"You'd never understand and I haven't time to tell you. What I want to
know is, who gave you the right to use my name in this silly Mother
America contest. And you," she turned on the Dee Lish agent, "quit
gawping at me. I'm not going to blast off. Who are you anyway?"
"Miss Manson, please!" The little man was in front of her again. "If the
reporters hear about this ..."
"Oh shut up, Harry! All right, Doctor, what's your excuse?"
George rallied and attacked. "I haven't any, Miss Manson. I didn't ask
for your name. It was submitted to me as a possibility from the Dee
Lish Company. You needn't worry, however. You are displaying adequate
reasons for me to disqualify your entry right now."
"Oh, an advertising stunt, is it? Harry, this is your idea ... you and
that pap purveyor!"
"But Gloria, think of the publicity ... the big parade with the man from
Mars! Why your play would run for years!"
"OK, I'll do it!" she said with a big smile and watched the ad-men's
gloomy faces change to astonished delight. "There's just one little
thing ... if I win!" She prodded Harry in the chest with a long stiff
finger.
"Yes, dear ... anything!"
"_YOU_ have the baby!" The scowl came back to her face. "You utter
idiots ... you misfired missiles! How in the Universe do you think I can
play a romantic lead wearing a maternity dress?"
George chuckled with delight at the thought and she turned on him.
"What's so funny, Doctor? And what do you mean I'm disqualified from the
contest? What's wrong with me?"
"Not a thing, Miss Manson." He grinned happily at her. "But if you can
stand having dinner with a man in an old-fashioned suit, I'll tell you
why Mother America should be a contented cow instead of a tantalizing
tigress."
"Hm, this is one orbit I haven't travelled." She smiled and nodded her
approval. "Set me a course, Navigator."
They moved towards the door together.
"Doctor! The program tonight ... have you forgotten?"
George looked back and waved airily. "Don't worry. I'll be there. And
we'll name the winner too!"
* * * * *
"Well now, Gloria, the dessert!" George was saying. "What'll it be,
crepes suzette?"
She smiled across the table. "Mm," she considered the menu carefully. "I
think I'll stick to good old American apple pie and cheese."
"A genuine American small town girl, with small town likes and dislikes!
That's what you are underneath the glamour. Aren't you?"
She laughed and raised her champagne glass. "And this is from the
home-town vineyard too?"
George leaned towards her, his face a little flushed with the wine.
"Gloria, with your ability as an actress we could play the biggest
practical joke in the history of colorvision. If only I dared!"
"What's your idea, George?"
"I'm sick of all this pseudo-scientific nonsense about genetics," he
said, "and I'm even sicker of the crass commercialism and political
propaganda surrounding this Mother America business."
"George, you surprise me more and more! I thought you did this for the
money and publicity, to say nothing of the great honor."
"Stop kidding, Gloria! You know I was ordered to do it by the
Department. All I get is an expense account from Dee Lish Baby Foods.
The thing that really bothers me is the type of winner I have to pick."
"Have to pick? You have free choice, don't you?"
"Not really. The people who watch that program, from the President on
down, including our Director too, expect a sweet wholesome type ... you
know, curvy in the right places like a Miss America but wouldn't think
of posing in a bathing suit. They want an adolescent dream girl type,
the kind that goes well with a rose-covered cottage and four
rosy-cheeked kids all waiting for Daddy to come home."
"But most women work in America today."
"I know but the dream remains, along with the cowboy, the daring Air
Force pilot, the self-made business tycoon and all the other romantic
stereotypes of the first half of the century. She makes togetherness
seem right, and God knows we have so many people today we're together
whether we like it or not. So that's the type I have to pick."
"Where does the joke come in?"
"If you'd play the part of the American dream girl you'd win that
contest going away, like a four stage rocket booster."
"But I don't want to have a baby by remote control."
"You wouldn't have to. You can always withdraw before the impregnation
ceremony."
"Suppose I do it, what's the point?"
"Well for one thing, you'd show how easily people are fooled by
appearances and smart propaganda. As a geneticist I can only go so far
and be honest. I can make sure you have good heredity; that you have no
obvious physical or mental defects; that your chance of having certain
disabling diseases are small; that your intelligence is high, and so on.
I can't really measure things such as initiative, wit, courage,
determination, all the things that make one human so much better than
another of equal physical and mental capacity."
"Educated people know that already."
"True, but it needs constant emphasis or it is forgotten under the
propaganda. Besides, I don't believe in mating people like cattle or
slaves. That's why this whole thing is a travesty of love and marriage.
I hate being used to give it a semblance of scientific authenticity. I'm
going to declare the top four contestants equal. They are, as far as I
am concerned, genetically speaking. The audience will decide the winner.
They'll love it and so will the sponsor. The other three are real
American dream girls. I want you to outsmart them at their own game ...
and tell America later what a farce it all was."
"You really are a romantic, underneath the cynicism," Gloria said
wonderingly. "I didn't think scientists were built with hearts any
more." She reached across and took his hand. "But I like you that way.
Do you think I could do it?"
"Easily. Just pretend you are Ellen the Earthling from that comedy of
yours. That's the type they want."
"Yes, but when I bow out later they'll be calling me Marina the Martian
Menace ... that won't be so funny."
"They won't, Gloria. You can laugh it off as a publicity stunt and get
them laughing with you. Who knows, it might even stop this mad fad of
career women having babies without a proper home and a father to raise
them."
She laughed. "Are you afraid you're going to be replaced by a machine,
George?" her eyes twinkled with amusement.