Ritchie rose with him, smiling for the first time. "I'm glad you asked
that question, Collins. It's about time you did, you know. Everything
has been so carefully planned to keep you from asking it. But you
_were_ beginning to wonder just a bit anyway, weren't you?"
"I don't see what you're driving at."
"You don't see what anyone is driving at, Collins. You've been blinded
by a spectacular display of kindness, misdirected by self-indulgence.
I told you I knew everything I needed to know about you, and I do. Now
I'm going to ask you to remember these things for yourself; the things
you've avoided considering all this while.
"I'm going to ask you to remember that you're twenty-eight years old,
and that for almost seven years you were an agency man and a good one.
You worked hard, you did a conscientious job, you stayed in line,
obeyed the rules, never rebelled. Am I correct in my summary of the
situation?"
"Yes, I guess so."
"So what was your reward for all this unceasing effort and eternal
conformity? A one-room apartment and a one-week vacation, once a year.
Count your blessings, Collins. Am I right?"
"Right."
"Then what happened? Finally you flipped, didn't you? Tried to take a
header out of the window. You chucked your job, chucked your
responsibilities, chucked your future and attempted to chuck yourself
away. Am I still right?"
"Yes."
"Good enough. And now we come to the interesting part of the story.
Seven years of being a good little boy got you nothing but the promise
of present and future frustration. Seven seconds of madness, of
attempted self-destruction, brought you here. And as a reward for
bucking the system, the system itself has provided you with a life of
luxury and leisure--full permission to come and go as you please, live
in spacious ease, indulge in the gratification of every appetite, free
of responsibility or restraint. Is that true?"
"I suppose so."
"All right. Now, let me ask you the question you asked me. What's it
all about?"
Ritchie put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Tell me that, Collins. Why
do you suppose you've received such treatment? As long as you stayed
in line, nobody gave a damn for your comfort or welfare. Then, when
you committed the cardinal sin of our present-day society--when you
rebelled--everything was handed to you on a silver platter. Does that
make sense?"
"But it's therapy. Dr. Manschoff said--"
"Look, Collins. Millions of people flip every year. Millions more
attempt suicide. How many of them end up in a place like this?"
"They don't, though. That's just Naturalist propaganda. Dr. Manschoff
said--"
"_Dr. Manschoff said!_ I know what he said, all right. And you
believed him, because you wanted to believe him. You wanted the
reassurance he could offer you--the feeling of being unique and
important. So you didn't ask him any questions, you didn't ask any
questions of yourself. Such as why anybody would consider an
insignificant little agency man, without friends, family or
connections, worth the trouble of rehabilitating at all, let alone
amidst such elaborate and expensive surroundings. Why, men like you
are a dime a dozen these days--Vocational Apt can push a few buttons
and come up with half a million replacements to take over your job.
You aren't important to society, Collins. You aren't important to
anyone at all, besides yourself. And yet you got the red-carpet
treatment. It's about time somebody yanked that carpet out from under
you. What's it all about?"
Harry blinked. "Look here, I don't see why this is any of your
business. Besides, to tell the truth, I'm expecting--"
"I know who you're expecting, but I've already told you she won't be
here. Because she's expecting."
"What--?"
"It's high time you learned the facts of life, Collins. Yes, the
well-known facts of life--the ones about the birds and the bees, and
barefoot boys and blondes, too. Your little friend Sue is going to
have a souvenir."
"I don't believe it! I'm going to ask Dr. Manschoff."
"Sure you are. You'll ask Manschoff and he'll deny it. And so you'll
tell him about me. You'll say you met somebody in the woods
today--either a lunatic or a Naturalist spy who infiltrated here under
false pretenses. And Manschoff will reassure you. He'll reassure you
just long enough to get his hands on me. Then he'll take care of both
of us."
"Are you insinuating--"
"Hell, no! I'm _telling_ you!" Ritchie put his hand down suddenly, and
his voice calmed. "Ever wonder about those other two big buildings on
the premises here, Collins? Well, I can tell you about one of them,
because that's where I work. You might call it an experimental
laboratory if you like. Sometime later on I'll describe it to you. But
right now it's the other building that's important; the building with
the big chimney. That's a kind of an incinerator, Collins--a place
where the mistakes go up in smoke, at night, when there's nobody to
see. A place where you and I will go up in smoke, if you're fool
enough to tell Manschoff about this."
"You're lying."
"I wish to God I was, for both our sakes! But I can prove what I'm
saying. _You_ can prove it, for yourself."
"How?"
"Pretend this meeting never occurred. Pretend that you just spent the
afternoon here, waiting for a girl who never showed up. Then do
exactly what you would do under those circumstances. Go in to see Dr.
Manschoff and ask him where Sue is, tell him you were worried because
she'd promised to meet you and then didn't appear.
"I can tell you right now what he'll tell you. He'll say that Sue has
been transferred to another treatment center, that she knew about it
for several weeks but didn't want to upset you with the news of her
departure. So she decided to just slip away. And Manschoff will tell
you not to be unhappy. It just so happens that he knows of another
nurse who has had her eye on you--a very pretty little brunette named
Myrna. In fact, if you go down to the river tomorrow, you'll find her
waiting for you there."
"What if I refuse?"
Ritchie shrugged. "Why should you refuse? It's all fun and games,
isn't it? Up to now you haven't asked any questions about what was
going on, and it would look very strange if you started at this late
date. I strongly advise you to cooperate. If not, everything is likely
to--quite literally--go up in smoke."
Harry Collins frowned. "All right, suppose I do what you say, and
Manschoff gives me the answers you predict. This still doesn't prove
that he'd be lying or that you're telling me the truth."
"Wouldn't it indicate as much, though?"
"Perhaps. But on the other hand, it could merely mean that you know
Sue _has_ been transferred, and that Dr. Manschoff intends to turn me
over to a substitute. It doesn't necessarily imply anything sinister."
"In other words, you're insisting on a clincher, is that it?"
"Yes."
"All right." Ritchie sighed heavily. "You asked for it." He reached
into the left-hand upper pocket of the gray uniform and brought out a
small, stiff square of glossy paper.
"What's that?" Harry asked. He reached for the paper, but Ritchie drew
his hand back.
"Look at it over my shoulder," he said. "I don't want any
fingerprints. Hell of a risky business just smuggling it out of the
files--no telling how well they check up on this material."
* * * * *
Harry circled behind the smaller man. He squinted down. "Hard to
read."
"Sure. It's a photostat. I made it myself, this morning; that's my
department. Read carefully now. You'll see it's a transcript of the
lab report. Susan Pulver, that's her name, isn't it? After due
examination and upon completion of preliminary tests, hereby found to
be in the second month of pregnancy. Putative father, Harry
Collins--that's you, see your name? And here's the rest of the
record."
"Yes, let me see it. What's all this about inoculation series? And who
is this Dr. Leffingwell?" Harry bent closer, but Ritchie closed his
hand around the photostat and pocketed it again.
"Never mind that, now. I'll tell you later. The important thing is, do
you believe me?"
"I believe Sue is pregnant, yes."
"That's enough. Enough for you to do what I've asked you to. Go to
Manschoff and make inquiries. See what he tells you. Don't make a
scene, and for God's sake don't mention my name. Just confirm my story
for yourself. Then I'll give you further details."
"But when will I see you?"
"Tomorrow afternoon, if you like. Right here."
"You said he'd be sending another girl--"
Ritchie nodded. "So I did. And so he'll say. I suggest you beg to be
excused for the moment. Tell him it will take a while for you to get
over the shock of losing Sue this way."
"I won't be lying," Harry murmured.
"I know. And I'm sorry. Believe me, I am." Ritchie sighed again. "But
you'll just have to trust me from now on."
"Trust you? When you haven't even explained what this is all about?"
"You've had your shock-therapy for today. Come back for another
treatment tomorrow."
And then Ritchie was gone, the gray uniform melting away into the gray
shadows of the shrubbery above the bank.
A short time later, Harry made his own way back to the center in the
gathering twilight. The dusk was gray, too. Everything seemed gray
now.
So was Harry Collins' face, when he emerged from his interview with
Dr. Manschoff that evening. And it was still pallid the next afternoon
when he came down to the river bank and waited for Ritchie to
reappear.
The little man emerged from the bushes. He stared at Harry's drawn
countenance and nodded slowly.
"I was right, eh?" he muttered.
"It looks that way. But I can't understand what's going on. If this
isn't just a treatment center, if they're not really interested in my
welfare, then what am I doing here?"
"You're taking part in an experiment. This, my friend, is a
laboratory. And you are a nice, healthy guinea pig."
"But that doesn't make sense. I haven't been experimented on. They've
let me do as I please."
"Exactly. And what do guinea pigs excel at? _Breeding._"
"You mean this whole thing was rigged up just so that Sue and I
would--?"
"Please, let's not be so egocentric, shall we? After all, you're not
the _only_ male patient in this place. There are a dozen others
wandering around loose. Some of them have their favorite caves, others
have discovered little bypaths, but all of them seem to have located
ideal trysting-places. Whereupon, of course, the volunteer nurses have
located _them_."
"Are you telling me the same situation exists with each of the
others?"
"Isn't it fairly obvious? You've shown no inclination to become
friendly with the rest of the patients here, and none of them have
made any overtures to you. That's because everyone has his own little
secret, his own private arrangement. And so all of you go around
fooling everybody else, and all of you are being fooled. I'll give
credit to Manschoff and his staff on that point--he's certainly
mastered the principles of practical psychology."
"But you talked about breeding. With our present overpopulation
problem, why in the world do they deliberately encourage the birth of
more children?"
"Very well put. 'Why in the world' indeed! In order to answer that,
you'd better take a good look at the world."
Arnold Ritchie seated himself on the grass, pulled out a pipe, and
then replaced it hastily. "Better not smoke," he murmured. "Be awkward
if we attracted any attention and were found together."
* * * * *