When I awoke it was late in the morning and my imagination still,
confused, listened for the warring jangle of the noises of New York. I
sat up, stared about me and realization returned. Whether on account
of the chemical infusion or the charge of electricity, I found the
air more delicious than any I had yet breathed. I awoke refreshed and
with an extraordinary sense of well being and following Acquilla’s
directions, touched a button at my bedside. Almost immediately the
languor of the atmosphere changed to an invigorating glow. I rose and
started to examine my surroundings when the voice of Acquilla said:
“Good morning, Bogardus. I hope you have rested well.”
I turned hastily, snatching a dressing robe about me, with that
instinctive modesty which is so difficult for a man to forget. To my
amazement the room was empty, though the voice continued. “I have
been called to a special meeting of the Population Council in New
Orleans and won’t be back until late. However, the housekeeper has her
instructions and you will find the library and the astronomical parlor
enough to interest you until my return.”
Following the direction of the voice I discovered a minute disk in the
wall. The mystery was after all only a commonplace. Acquilla had used
a dictaphone which had probably been automatically released when I had
changed the temperature.
There were no windows in the room but the glass walls, due no doubt to
some infiltrating lighting control were now so transparent that I had a
clear view of the scenery for miles about. Due to the present height of
the New York mesa I could discern not only the Sound and the entire bay
of New York but far down the Atlantic coast--an incomparable spectacle.
From where I was, down to the old Battery, there were magnificent
villas glittering in coats of many colors through the vistas of noble
parks. Immense pylons stretched up into the sky, either the gigantic
weather transformers I had seen or colossal plants for transmitting
energy. Aeroplanes flashed against the blue like the migrations of
swiftly moving birds or floated nearby like lazy clusters of poising
butterflies. The speed of some of the larger ones held me fascinated.
I judged rightly that they were huge transatlantic carriers for the
projectile-like speed of their streaking across the sky was like the
path of a shooting star across the night.
I was in the midst of these observations when Mag the housekeeper
entered to receive my orders. I tried to explain to her unsuccessfully
my need of a razor, but after witnessing the bewilderment on her face
gave up the attempt.
When I ran my hand expressively over the blue stubble on my cheeks her
curiosity and amazement knew no bounds.
“But don’t men have mustaches or beards?” I exclaimed with a full
portraying gesture.
“Goats have hair on their faces like that, not men,” she replied,
opening her eyes.
I looked at her sharply but remembering that a sense of humor had
evidently departed with the descent of my sex, I said:
“Very well, I shall raise a beard if only to show the modern woman what
magnificent creatures men once were.”
“You are indeed curiously beautiful, Bogardus,” she said in a low
voice, casting down her glance. “And your voice is so deep and your
body is so strong for a man!”
Though Mag was square and built like a blacksmith, I confess this
humble admiration was inspiring to me and opened agreeable vistas for
the future.
“What does Acquilla wish me to do this morning?” I asked.
“She has sent the famous Gallia to treat your body after the bath.”
“Gallia? Who is Gallia? A masseuse?”
“Gallia is the great Æsthete who discovered the new method of tissue
preservation. If you will come down to the bath now I will inform her.”
I nodded, dismissed her and presently descended.
Gallia, like the generality of her caste, was a brunette, with black
olive-shaped eyes and a delicate, slightly acquiline nose. She came
forward graceful and fragrant, and putting her arms about me embraced
me cordially, a greeting which I later discovered had replaced the
crude handshake of our male civilization.
“What a magnificent specimen you are, Bogardus,” she said, looking
me over with the glance of a connoisseur. “Really, when we see what
demigods men once were, it is a disgrace to reflect on how we have let
your sex deteriorate.”
“Good,” I said somewhat embarrassed at her frank admiration. “At least
you do not share the common prejudice.”
“There are, of course, dominant reasons for our present social state
from a political and philosophic point of view,” Gallia replied with
a precautionary glance at Mag. “But looking at the matter purely from
the science of eugenics, I maintain that for the proper breeding of the
superlative female, it is necessary to regenerate the mental capacities
and initiatives of the male. Besides, men educated by women will
possess totally different characteristics.”
“Is there a party then that holds with you?” I said eagerly.
“Yes, but we are in the minority.”
“But minorities are always the most powerful elements politically. It
was a minority that brought about woman suffrage in my day.”
“Later,” she replied, frowning significantly in the direction of the
housekeeper, “it will be interesting to learn by what methods. At
present I have a duty in the interests of science, to determine what
effect your long preservation may have had on the glandular and nervous
system. You see, Bogardus, the principles of frigiferous arrestation
of life have only been tested by short periods of from fifty to sixty
years. Your arrival is of course quite the most important scientific
event that has occurred.”
I divined from her manner that political questions had to be treated
with discretion, and so postponed until later the many questions which
occurred to me as to the status of my sex. We entered a laboratory
directly above the bath where I was subjected to a series of tests
which resembled the metabolism examination of my day.
“Everything is normal,” said Gallia delighted. “I can find no
disturbance whatsoever. In fact for a man of sixty--”
“Sixty. I am exactly thirty-two if you please.”
Gallia looked at me a moment with a perplexity that suddenly lifted.
“True, I forget. You come from an age when the glandular secrets of
youth were still a closed book. That is the reason for my mistake. You
see we begin invigoration treatments immediately at the completion of
the body growth--that is about the age of twenty. In your case, I shall
have to treat you intensively. It will be most interesting. I shall
work out the nutrition formulas and the chemistry of the air you must
have at night. Meanwhile the ordinary daily regime will work wonders.”
“Gallia, I am curious to know to what extent you have been able to
prolong life.”
“We have still to submit to the tests of experience,” she replied.
“We have it is true only begun our exploration, and today there are
only a few living who have reached the age of a hundred and seventy.
Theoretically, there is no reason why we cannot with our present
knowledge extend life to four or five centuries. We have eliminated
the ravages of such diseases as tuberculosis and cancer, pneumonia and
paralysis, but to be strictly scientific, we may have to encounter new
types of diseases which will have to be studied and conquered.”
“Then there are persons who actually wish to live two hundred and three
hundred years in this world?”
“That is the trouble. You see with the perfection of the Frigidrome,
particularly with the proof of its efficacy which you have supplied,
Bogardus, there will be an overwhelming demand to be translated from
century to century.”
“A most natural curiosity, I should say.”
“Exactly. But until we can supply the demand, you realize that it is a
privilege that has to be restricted. It is now an honor conferred for
distinguished services.”
“Then I may hope for another voyage into the future in as favorable a
state as the present.”
“Nothing easier, if you respond as I am sure you will to our treatment.”
“Proceed then, Gallia. You will never have a more obedient patient.”
She smiled at me the flitting Latin smile that is reflected in the eyes
and, Mag being absent, embraced me with a warmth that was more than
professional, and which I confess I returned with such interest that
she gave a little gasp of pleasure.
“Oh! That is not at all like a man!” She gave me a long, veiled glance
and added, “Really, your case is so important I shall have to treat it
personally.”
For two most agreeable hours I received a treatment under Gallia’s
directions, which consisted of an immersion in a chemical bath, a
massage with some violet ray machine and the application of delicious
unguents which left my skin aglow and sensitively alive. From Gallia
I learned that the day of every woman began at five o’clock with two
hours devotion to this meticulous care of the body, as the first
obligation of a civilized state. No woman, it appeared, ever took more
than four hours sleep, except in the nascent and child-bearing periods.
Sleep, to the extent in which we indulged ourselves, was an excess as
injurious as drunkenness or gluttony. All that Gallia had to say struck
me as of exceeding good sense, and I promised to follow rigorously her
precepts.
After her departure breakfast was served while I reclined on a divan.
The repast consisted of a variety of fruits; a syrup formed on the
basis of honey but not so oppressively saccharine; coffee, which had
a vintage of twenty years and a light breakfast food which was a
mélange of different vitamins exceedingly pleasant and appetizing. I
complimented Mag, but expressed a masculine desire to indulge in the
morning newspaper.
“Or has the newspaper been abolished as a male distraction?” I asked
facetiously.
“Oh, no. The news came in, hours ago.”
“Bring it to me, then.”
Mag returned with a record about the size of an ordinary spool and
placed it in a small receptacle, explaining that the broadcasting from
the central station was recorded on these disks which could be turned
on later at will.
I found as I had expected that the circumstances of my arrival
occupied the place of honor. But what astonished me was to discover
that the gist of my inquiries and the long explanations of Acquilla
the night before were rendered with an amazing fidelity. I surmised
that by some hidden recording device every word of our conversation
had been transmitted. The portrait given of me was flattering, though
certain liberties were taken with the amazement and admiration I had
displayed for the marvels of the new civilization. But this I put down
to the editorial tradition of local pride. The news of the day was
given briefly without the embellishments to which we are accustomed;
important discoveries in the social organization of Arcturus III
made possible by the micro-photostatic enlargement of astronomical
records; the launching of a new luminous fringe in the Paris fashions;
the meeting of the Population Council in New Orleans to deal with an
unforeseen outcrop of twins; the opening of the new Frigidrome in
the tunnelled vaults of the Palisades, capable of accommodating a
thousand new inmates, etc. There were talks on health, a description
of a new symphony, the arrival of a hundred Scandinavian males and the
excitement caused by their striking personal appearance. All this,
while interesting, left me with a feeling of depression.
I called Mag and said:
“But isn’t there a man’s section; a sport page, you know? You don’t
understand? Don’t men play football or baseball or golf or tennis?
Isn’t there a world’s heavyweight champion?”
“Yes, yes. I understand,” Mag replied vaguely. “Run-jump, you mean.”
“Exactly. Run, jump, swim, you know.”
“Oh yes, I know! Men run, men jump and they dance, oh, beautifully!”
I gave a gesture of discouragement.
“You make me fear the worst,” I said dejectedly. I rose. “Never mind.
I’ll visit the grounds for a little walk and then return to the
library.”
When I stepped out onto the broad lawn a machinot was cutting the
grass, seated on an electric machine which he guided so deftly that I
watched entranced the mathematical inevitability of his movements.
Here again unwillingly I have to admit the fertility of the feminine
imagination. Truly the vanity of man could only create gods or
automatons in his own image. It may be debatable whether two legs are
not sufficient, but certainly any knowledge of the marvels of the
insect world should have convinced us of the utter inadequacy of two
hands. Not only were the machinots supplied with numerous antennae,
but instead of the restricted human orbit of vision they were supplied
with the myriad faceted eyes of the bee, which communicated to their
intricate mechanism what we lack--a complete vision. While I was
watching, one of the machinots in crossing the lawn evidently ran
down, for it came to a complete stop, sending out a radio call to the
head mechanic. Another machinot operating a lawnmower arrived within
ten feet of the obstruction, stopped, turned out and as deliberately
readjusted itself to its appointed path!
Other automatons were spraying the orchards, and running cultivators
through the flower gardens. What cultivation of the soil was done was
evidently only of an ornamental nature. Vegetables and cereals for the
table were raised elsewhere, for no home cooking was necessary, with
their thermostatic devices and their central cooking stations.
The servants’ quarters (all were women, including the gardener and
the mechanic) were behind a thicket about a quarter of a mile from
the house and constructed on a curious principle. At first glance it
resembled a circus tent and on closer inspection I found the analogy
more striking. The entire house was suspended by cables from a central
pole or tower, about twenty feet in diameter, which beside an elevator,
contained heating, lighting and air circulating equipments. The ground
floor was given over to a garage for the aeromats. On the second floor
were three large bedrooms and a bath, a laboratory and a large living
room or theatre. Above was a sheltered open roof banked with flowers,
very pleasant and comfortable. The curious thing about these houses,
which I found, later, were manufactured in a standardized form, was
that they were designed to be lifted from their sockets and transported
by aeroplanes to any distance and again set up with only the necessity
of providing an emplacement, thus obviating the necessity of separate
summer and winter homes.
I was in the midst of these investigations when Mag informed me that I
was wanted on the radio. The way she conveyed the message with a sort
of sly impertinence, convinced me that it could not be Acquilla. I
returned to the house greatly intrigued. Who could it be? A reporter
seeking an interview? An offer for a vaudeville engagement? A moving
picture contract? Or simply an invitation from the Sons of some Native
State to be the speaker of honor at their annual banquet.
“How ridiculous,” I thought suddenly. “All such things are vanished
with the age of publicity. Or have they?”
I went into the television chamber and found myself looking into the
troubling eyes of the charming Dianne.