Charles Beaumont

“ She looked down at her own body, then at the walls which reflected it. Flesh of her flesh, bone of her bone, all hers, made by no one, built by herself or someone she did not know. Uneven kneecaps, making two grinning cherubs when they bent, and the old familiar rubbing together of fat inner thighs. Fat, unshapely, unsystematic Mary. But Mary.
Of course. Of course! This was what Daddy meant, what Grandpa and the books meant. What they would know if they would read the books or hear the words, the good, reasonable words, the words that signified more, much more, than any of this. ”

“ Captain Webber shook his head and tossed down his drink.
Mr. Greypoole leaned back in his chair and crossed a leg. "Ah," he continued, "you have no idea how good this is. Once in a while it does get lonely for me here—no man is an island, or how does it go? Why, I can remember when Mr. Waldmeyer first told me of this idea. 'A grave responsibility,' he said, 'a grave responsibility.' Mr. Waldmeyer has a keen sense of humor, needless to say."
Captain Webber looked out the window. A small child on roller skates stood still on the sidewalk. Mr. Greypoole laughed. ”

“ Ritchie was silent.
"Where were they going, what were they doing? See? The kid says every dream, even ours, builds its own whole world—complete, with a past and—as long as you stay asleep—a future."
"Nonsense! What about us, when we sleep and dream? Or is the period when we're unconscious the time he's up and around? And keep in mind that everybody doesn't sleep at the same time—"
"You're missing the point, Hank. I said it was complete, didn't I? And isn't sleeping part of the pattern?"
"Have another drink, Max. You're slipping." ”

“ That is the reason. They have all forgotten themselves!"
A curvacious woman stepped forward and took Mary's hand. The woman's skin was tinted dark. Chipped and sculptured bone into slender rhythmic lines, electrically created carriage, stance, made, turned out.
"All right, young lady. We will begin."
They guided Mary to a large, curved leather seat.
From the top of a long silver pole a machine lowered itself. Tiny bulbs glowed to life and cells began to click. The people stared. Slowly a picture formed upon the screen in the machine. Bulbs directed at Mary, then redirected into the machine. ”

“ The faint murmur, "A good machine checks and double checks," could be heard from Mr. Greypoole, who otherwise said nothing.
"I speak for my men: we're confused, terribly confused. But whatever this is, we're stuck, can't you see? All we want is a place to begin again—" Captain Webber paused, looked at the others and went on in a softer tone. "We're tired men, Mr. Greypoole; we're poorly equipped, but we do have weapons and if this is some hypnotic kind of trap...." ”

“ Nobody else on this planet has ever refused the Transformation. But you turn it down. You want to be ugly!"
Mary put her arms about her mother's shoulders. "I wish I could explain, I've tried so hard to. It isn't that I want to bother anyone, or that Daddy wanted me to. I just don't want the Transformation."
Mrs. Cuberle reached into the pockets of her blouse and got a purple pill. She swallowed the pill. When the letter dropped from the chute, Mrs. Cuberle ran to snatch it up. ”

“ The fiery leg fell into the cool air, heating it, causing it to smoke; it burnt into the green grass and licked a craterous hole. There were fireflags and firesparks, hisses and explosions and the weary groaning sound of a great beast suddenly roused from sleep.
The rocket landed. ”

“ Ritchie shrugged. "They're hungry, Max. You forget, there hasn't been an execution in this state for over two years. They're hungry."
"So a poor dumb kid's got to fry alive in order for them to get their kicks...." ”

“ Mr. Milton said, "It doesn't make any sense! There haven't been cemeteries for ages. And even if this were true, why should anyone want to go all the way through space to a little asteroid? They might just as well have built these things on Earth."
"Who would want all this when they're dead, anyway?"
"You mean all these people are dead?"
For a few moments there was complete and utter silence in the lobby of the building.
"Are those things true, that we read in your booklet?" asked Captain Webber after Lieutenant Peterson had brought in the prisoner. ”

“ The woman replied without distracting her eyes from the magazine page. "It's the doctor's idea. Psychological."
Mrs. Cuberle opened her mouth and moved her head up and down knowingly.
"Ohhh. I should have known there was some reason. Still, who watches it?"
"The children do. Makes them think, makes them grateful or something."
"Ohhh."
"Psychological."
Mary picked up a magazine and leafed through the pages. All photographs, of women and men. Women like Mother and like the others in the room; slender, tanned, shapely, beautiful women; and men with large muscles and shiny hair. ”

“ She feels that her body has developed sufficiently for the Transformation—which of course it has not, not quite yet—and she cannot understand the complex reasons that compel her to wait until some future date. Mary looks at you, at the women all about her, at the pictures, and then she looks into a mirror. ”

“ Lieutenant Peterson first, then Captain Webber, Mr. Friden and the rest of the crew. Mr. Greypoole followed.
"You must forgive me—it's been a while. Take chairs, there, there. Now, what news of—home, shall I say?" The little man stared.
Captain Webber shifted uncomfortably. He glanced around the room at the lace curtains, the needle-point tapestries and the lavender wallpaper.
"Mr. Greypoole, I'd like to ask some questions."
"Certainly, certainly. But first, this being an occasion—" the little man stared at each man carefully, then shook his head "—ah, do you all like wine? Good wine?" ”

“ My home ... a world of eternities, an eternity of worlds.... I must destroy, hurt, kill before I wake always ... and then once more I must sleep ... always, always....
"Look, there's a hundred vagrants in every city. ”

“ MARY stepped into the elevator and descended several hundred feet. At the Second Level she pressed a button and the elevator stopped. The doors opened with another button and the doors to her Unit with still another.
Mrs. Cuberle sat on the floor by the T-V, disconsolate and red-eyed. Her blond hair had come slightly askew and a few strands hung over her forehead. "You don't need to tell me. No one will hire you." ”

“ We're from the planet Earth. They were going to have another war, the 'Last War' they said, and we escaped in that rocket and started off for Mars. But something went wrong—fellow named Appleton pulled a gun, others just didn't like the Martians—we needn't go into it; they wouldn't have us so Mars didn't work out. Something else went wrong then, soon we were lost with only a little store of fuel and supplies. Then Mr. Friden noticed this city or whatever it is and we had enough fuel to land so we landed."
Mr. Greypoole nodded his head slowly, somehow, sadder than before. ”

“ Part of what Daddy and Grandpa meant.
"But you're so ugly, dear! Like Dr. Hortel said. And Mr. Willmes, at the factory. He told some people he thought you were the ugliest girl he'd ever seen. Says he'll be thankful when you have your Transformation. And what if he hears of all this, what'll happen then?"
"Daddy said I was beautiful."
"Well really, dear. You do have eyes."
"Daddy said that real beauty is only skin deep. He said a lot of things like that and when I read the books I felt the same way. I guess I don't want to look like everybody else, that's all." ”

“ It really hurt."
"So what's the point?"
"In my dream I tried to get away from my old man. He chased me all over that basement. Well, it's the same with the kid—except his dream is a hundred times more vivid, that's all. He knows he'll feel that electric chair, feel the jolts frying into him, feel the death boiling up in his throat just as much as if he were honest-to-God sitting there...."
Kaplan stopped talking. The two men sat quietly watching the clock's invisible progress. Then Ritchie leaped up and stalked over to the bar again. "Doggone you, Max," he called. ”

“ To begin, when from the moment of your departure you had wars of your own, and killed, and hurled mocking prejudice against a race of people not like you, a race who rejected and cast you out into space again! ”

“ Here we have happiness and brotherhood, here there have never been wars or hatreds or prejudices. And now you who were many and left Earth to escape war and hatred, who were many by your own word and are now only six, you want to begin life here? ”

“ The way you defended the kid—brilliantly, masterfully. You'd never have done that for a common open-and-shut little killer."
"Max," Ritchie said, "you're nuts. Tell you what: at exactly 12:01 I'll take you out for the biggest, juiciest, rarest steak you ever saw. On me. Then we'll get loaded and fall all over ourselves laughing—"
Ritchie fought away the sudden picture of steak, rare steak, with the blood sputtering out, sizzling on an electric stove.
The clock began to strike. Henry Ritchie and Max Kaplan stood very still. ”

“ Cuberle," the doctor said, "I suggest that your husband have a long talk with Mary."
"My husband is dead. That affair near Ganymede, I believe. Something like that."
"Oh, splendid. Rocket man, eh? Very interesting organisms. Something always seems to happen to rocket men, in one way or another. But—I suppose we should do something." The doctor scratched his jaw. "When did she first start talking this way," he asked. ”

“ Nothing can get out, nothing get in—except things like rockets. Then, it's self-sealing, needless to say. But to get on, Captain. With all the technical advancements, it soon got to where there was no real work to be done here; they threw up the film and coated us with their preservative or, as they put it, Eternifier, and—well, with the exception of my calendar and the communications system, everything's worked perfectly, including myself."
No one said anything for a while. Then Captain Webber said, with great slowness, "You're lying. ”

“ The modern child wants facts, solid technical data, to satisfy her every question. And that, as you can both see, will take a good deal of reorganizing."
"But—" said Mary.
"The child is upset, nervous, tense; she acts strange, peculiar, odd, worries you and makes herself ill because it is beyond our meagre powers to put it across. I tell you, what we need is a whole new basis for learning. And, that will take [8] doing. It will take doing, Mrs. Cuberle. Now, don't you worry about Mary, and don't you worry, child. I'll prescribe some pills and—"
"No, no, doctor! You're all mixed up," cried Mrs. ”

“ Our own difficulties. Isn't it ironic, somehow, Friden? We band together and fly away from war and, no sooner are we off the earth but we begin other wars.... I've often felt that if Appleton hadn't been so aggressive with that gun we would never have been kicked off Mars. And why did we have to laugh at them? Oh, I'm afraid I haven't been a very successful captain. ”

“ Hortel here, testifies that Mary Cuberle is definitely not insane. Drs. Monagh, Prinn and Fedders all verify this judgment. Dr. Prinn asserts that the human organism is no longer so constructed as to create and sustain such an attitude through deliberate falsehood. Further, there is positively nothing in the structure of Mary Cuberle which might suggest difficulties in Transformation. ”

“ Chitterwick to the galley, Mr. Goeblin to the engineering chair, Mr. Friden to the navigator's room....
"Sir, what's going to happen? Where's the antidote?"
Mr. Milton to the pilot's chair....
"The pain will last only another moment or so—it's unfortunately part of the Eternifier," said Mr. Greypoole. "There, all in order? Good, good. Now, Captain, I see understanding in your face; that pleases me more than I can say. My position is so difficult! But you can see, when a machine is geared to its job—which is to retain permanence on HAPPY GLADES—well, a machine is a machine. ”

“ I believe I'll suggest it to the senator day after tomorrow."
"I don't quite understand, doctor."
"Simply, Mrs. Cuberle, that the children have got to be thoroughly instructed. Thoroughly. Too much is taken for granted and childish minds somehow refuse to accept things without definite reason. Children have become far too intellectual, which, as I trust I needn't remind you, is a dangerous thing."
"Yes, but what has this to do with—"
"With Mary? Everything, of course. Mary, like half the sixteen, seventeen and eighteen year olds today, has begun to feel acutely self-conscious. ”

“ Nothing. Just escape—"
"But I see no women—how could you begin again, as you suggest?"
"Women? Too weak; they would not have lasted. We brought along eggs and machines—enough for our needs."
Mr. Greypoole clucked his tongue. "Mr. Waldmeyer certainly did look ahead," he muttered, "he certainly did."
"Will we be honest now? Will you help us?"
"Yes, Captain, I will help you. Let us go back to your rocket." Mr. Greypoole smiled. "Things will be better there."
Captain Webber signaled. They left the building and walked by the foot of a white mountain. ”

“ He smiled and gestured toward two adjoining chairs.
"Well—well."
"Doctor Hortel, I—"
THE doctor snapped his fingers.
"Of course, I know. Your daughter. Ha ha, I certainly do know your trouble. Get so many of them nowadays—takes up most of my time."
"You do?" asked Mrs. Cuberle. "Frankly, it had begun to upset me."
"Upset? Hmm. Not good. Not good at all. Ah, but then—if people did not get upset, we psychiatrists would be out of a job, eh? Go the way of the early M. D. But, I assure you, I need hear no more." He turned his handsome face to Mary. [7] "Little girl, how old are you?" ”

“ Take him away, Lieutenant, for now. I want to think a bit. We'll talk to Mr. Greypoole later on."
Lieutenant Peterson pulled the smiling little man out into the street and pointed a gun at him.
Mr. Chitterwick blinked into the face of a small child.
"Man's insane, I guess," said Mr. Milton, pacing.
"Yes, but what about all this?" Mr. Goeblin looked horrified at the stationary people.
"I think I can tell you," Mr. Friden said. "Take a look, Captain."
The men crowded about a pamphlet which Mr. Friden had placed on the stool. ”

“ Mary held the ruler firmly and allowed the pen to travel down the metal edge effortlessly. The new black lines were small and accurate. She tipped her head, compared the notes beside her to the plan she was working on. She noticed the beautiful people looking at her more furtively than before, and she wondered about this as she made her lines.
A tall man rose from his desk in the rear of the office and walked down the aisle to Mary's table. He surveyed her work, allowing his eyes to travel cautiously from her face to the draft.
Mary looked around.
"Nice job," said the man. ”