Jerry Shelton

“ Danton Marko, the inventor of the Predictograph, proved that two centuries ago when he diagnosed his own future and went hopelessly insane in three weeks."
The voice boomed suddenly like the clang of metal upon metal, and gathered itself into a rising crescendo of sound.
"Mankind has enjoyed peace for two centuries. The peace has proven that the Galactic Federation is right in compelling each human to submit, at the proper age of his development, to a Predictable Life-Line diagnosis. ”

“ Craig remembered how Praggor had mounted the platform a Younger and stepped down a Doctor, P.L.L. Like himself, minutes later. Eleven years ago. Eleven years of stepping aside and permitting men and women to walk blindly ahead to their doom. Eleven years of lies. Of cheating himself of his own self-respect.
These were some of the reasons he had decided to break his oath! He would make himself a guinea-pig. He would have his own future diagnosed in a way that he would know beyond the shadow of a doubt if he could actually change his own Predictable Life-Lines. ”

“ The irony of what his professional voice was saying to this little fat man burned another scar into his heart. The Predictograph had predicted this man would be dead within three weeks—and that wondrous, complex machine never erred. Yet, because of "Medical Ethics," he heard himself giving this innocent patient the old conversation, professionally used in such unhappy cases: "—everything is all right—" and, "your Life-Lines show a happy future—" and, "—you will be successful—" and, "—happy—" and, "—you should relax and enjoy yourself now that you have your future Life-Lines completed." ”

“ He remembered the silver-haired speaker, the head doctor whose name he couldn't even recall, walking to the center of the raised platform adjusting his glasses.
"Youngers, I congratulate you. You are about to receive the degree of P.L.L., the most sacred degree ever intrusted to man! The road behind you has been mind-racking. But now you hold in your brains the ability to determine the Predictable Life-Lines of any patient who, having received his order from the Galactic Federation when they have decided his life lines are necessary, will come to you for his diagnosis. ”

“ If a human is forced to have a Life-Line made and his future indicates he is going to try to breed trouble and unrest, he must be executed. This fact will naturally show up in his diagnosis, which immediately must be filed with the Galactic Federation. Therefore, are you, as a doctor of P.L.L., responsible for the man's death, since you revealed he would cause trouble? ”

“ But you have your sacred trust and obligation to file with the Council and Federation all Life-Lines you diagnose.
"Mankind has had no war for centuries. But mankind's massed life force and intelligence is a terrible, powerful blind energy that could wreck the entire Universe if it were not guided and controlled into the proper channels. ”

“ This was a diagnosis like telling futures with tea-leaves and palm-reading, when he wanted to know! And now Praggor was giving him the old stuff about: "—you'll take a nice long trip—" and "make money—nothing to worry about—celebrate—" and the chuckles about, "—a beautiful blond with long legs—"
Praggor wasn't telling him the truth! There never would be a blond with long legs. All he wanted was Freckle-nose. Praggor was lying to him! The thought rose up monstrous in his mind. Good heavens! What did it mean?
"I'll send these charts to Doctor Jules Craig tonight," Praggor was saying. ”

“ You have fulfilled the Galactic Federation requirements by completing your Predictable Life-Lines and you are entitled to throw a real party."
He forced the professional twinkle into his eyes.
"Of course the Predictograph hinted you will have a super-hangover—after your party."
As the little fat man's tension broke and he began to chuckle, Craig nodded.
"You know the machine can't pick up small sensory lines like hangovers," Dr. Craig said. "We can learn only the major facts of your future with the usual possible ten-percent error of course." ”

“ He shook his head, switched off the light and mashed the life out of the tasteless cigarette.
Miss Evans pressed her lips together. "Electro-Transport just sent over your reservation. Your passage is arranged at Grand Terminus, through Booth Two-Seventeen. You'll be transmitted at Hour Eleven Hundred. Here is your ticket. I got you a round trip." Her voice, usually so impersonal, trembled on the last word. "Can I do anything else, Doctor Craig? Your face is so pale."
"Everything's fine," he mumbled. "After I leave, I want you to check on that last patient. ”

“ It has a built-in principle guarding against that unfortunate possibility should you ever try to violate your oath.
"We have never tried to foretell your futures for you, since once you have worn the Crystaleen amplifier-recorder cell necessary for a Life-Line diagnosis for the required three months, the Supreme Medical Council has decided it upsets the delicate attunement of a Doctor of P.L.L. to his own Predictograph, upsets it to a degree which interferes with accurate diagnosis.
"It is unwise for any man to know his own exact future. ”

“ He extended his hand. "Good-by! Speak to my secretary, Miss Evans, on your way out about the balance on your account. And congratulations."
The door closed behind the patient. Craig's head dropped. One more hopeless case he had lied to. He sat motionless at his desk. He let the lids close over his eyes, as his broad forehead wrinkled with conflicting thoughts. Unpleasant thoughts.
The Predictograph never missed! For the trained operator like himself, it picked up everything down to the slightest detail. ”

“ You will see in his charts that from some unknown phobia buried in his own mind that this man is going quickly insane, and in his insanity will unknowingly commit three horrible murders before he is apprehended and executed. ”

“ It is a puzzling question, Youngers. The same as which was first—the chicken or the egg? There are things concerning the phenomena we deal with which we do not understand as fully as we some day hope to. ”