but if you'll +change your mind about a DP you +can date me any time, always. I'd +like to share a double with you forever."</p> + +<p>He traced soothing circles on +her smooth back with his fingertips. +"That's the closest I've ever +come to <i>owning</i> anything," he +mused.</p> + +<p>"But, hon, Government owns +everything and takes care of everything. +When you can always use +a thing, how could it be better if +you owned it?"</p> + +<p>Allen held her against him tightly, +fighting the old fight to find +words. How could you explain how +you <i>felt</i> things to be right or wrong, +without really knowing the reasons?</p> + +<p>"Maybe," he said slowly, "it's as +though I wanted to keep you for +myself alone. But Nedda, if another +man made the right approach, +could you refuse him?" +After a minute he repeated, "Could +you?"</p> + +<p>Eventually, she made two answers.</p> + +<p>They were warm and wet and +dropped onto his chest.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">The Adjustment</span> Building +was a soaring, chastely +white structure of silicoid plastic, +dazzling in the hot morning sun. It +crossed Allen's mind fleetingly that +everything built nowadays would +long outlast the builders. That +seemed right, but he didn't know +why.</p> + +<p>He took his ID plaque from +Nedda and kissed her. He had tried +to dissuade her from coming with +him, but she had merely smiled +and held his arm and urged him +toward a double scooter.</p> + +<p>"This is it, beautiful," he said +shortly, at the entrance. And, with +an attempt at levity, "Don't take +any more protection." Actually, +what could you say? He went inside +quickly, without looking back.</p> + +<p>At the door marked <i>Kansas City +Department of Social Adjustment</i>, +he slipped his plaque into the correct +slot for a moment and was admitted +directly to the waiting room +for those who had appointments +for the day.</p> + +<p>There was only one other waiting—a +handsome blond youth +whose knife was new. Allen sat +down in a lounge chair across the +room.</p> + +<p>And Nedda came in and sat +down beside him.</p> + +<p>He could have understood almost +anything but that. "How in +the name of fear—"</p> + +<p>"Do you think," she said mischievously, +taking his hand, "the B +Sector champ is the only one who +can get an appointment?"</p> + +<p>Before it could more than flash +through Allen's mind that he'd +not told her that, the blond youth +was standing before them, his eyes +hotly on Nedda. Then, obviously +confused that she was already holding +hands, he addressed himself to +Allen as though it was what he had +intended doing.</p> + +<p>"Marty Bowen, sir. Uh—I'm going +to see if they'll let me have a +double compartment with some +gym apparatus in it." He shifted +his weight to the other foot and +hung a thumb nervously in his belt, +unable to keep from darting glances +at Nedda.</p> + +<p>Allen noted, with rising anger +and some other unpleasant emotion +he couldn't define, that she hadn't +dropped her eyes. He said curtly. +"Fine, kid—hope you make it." +The youth mumbled something else +and went back to his chair.</p> + +<p>He had barely seated himself +when a voder speaker crooned a +number melodiously. With a quick +backward glance at Nedda, the +blond lad went on into the counsel +room.</p> + +<p>Allen's mind remained in confusion, +shot through with anger at +himself that he should waste +thoughts now on anything but the +coming interview. The room was +beginning to fill quietly with others.</p> + +<p>His number was called a few +minutes later.</p> + +<p>And Nedda's was called along +with it.</p> + +<p>Well—the place to get the answer +was the counsel chamber. He +got up slowly, barely noticing that +Nedda continued to hold his hand +as they went in.</p> + +<p>The brilliant room was two +stories high, with fluted walls and +no windows. Obviously the size was +to impress interviewees. But why +should they have to be impressed? +Wasn't the wisdom of the five tech +doctors sufficient by itself? Wasn't +it?</p> + +<p>He sat in a chair indicated by +the dark-skinned one, and listened +while the very old one in the center +talked to Nedda.</p> + +<p>Had dating the B Sector park +champion solved her difficulty with +the man she had reported? Fine. +It was the second such report about +him in a year—the other also coming +from a girl who was highly +sexed. Did Nedda not consider herself +to have a problem which required +psychoconditioning? No? +Well, perhaps in later years, when +her beauty and her mind were +somewhat changed.... No, there +would seem to be no justification +for giving her a compartment in +another sector, unless she had persuaded +the champion or another to +share a double with her. Would +that be all? Much happiness to her.</p> + +<p>Abruptly, Allen realized Nedda +had left and that the frail old man +was talking to him.</p> + +<p>"... unusual to have joint interviews +without a more definite +emotional tie, but we felt you would +like to know how you had rendered +civic aid."</p> + +<p>So pitting him without choice +against any of several men was +their idea of civic aid. No wonder +he'd met so many protected girls in +the past. This time, they'd harnessed +Nedda's restless passion to +the task of dissuading him from a +DP. Very neat.</p> + +<p>It made him feel better to know +they'd failed where he was concerned, +and his resentment abated +somewhat. He said, "Glad I could +help," careful to keep his voice +emotionless. Then, determined to +have no further subtleties, "If I +can have my departure permit, I +won't trouble you further."</p> + +<p>Maybe his approach wasn't right, +but all they could do would be to +refuse him. In which case there +were other ways—and the hell with +legality.</p> + +<p>"We hope," smiled the old doctor +benignly, "there may be another +way. Perhaps, if we discuss +your problem, we can find a solution +which won't cost the city a +handsome young citizen."</p> + +<p>Allen made it a direct attack. +"Why should the city miss any citizen? +In fact, what good is the city +itself—what good is any city?"</p> + +<p>And almost, the techs seemed +startled. But a younger one said +easily, "A city, Mr. Kinderwood, +permits a maximum of efficient +service and pleasure, with a minimum +of waste and discomfort."</p> + +<p>Allen leaned back and stubbornly +folded his arms. "I've had +enough of pleasures and comforts +without meaning, and I've nothing +to do, and it doesn't look like anyone's +making any progress anywhere. +Even on the planets they're +just repeating backtime stuff with +modern equipment."</p> + +<p>The old man waved a hand at +the others and looked at Allen intently. +His voice was softly insistent. +"The one continuous thread +in human history has been the seeking +of more pleasure and greater +comfort for all members of the +race. Our technology gives us a +maximum of both. No one labors, +and the few who work prefer to do +so. No one is diseased, no one stays +in pain longer than the time necessary +to reach a medic. Everyone can +have everything he needs, without +striving and without debt. And as +technology advances, there will be +even greater benefits for all. What +more can be done to make the citizens +of Earth happy?"</p> + +<p>For the first time, Allen felt confused. +"I don't know," he said +slowly. "The way you put it, it +sounds right. But where does it all +lead? What reason have I got for +living? What reason does the human +race have for surviving?"</p> + +<p>The sociologist looked even older. +"In all seriousness, sir, can you +answer the questions you have just +asked?" His eyes were expectant—but +there didn't seem to be much +hope reflected in their depths.</p> + +<p>Allen noted a tenseness around +the table. Why were they asking +him for answers they were supposed +to know? Or was it another +of their subtleties?</p> + +<p>"No," he said curtly, "I don't +know the answer to any of them. +Has it got a bearing on my getting +a DP?"</p> + +<p>The central figure sighed. "None +at all." He pressed several tiny buttons +on the polished table and an +inscribed card rose halfway out of +a slot. "We merely hope that some +day a man will come along who +can tell us—before someone who +may not be a man comes along and +makes the answers futile." He +handed Allen the card. "Here is +your permit. You may take it to +the third office south on the corridor +through that door. We don't +feel it is the answer to your problem, +but we admit we don't—"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, sir," interrupted Allen. +He wet his lips. "Did you say +'someone who may <i>not be a man</i>'?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It is an aspect you have +not considered, Mr. Kinderwood." +The sociologist's face seemed haggard. +"Even a few generations ago, +Earth as it is today would have +seemed like a concept of heaven. +We know now it is not enough, but +we don't know why. Perhaps, if we +can reach the stars the problem will +cease to be critical. By the same +token, life from the stars may come +here first.</p> + +<p>"We have no remotest idea what +such an eventuality would entail. +It may provide a solution. It may +quite conceivably send man back +to the forests and jungles.</p> + +<p>"You have experienced our only +answer to the latter possibility. +While providing man with everything +to which he has aspired for +milleniums, we instill in him, +through the media of entertainment, +knowledge of all the survival +practices known to the backtimers +who painfully nurtured civilization +from an embryonic idea to its present +pinnacle. We can do no more."</p> + +<p>Allen flexed his arms involuntarily +at the sheer enormity of the +idea. It was one thing to let a useless +race expire, quite another to +think of its being forced back to— "But—can't +anyone think of anything +else to do?"</p> + +<p>"Whoever is capable of devising +anything else," the old doctor said +resignedly, "will undoubtedly be +able to carry it out with or without +our assistance." He pressed more +buttons and there was a muted +sound of the voder calling a number. +"The exit over there, Mr. Kinderwood. +And—much happiness."</p> + +<p>Allen's thoughts swirled in tumultuous +confusion. Dimly, he realized +that man had outstripped himself, +and saw with intense bitterness +that there was no answer on Earth +for any ordinary citizen. Or was +there? And if there was, was it +worth trying to find? He flung open +the door to the corridor violently, as +though the force could quiet his +mind. Maybe, if he didn't use the +permit, he could stay and figure +out an answer. Nedda would be +sympathetic and patient while— And +then he stopped. Across the +wide hallway, Nedda stood beneath +a window, looking at him. And the +blond youth held her with flushed +understanding, impatiently waiting, +caressing her arm with his hand, +binding her to him with the one +bond she could not break.</p> + +<p>She watched Allen start slowly +down the corridor. Once, when he +stumbled, she gave a stifled sob, and +tears brimmed and spilled silently +when he passed through the door +marked <i>Kansas City Department of +Euthanasia</i>.</p> + +<div class="trn"><div class="figt"><a href="images/002-2.jpg"><img src="images/002-1.jpg" width="142" height="200" alt="" title="" /></a></div> + +<p><big><b>Transcriber's Note:</b></big></p> + +<p>This etext was produced from <i>If Worlds of Science Fiction</i> September 1954. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and +typographical errors have been corrected without note.</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of DP, by Arthur Dekker Savage + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DP *** + +***** This file should be named 30305-h.htm or 30305-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/3/0/30305/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: DP + +Author: Arthur Dekker Savage + +Illustrator: Paul Orban + +Release Date: October 21, 2009 [EBook #30305] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DP *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + _Illustrated by Paul Orban_ + +DP + + _Once upon a time life was perfection. Government made sure its + citizens were supplied with every comfort and pleasure. But + sometimes perfection breeds boredom and ..._ + +BY ARTHUR DEKKER SAVAGE + + +Allen Kinderwood slowed his pace so his forelock would quit bobbing. The +damn thing wasn't supposed to bob; it was supposed to be a sort of +peaked crest above rugged, handsome features--a dark lock brushed +carelessly aside by a man who had more important things to do than fuss +with personal grooming. But no matter how carefully he combed it and +applied lusto-set, it always bobbed if he walked too fast. + +But then, why should it matter now? He wasn't looking for a woman +tonight. Not when his appointment with the Social Adjustment counsellors +was tomorrow morning, and he would get a Departure Permit. _Should_ get +one, he corrected himself. But he had never heard of a petition for a DP +being refused. + +He wanted to spend his last night in the city over here in the main park +of C Sector, walking in the restless crowds, trying to settle his +thoughts. He moved through slow aimless eddies of brightly appareled +citizens, avoiding other pedestrians, skaters and the heavy, +four-wheeled autoscooters. Everything was dully, uncompromisingly the +same as in his own sector, even to the size and spacing of the huge, +spreading trees. He had hoped, without conviction, that there might be +some tiny, refreshing difference--anything but the mind-sapping +sameness that had driven him to the petition. + +[Illustration] + +Allen was careful not to brush against any girl with an escort. Since he +wasn't on the make, what would be the use of fighting? Kind of an odd +feeling, though, to know you'd never date or fight again, or ... Or +what? What else was there to do, if you hadn't the luck to be a jobman +or a tech? You ate, and slept, and preened, and exercised, and found +what pleasure you could, and fought mostly because it was momentarily +stimulating, and, eventually, after a hundred and fifty years or so, you +died. + +Unless you were a tech. If you were a tech, Government gave you stuff to +keep you alive longer. A jobman got a somewhat different deal--he got +nothing to keep him alive abnormally, because ninety percent of Earth's +population was waiting for his job anyway. + +Allen skirted a huge fountain throwing colored, scintillant spray high +into the dark summer sky, stealing a glance backward over his shoulder. +That girl was still behind him. Following him? It wouldn't be anything +new, in his case--especially in his own sector--but maybe she just +happened to be going his way. + +It would be easy to find out. He circled the fountain twice. With her +looks she should have been picked up before she'd left her compartment +building block--except that whoever got her might have to fight more +than once during the evening to hold her. Definitely a young man's +darling. + +And, the way it began to look, definitely Allen's darling. On the second +trip around, she had backtracked to meet him face to face--her purpose +obvious. + +He tried to dodge, but there was no way it could be done without insult. +Damn.... + +"Hi, brute. Nedda Marsh. Alone?" She ran soft hands along the hard +biceps under his short jacket sleeves. The motion threw open her +shriekingly bright orange cloak, displaying saucy breasts, creamy +abdomen and, beneath her brief jeweled skirt, long smooth thighs. And +the perfume assailed his nostrils with almost physical force. + +"Hi, Nedda. Allen Kinderwood. Alone, natch." Natch, hell. But what could +any male do to combat Government perfume? He smiled, his pulse suddenly +quickening. "Date, darling?" She _was_ a beautiful thing. + +Her large, sparkling eyes showed pleasure. "Take me, Al." She touched +vivid red lips lightly against his. And the formula was complete. +Private citizens Allen Kinderwood and Nedda Marsh were dated at least +until dawn--or a better man did them part. + +He squeezed her arm where she'd snuggled it against his side, starting +with her away from the fountain. "How come the most gorgeous thing in +Kansas City wasn't dated earlier?" + +She looked up at him, and the passion in her gaze made his heart skip +like a teener's. "Could be I'm very particular, darling, but," her look +was suddenly beseeching, "the truth is, I'm protected." + +A slow, tiny fire of distaste fanned itself alive in Allen's brain. Why +in the name of World Government did every other girl who made first play +with him have to be protected? But there was his out. By unwritten +social code he could declare the date off. Except that he had grown to +increasingly hate the spiteful practice of 'protection'. It meant Nedda +had peeved some local lothario who, along with other males in his +clique, was going to damn well see she wasn't intimate with anyone else +until she begged another date with the original one. If you had a +sadistic turn of mind, it meant you could keep a delectable bit in +freeze until her natural inclinations forced her into your arms. But +you'd have to fight any man who tried to date her in the meantime. + +Fighting was legal, of course, as long as the loser was surgically +repairable, and it was considered a normal catharsis for strained +relationships between males. + +Not, Allen thought glumly, that he had any stake in the future of +frantically weary society, but he had reached the conclusion long ago +that a man without the courage to back up his personal convictions +wasn't worth the energy it took to down him. + +He stopped and held Nedda against him protectively. "I still want the +date, sprite," he said. "I have to leave early tomorrow, but I'll try +to get you out of protection--okay?" + +Her lips trembled. "Oh, yes. If you knew how it's been, these last few +days--" + +He shook her again, but more tenderly. "Deal. We'll try to reach your +compartment." Living quarters were a sanctuary no one but a medic could +legally enter without invitation. He removed his stainless +identification plaque and slipped its chain about her throat. "If you +see any of the guys who're watching for you, tell me but don't look at +them." He took her arm again and alertly began to work through the +throng. "Describe your protector." + +"Jeff Neal-Hayne. He's big, Al. Bigger than you. Heavier, but you've got +muscles like he never saw. You look faster, too." + +Allen didn't know him, but the name was revealing. Not that anything but +your Earth society number was official, but use of a double surname +meant your father had elected to stay with your mother for at least a +while after you were born. Most babies, of course, were immediately +turned over to a Government creche, but it had always seemed to Allen +that kids raised by one or more parents had other advantages too, +although he had never been able to figure out just what they were. Maybe +it was only his imagination. + + * * * * * + +At the edge of the park they chose the nearest double scooter which +showed full battery charge. + +Allen leaned against the forward rail. "Herd it, will you, Nedda? Every +time I think of the hundreds of hours I've spent plowing air with one of +these gut-weighted things I want to break one. Hell, I can run faster. +Anyway, you know where we're going." + +The girl smiled, pushed the power lever into forward range and steered +into slow-moving traffic. "I saw a man lift a single, once, but that's +all he was able to do with it." + +The lighted street seemed intensely bright after the dimmer reaches of +the park. "Ever think of running one into the river?" + +She looked at him in amazement. "Fright, no. Why--you'd have to drive +along a pedestrian path for at least a block to reach the bank!" Nedda +spun the steering wheel to avoid a long string of solemn teeners playing +follow the leader on singles. "You have funny thoughts, Al." + +"I'm laughing." He flexed his muscles, impatient, as usual, with another +citizen's sluggish mentation. "I suppose the damn music never gets on +your nerves, either?" + +"Music? Oh--the music." She listened as though for the first time to the +muted strains which played continuously throughout the city--calming, +soothing, lulling. "Of course not. Why should it?" + +"They've got it synchronized," said Allen. "Government's got it +synchronized so you hear it just the same volume no matter where you are +outside. You _have_ to listen to it." + +"Darling, your boredom's showing." + +He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Don't let me spin you, lovely. I've +got the answer." + +"Oh?" + +"Yeah. I applied for a DP this morning." + +"Al--_no_!" + +"Why not?" He put it like the needle thrust of a fighting knife, daring +her to find a reason, half hoping she could. + +"I--" She glanced at him once, quickly, then away. Then she drew a deep +breath and let it sigh out. "How about Mars, Al? There aren't many +service machines, and they even let women do lots of little detailed +things. I almost went, once." + +He was watching her shrewdly. "Why didn't you?" He had fought this one +out with himself before. + +"Oh--I don't know. Just never did." + +"I'll tell you why you really didn't. It'd be too different. When the +Government provides every convenience, every comfort you can think of +here, you can't stand having to work in a mine, with an oxygen helmet, +stuffed into heavy clothes. You can't stand the danger and the fear--and +somehow, inside, you must know it. I'm pretty strong, and I never met a +man I was afraid of, but I know I couldn't stand Mars." He gripped the +rail and stared out over the wide, swarming street. "But Earth is a +trap, Nedda. A big comfortable trap where you walk around endlessly +without being any use at all." + +She trod the brake and barely missed bumping a couple who had stopped to +embrace. "_I'm_ some use, hon. Wait'll we get home." Her eyes held a +promise she could barely restrain. + +Automatically, he caressed her with a practiced hand--and grabbed the +wheel when she suddenly strained against him, trembling, pressing eager +lips against his neck. + +Christ, how long had she been protected? He felt a mounting anger +against the social ennui which drove men's minds to such inhuman +activity. Departure was the only escape from this kind of thing, and +from the city--from any city. + +But the Departees had always been only a tiny minority. Did that mean +they--and he--were wrong? He brooded about it for seemingly the googolth +time, guiding the scooter without conscious thought, turning as Nedda +directed. + +A trap, he'd told her. Well, he could see no reason to change that. The +blazingly glorious sensotheaters, cafes, gymnasiums, dancing salons, +amusement rides and hypnodream houses, crowding every main thoroughfare +with their fantastically ornate architecture, were--when you thought +about it--designed to trap people's minds, keep them from thinking of +anything but a gossamer, useless pursuit of personal pleasure. And +wasn't the design faulty when everyone was bored, when some chose +Departure and others sank to the unnatural practice of protection to +whet their sated appetites? + +Nor was there any apparent hope for the future. Theatre productions, +dream tapes, even the elaborate home teleview shows were all historical. +Why? Was Government admitting there was nothing but staleness in the +present? Why the concern with backtime? + +Because of Government entertainment diet, Allen could probably, with a +bit of practice, fish skillfully from an outrigger, make and use a +longbow expertly, run a store profitably in the Money Ages, weave cloth +correctly, build complete wooden houses--oh, any number of ancient +things. + +But he couldn't even talk the same language as the relative handful of +trained men who built and operated the unbelievably intricate +robomachinery which activated and maintained the complex cities of +Earth. + + * * * * * + +Nedda's soft voice broke into his thoughts. "Al--Dan Halgersen's coming +up behind us on a single. He's one of Jeff's--" + +"Hold on." Allen swung the scooter hard right and adroitly darted across +traffic toward an emblazoned theatre entrance. Here, now, was a +situation he knew how to deal with. He said rapidly, out of the side of +his mouth, "Jump off when I stop at the entry and kiss me like good-by. +Register your plaque in the ID slot and head for the door--then look +back. If I'm down, go on in and lose yourself. If he's down, come back." + +He made a wrenching stop at the very edge of the crowd, swung Nedda +through the opening between front and side rails and gave her a hard, +sterile kiss. + +She clung to him a moment. Without letting her eyes stray she said, +"Slowing down right behind you. Luck, lover." Then she turned and +started to pick her way across the walk. + +Allen swung the scooter in a fast, tight circle to the left. Assuming +his opponent to be right-handed, this would help avoid a knife slash +from the rear if the other rammed his scooter--further assuming the man +had _not_ been tricked into thinking his presence was unnoticed. + +He hadn't. When Allen whipped his head around to look at him, there was +barely time to brake the heavier double to avoid a shrewdly planned +collision. Halgersen, Nedda had said. He was thick-set, with heavy brows +and large jaw. The type Allen had learned to associate with power and +endurance but not too much speed. + +Halgersen was holding a knife in his right hand. Allen quickly slipped +his own blade from the sheath conveniently held at the front of his +belt. They cut intricate patterns of feint, attack and withdraw, using +passing vehicles as buffers. But not for long. + +A voice from the crowd called, "Fight!" and space grew miraculously +about the combatants, leaving a huge clearing in the street rimmed +solidly with scooters and pedestrians. A few shouts of encouragement +began to be heard as individuals selected one or the other of the men as +a likely winner. + +Allen dodged a sudden attempt at a side-swipe collision and the +attendant vicious swipe of Halgersen's blade--and then drew first blood +by a lightning riposte to the arm. Legal knife target was arm, leg, +abdomen and a forehead cut without thrust--which would obscure vision +with blood without doing organic damage. + +The bright yellow luminescence of a police copter dropped and hovered as +Allen tried to follow up his momentary advantage. The scene, he knew, +would now be simultaneously filmed for possible legal record and +broadcast on all teleview news programs. Entertainment for adults, +education for the teeners. + +A feminine voice in the front ranks called, "Two stunts to one on green +jacket!" and was immediately taken up by another girl near by. + +He had little time to think with satisfaction that no female had ever +been forced to pay off a bet of some ingeniously embarrassing public +behavior on his account. Halgersen was now trying to maneuver him for a +straight ram which would bring them definitely together. He wasn't being +weakened by the slow drip of blood from his arm and he didn't seem to be +bothered by pain. + +And then they were close to the circle rim. Allen swung his scooter so +the cooling downdraft from the copter--coming from above the center of +the cleared area--was directly against his back, a method he had devised +for knowing his position without having to take his eyes from a close +opponent. He let his shoulders droop suddenly, as though he was tired, +and at the murmur of disappointment from many onlookers he began to back +slowly away from Halgersen. + +The blue-jacketed figure rolled into the trap scowling. He tried again +for a head-on ram. Allen let him come, and at the last possible instant, +when Halgersen would be unable to reverse, stop, or even swerve, he +flipped the bar to full power ahead. And braced himself accordingly. + +The scooters met with a bone-jarring thud of perimeter rubber. Halgersen +was hurled neatly over his own guard rail to land gaspingly across +Allen's. + +Allen grasped the back of the other's belt in a grip that had dismayed +many a combatant, hauled him into position and hamstrung both legs with +two dextrous thrust-and-cut movements. It took but a moment longer to +leap above a desperate slash at his own legs, drag the heavier man to +the thick floor of the scooter and render him unconscious with a +stamping kick of one sandaled heel. It left an easy repair job for the +medics, but would keep one Dan Halgersen from fighting again for more +than a week--and maybe make him think twice about joining in another +protection pact. + +Allen leaped up and balanced on two guard rails while the police copter +settled down to pick up Halgersen. He signaled Nedda to move on along +the walkway. + +While the onlookers were clapping approval of the show, he removed +Halgersen's plaque, leaped down and dodged an attempted kiss from the +girl who had given odds on him--glancing back warily in case her escort +felt insulted--then pushed through the mob to join Nedda. + +She hugged his arm ecstatically. "Darling, every woman should have a guy +like you." + +"Yeah." He felt no sense of triumph. It had happened too many times +before. Everything had happened too many times before--repetitive, +palling and purposeless. He tucked the won plaque into her decorative +belt. It was Nedda's proof that protection was ended, and Halgersen +would have to call for it accompanied by a witness. + +"Where the hell is your place?" he asked. For a moment he wondered why +he didn't just turn abruptly and leave her, social mores +notwithstanding. Then Nedda's perfume began its chemical magic again, +and he carefully straightened his jacket and set his forelock in its +proper place. + + * * * * * + +"Nedda," he accused lazily, "you're a nymph. Ever tried +psychoconditioning?" + +She gave him a tender, lingering kiss and burrowed more comfortably in +his arms. "Not yet, darling. Would you prefer me less--responsive?" + +Allen patted her as carefully as possible to show approval without +arousing her again. "No man would. But it must be rough between dates, +isn't it?" And just why should he be worrying about anyone else at this +stage of the game? Maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was just curious now that +it no longer mattered. + +She avoided his eyes in the cool semigloom of the compartment. +"I--usually manage to have enough dates. Until some moron like +Neal-Hayne puts me under protection." + +He disengaged himself gently, rolled off the pliant couch and increased +the room's light with the wall knob. "You should register a complaint, +Nedda. After three he'll be forcibly psyched, you know." He dialed the +servoconsole and focused a morning meal menu on the viewscreen. "Ready +for breakfast, pip?" + +"Mmm--if you are." Nedda came over and lifted the phone from its panel +recess. "That number six algal protein is supposed to be a new taste +sensation. Like?" + +He shrugged. "Let's try it. It'll be my last go at this robot feed." + +When the meals had been deposited in the service chute she looked at him +pleadingly. "Hon, why don't _you_ try being psyched? They could make you +satisfied with--things as they are." + +Allen lifted a thin transparent food cover while he shook his head. +"Maybe they could, Nedda. But it would have to be almost total erasure +to change my slant on everything, and being forced to accept what I hate +is worse than anything else I can think of. It wouldn't be me when they +got through. Whatever causes me to think like I do is the _me_, and +that'd be gone." + +Some of the resentful animosity surged up in him and he had to talk +about it. "Look at your compartment. The same as every other single in +the city--or any city. The walls are the shade of green that's best for +the eyes. Furniture and fixtures are always the same colors. Every +compartment has a servoconsole to condition the air, control the +temperature and humidity, bring you food or any other standard service, +provide teleview shows, music or requests. You could live your life +inside this square hole. Everybody has everything and nothing means +anything--can't you see that?" + +She came around the table and sat on his lap with her head against his +neck. "No, presh, but if you'll change your mind about a DP you can date +me any time, always. I'd like to share a double with you forever." + +He traced soothing circles on her smooth back with his fingertips. +"That's the closest I've ever come to _owning_ anything," he mused. + +"But, hon, Government owns everything and takes care of everything. When +you can always use a thing, how could it be better if you owned it?" + +Allen held her against him tightly, fighting the old fight to find +words. How could you explain how you _felt_ things to be right or wrong, +without really knowing the reasons? + +"Maybe," he said slowly, "it's as though I wanted to keep you for myself +alone. But Nedda, if another man made the right approach, could you +refuse him?" After a minute he repeated, "Could you?" + +Eventually, she made two answers. + +They were warm and wet and dropped onto his chest. + + * * * * * + +The Adjustment Building was a soaring, chastely white structure of +silicoid plastic, dazzling in the hot morning sun. It crossed Allen's +mind fleetingly that everything built nowadays would long outlast the +builders. That seemed right, but he didn't know why. + +He took his ID plaque from Nedda and kissed her. He had tried to +dissuade her from coming with him, but she had merely smiled and held +his arm and urged him toward a double scooter. + +"This is it, beautiful," he said shortly, at the entrance. And, with an +attempt at levity, "Don't take any more protection." Actually, what +could you say? He went inside quickly, without looking back. + +At the door marked _Kansas City Department of Social Adjustment_, he +slipped his plaque into the correct slot for a moment and was admitted +directly to the waiting room for those who had appointments for the day. + +There was only one other waiting--a handsome blond youth whose knife was +new. Allen sat down in a lounge chair across the room. + +And Nedda came in and sat down beside him. + +He could have understood almost anything but that. "How in the name of +fear--" + +"Do you think," she said mischievously, taking his hand, "the B Sector +champ is the only one who can get an appointment?" + +Before it could more than flash through Allen's mind that he'd not told +her that, the blond youth was standing before them, his eyes hotly on +Nedda. Then, obviously confused that she was already holding hands, he +addressed himself to Allen as though it was what he had intended doing. + +"Marty Bowen, sir. Uh--I'm going to see if they'll let me have a double +compartment with some gym apparatus in it." He shifted his weight to the +other foot and hung a thumb nervously in his belt, unable to keep from +darting glances at Nedda. + +Allen noted, with rising anger and some other unpleasant emotion he +couldn't define, that she hadn't dropped her eyes. He said curtly. +"Fine, kid--hope you make it." The youth mumbled something else and went +back to his chair. + +He had barely seated himself when a voder speaker crooned a number +melodiously. With a quick backward glance at Nedda, the blond lad went +on into the counsel room. + +Allen's mind remained in confusion, shot through with anger at himself +that he should waste thoughts now on anything but the coming interview. +The room was beginning to fill quietly with others. + +His number was called a few minutes later. + +And Nedda's was called along with it. + +Well--the place to get the answer was the counsel chamber. He got up +slowly, barely noticing that Nedda continued to hold his hand as they +went in. + +The brilliant room was two stories high, with fluted walls and no +windows. Obviously the size was to impress interviewees. But why should +they have to be impressed? Wasn't the wisdom of the five tech doctors +sufficient by itself? Wasn't it? + +He sat in a chair indicated by the dark-skinned one, and listened while +the very old one in the center talked to Nedda. + +Had dating the B Sector park champion solved her difficulty with the man +she had reported? Fine. It was the second such report about him in a +year--the other also coming from a girl who was highly sexed. Did Nedda +not consider herself to have a problem which required psychoconditioning? +No? Well, perhaps in later years, when her beauty and her mind were +somewhat changed.... No, there would seem to be no justification for +giving her a compartment in another sector, unless she had persuaded the +champion or another to share a double with her. Would that be all? Much +happiness to her. + +Abruptly, Allen realized Nedda had left and that the frail old man was +talking to him. + +"... unusual to have joint interviews without a more definite emotional +tie, but we felt you would like to know how you had rendered civic aid." + +So pitting him without choice against any of several men was their idea +of civic aid. No wonder he'd met so many protected girls in the past. +This time, they'd harnessed Nedda's restless passion to the task of +dissuading him from a DP. Very neat. + +It made him feel better to know they'd failed where he was concerned, +and his resentment abated somewhat. He said, "Glad I could help," +careful to keep his voice emotionless. Then, determined to have no +further subtleties, "If I can have my departure permit, I won't trouble +you further." + +Maybe his approach wasn't right, but all they could do would be to +refuse him. In which case there were other ways--and the hell with +legality. + +"We hope," smiled the old doctor benignly, "there may be another way. +Perhaps, if we discuss your problem, we can find a solution which won't +cost the city a handsome young citizen." + +Allen made it a direct attack. "Why should the city miss any citizen? In +fact, what good is the city itself--what good is any city?" + +And almost, the techs seemed startled. But a younger one said easily, "A +city, Mr. Kinderwood, permits a maximum of efficient service and +pleasure, with a minimum of waste and discomfort." + +Allen leaned back and stubbornly folded his arms. "I've had enough of +pleasures and comforts without meaning, and I've nothing to do, and it +doesn't look like anyone's making any progress anywhere. Even on the +planets they're just repeating backtime stuff with modern equipment." + +The old man waved a hand at the others and looked at Allen intently. His +voice was softly insistent. "The one continuous thread in human history +has been the seeking of more pleasure and greater comfort for all +members of the race. Our technology gives us a maximum of both. No one +labors, and the few who work prefer to do so. No one is diseased, no one +stays in pain longer than the time necessary to reach a medic. Everyone +can have everything he needs, without striving and without debt. And as +technology advances, there will be even greater benefits for all. What +more can be done to make the citizens of Earth happy?" + +For the first time, Allen felt confused. "I don't know," he said slowly. +"The way you put it, it sounds right. But where does it all lead? What +reason have I got for living? What reason does the human race have for +surviving?" + +The sociologist looked even older. "In all seriousness, sir, can you +answer the questions you have just asked?" His eyes were expectant--but +there didn't seem to be much hope reflected in their depths. + +Allen noted a tenseness around the table. Why were they asking him for +answers they were supposed to know? Or was it another of their +subtleties? + +"No," he said curtly, "I don't know the answer to any of them. Has it +got a bearing on my getting a DP?" + +The central figure sighed. "None at all." He pressed several tiny +buttons on the polished table and an inscribed card rose halfway out of +a slot. "We merely hope that some day a man will come along who can tell +us--before someone who may not be a man comes along and makes the +answers futile." He handed Allen the card. "Here is your permit. You may +take it to the third office south on the corridor through that door. We +don't feel it is the answer to your problem, but we admit we don't--" + +"Pardon me, sir," interrupted Allen. He wet his lips. "Did you say +'someone who may _not be a man_'?" + +"Yes. It is an aspect you have not considered, Mr. Kinderwood." The +sociologist's face seemed haggard. "Even a few generations ago, Earth as +it is today would have seemed like a concept of heaven. We know now it +is not enough, but we don't know why. Perhaps, if we can reach the stars +the problem will cease to be critical. By the same token, life from the +stars may come here first. + +"We have no remotest idea what such an eventuality would entail. It may +provide a solution. It may quite conceivably send man back to the +forests and jungles. + +"You have experienced our only answer to the latter possibility. While +providing man with everything to which he has aspired for milleniums, we +instill in him, through the media of entertainment, knowledge of all the +survival practices known to the backtimers who painfully nurtured +civilization from an embryonic idea to its present pinnacle. We can do +no more." + +Allen flexed his arms involuntarily at the sheer enormity of the idea. +It was one thing to let a useless race expire, quite another to think of +its being forced back to-- "But--can't anyone think of anything else to +do?" + +"Whoever is capable of devising anything else," the old doctor said +resignedly, "will undoubtedly be able to carry it out with or without +our assistance." He pressed more buttons and there was a muted sound of +the voder calling a number. "The exit over there, Mr. Kinderwood. +And--much happiness." + +Allen's thoughts swirled in tumultuous confusion. Dimly, he realized +that man had outstripped himself, and saw with intense bitterness that +there was no answer on Earth for any ordinary citizen. Or was there? And +if there was, was it worth trying to find? He flung open the door to the +corridor violently, as though the force could quiet his mind. Maybe, if +he didn't use the permit, he could stay and figure out an answer. Nedda +would be sympathetic and patient while-- And then he stopped. Across the +wide hallway, Nedda stood beneath a window, looking at him. And the +blond youth held her with flushed understanding, impatiently waiting, +caressing her arm with his hand, binding her to him with the one bond +she could not break. + +She watched Allen start slowly down the corridor. Once, when he +stumbled, she gave a stifled sob, and tears brimmed and spilled silently +when he passed through the door marked _Kansas City Department of +Euthanasia_. + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _If Worlds of Science Fiction_ + September 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that + the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. 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