"Gabbier and more annoying," said Dr. Kalmar, but he didn't elaborate
and the man, with the courtesy of the frontier, did not pry for an
explanation.
Livestock and freight came down on one elevator and passengers came down
another. Slidewalks carried the cargo to Sterilization and travelers to
the greeting platform. Dr. Kalmar felt his shoulders droop. The man with
the medical bag had to be Dr. Hoyt and he was even more brisk, erect and
muscular than Dr. Kalmar had expected, with a superior and inquisitive
look that made the last assistant, unbearable as he'd been, seem as
tractable as one of the arriving cows.
Dr. Hoyt spotted him instantly and came striding over to grab his hand
in a grip like an ore-crusher. "You're Dr. Kalmar. Glad to know you. I'm
sure we'll get along fine together. Miserable trip. Had to change ships
four times to get here. Hope the food's better than shipboard slop. Got
a nice hospital to work in? Do I live in or out?"
Dr. Kalmar was grudgingly forced to say rapidly, "Right. Likewise. I
hope so. Too bad. Suits us. I think so. In."
He got Dr. Hoyt into a jetcab and told the driver to make time back to
the hospital. Appointments were piling up while he had to make the
courtesy trip out to the spaceport, which was another nuisance. Now he'd
have all of those and a talkative assistant who'd want to know the
reasons for everything.
"Pretty barren," said Dr. Hoyt, looking out the window at the
vegetationless ground below. "Why's that?"
He'd known he was going to Deneb, Dr. Kalmar thought angrily. The least
he could have done was read up on the place. _He_ had.
"It's an Earth-type planet," Dr. Kalmar said in a blunt voice, "except
that life never developed on it. We had to bring everything--benign germ
cultures, seed, animals, fish, insects--a whole ecology. Our farms are
close to the cities. Too wasteful of freight to move them out very far.
Another few centuries and we'll have a _real_ population, millions of
people instead of the 20,000 we have now in a couple of dozen
settlements around this world. Then we'll have the whole place a nice
shade of green."
"City boy myself," said Dr. Hoyt. "Hate the country. Hydroponics and
synthetic meat--that's the answer."
"For Earth. It'll be a long time before we get that crowded here on
Deneb."
"Deneb," the young doctor repeated, dissatisfied. "That's the name of
the star. You mean to tell me the planet has the same name?"
"Most solar systems have only one Earth-type planet. It saves a lot of
trouble to just call that planet Deneb, Vega or whatever."
"Is _that_ clutch of shacks the _city_?" exclaimed Dr. Hoyt.
"Denebia," said Dr. Kalmar, beginning to enjoy himself finally.
"Why, you could lose it in a suburb or Bosyorkdelphia!"
"That monstrosity that used to be New York, Pennsylvania, Connecticut,
Rhode Island and Massachusetts? I wouldn't want to."
He was pleased when Dr. Hoyt sank into stunned silence. If luck was with
him, that stupefaction might last the whole day. It seemed as though it
might, for the sight of the modest little hospital was too much for the
youngster who had just come from the mammoth health factories of Earth.
Dr. Hoyt revived somewhat when he saw the patients waiting in the
scantily furnished outer room, but Dr. Kalmar said, "Better get yourself
settled," and opened a door for his immature colleague.
"But there's only one bed in this room," Dr. Hoyt objected. "You must
have made a mistake."
Dr. Kalmar, recalling the crowded cubicles of Earth, gave out a proud
little dry laugh. "You're on Deneb now, boy. Here you'll have to get
used to spaciousness. We like elbow room."
The young doctor went in hesitantly, leaving the door open for a fast
escape in case an error had been made. Dr. Kalmar had done the same when
he'd arrived nine years ago. Judging by his own experience, it would
take Dr. Hoyt a full six months to get used to having a room all to
himself. There would be plenty of time to start showing him the ropes
tomorrow, and in the meantime there were the backed-up appointments to
be taken care of.
Dr. Kalmar went to his office and had his nurse, Miss Dupont, send in
the first patient.
It was a girl of 17, Avis Emery, who had been brought by her parents.
She sat sullenly, dark-haired, too daintily pretty and delicately
shapely for a frontier world like this, while Mr. Emery put the file
from Social Control on the doctor's desk.
"We're farmers--" the man began.
Dr. Kalmar interrupted, "The information is in the summary. Avis is to
be assigned her mate next year, but she wants to go to Earth and become
a nightclub singer. She refuses to marry a boy who'd be able to help
around the farm, and she won't work on it herself."
[Illustration]
He looked up severely at the parents. "This is your own fault, you know.
You pampered her. Farm labor is too valuable for pampering. We can't
afford it."
"You can blame me, Doc," said Mr. Emery miserably. "She's such a pretty
little thing--I couldn't work her the way Sue and I work ourselves."
"And then she started getting notions," Mrs. Emery added, giving her
husband a vicious glare. Dr. Kalmar could imagine the nights of argument
and accusation before they were at last forced to go for medical help to
solve their self-created problem. "Singing in nightclubs back on Earth,
marrying a billionaire, living in a sky yacht!"
"Avis," said Dr. Kalmar gently. "You know it's not that easy, don't you?
There are lots and lots of pretty girls on Earth and very few
billionaires. If you did get a job singing in a nightclub, you know
you'd have to do some unpleasant things because there's so much
competition for customers. Things like stripteasing, drinking at the
tables and going out with whoever the owner tells you to."
The girl's face grew animated for the first time. "Well, sure! Why do
you think I want to go?"
"And you don't love Deneb and your farm?"
"I hate both of them!"
"But you realize that we must have food. Doesn't it make you feel
important to grow more food so we can increase our population?"
"No! Why should I care? I want to go to Earth!"
Dr. Kalmar shook his head regretfully. He pushed a button on his desk.
It was connected to a gravity generator directly under the girl's chair.
Four gravities suddenly pushed her down into it and a hypodermic needle
jabbed her swiftly with a hypnotic drug. She slumped. He released the
button and the artificial gravity abated, but she remained dazed and
relaxed.
"You're not going to hurt her, are you, Doc?" Mr. Emery begged.
"Certainly not. But I suppose you know Social Control's orders."
They nodded, the husband gloomily, the wife with a single sharp jerk of
her head.
"You go right ahead and do it," she said. "I'm sick of working my
fingers to the bone while she primps and preens and talks all the time
about going to Earth."
"Come, Avis," Dr. Kalmar said in a low, commanding voice.
She stood up, blank-faced, and followed him out to the Ego Alter room.
He closed the door, sat her down in the insulated seat next to the
control console, put the wired plastic helmet on her and adjusted it to
fit her skull snugly.
Running his finger down the treatment sheet of her Social Control file,
he set the dials according to its instructions. The psychic areas to be
reduced were sex drive, competitiveness and imagination, while the areas
of reproductive urge and cooperation were to be intensified. He
regulated the individual timers and sent the varying charge through her
brain.
There was no reaction, no convulsion, no distortion of features. She sat
there as if nothing had happened, but her personality had changed as
completely as though she had been retrained from birth.
Miss Dupont came in without knocking. She knew, of course, that any
patient in the Ego Alter room would be incapable of being disturbed.
"Rephysical, Dr. Kalmar?" she asked.
"I'm afraid so. Will you prepare her, please?"
The nurse removed the girl's clothes. There was no resistance.
"Such a lovely body," she said. "It's a shame."
He shrugged. "Until we have enough people and farms and industries, Miss
Dupont, we'll just have to get used to altering people to fit the needs
of our society. I'm sure you understand that."
"Yes, but it still seems a shame. Bodies like that don't grow on trees."
[Illustration]
He gently moved the girl into the Rephysical Chamber. "They grow in this
machine, though. As soon as we can afford it, which ought to be only a
few hundred years from now, we can make any woman look like this, or
even better."
"And don't forget the men," Miss Dupont said as he started the
mitogenetic generator. "We could use some Adonises around here."
"We'll have them," he assured her.
"Somebody will. None of us'll live that long."
Working like a sculptor with a cathode in one hand and an anode in the
other, Dr. Kalmar began reshaping the girl who stood fixedly in the
boxlike chamber. The flesh fled from the cathode and chased after the
anode as he broadened the fine nose, thickened the mobile lips, squared
the slender jaw and drew out carefully the delicately arched orbital
ridges.
"I'll leave the curl in her hair," he said. "Every woman needs at least
one feature she can be proud of."
"You're telling me," Miss Dupont replied.
"Synthetic tissue, please."
She drew out a tube with a variable nozzle and started working just
ahead of him. A spray of high-velocity cells shot through the girl's
smooth skin at the neck, shoulders, breasts, hips and legs, forming
shapeless lumps that he guided into cords and muscles. The slim figure
quickly broadened, grew brawny and competent-looking, the body of a
woman who could breed phenomenally while farming alongside her man.
Dr. Kalmar racked up the instruments and helped Miss Dupont dress the
girl in coveralls and sandals. He felt the pride of craftsmanship when
he found that the clothing supplied for her by Social Control exactly
fitted her. He injected an antidote to the hypnotic and gave her the
standard test for emotional response as her expressionless face cleared
to placidity.
"Do you know where you are, Avis?"
"Yes. Ego Alter and Rephysical."
"What have we done to you?"
"Changed me to fit my environment."
"Do you resent being changed?"
"No." She paused and looked worried. "Who's taking care of the crops
while I'm here?"
"They can wait till you and your parents get back, Avis. Let's show them
the change, shall we?"
"All right," she said. "I think they'll be proud of me. This is how they
always wanted me to be."
"And you?"
"Oh, I feel much better. As if I don't have to try so hard."
[Illustration]
"I'm glad, Avis. Miss Dupont, better have a sedative ready when her
father sees her. I think he'll need it."
"And her mother?" asked the nurse practically.
"She'll probably want a drink to celebrate. Give her one."
* * * * *
Dr. Kalmar's prognosis was correct, only it didn't go far enough. His
young assistant from Earth had come scooting out of his disquietingly
large quarters and was jittering in the office when they entered.
"Is _that_ the pretty girl who was waiting when we came in?" he yelped
in outrage. "What have you done to her?"
Dr. Kalmar gave the sedative to him instead of Mr. Emery, who was
shocked, but had known in advance what to expect. Miss Dupont prepared
another sedative quickly, gave Mrs. Emery a celebration drink and moved
the family toward the door.
"She looks fine, Doctor," the mother said happily. "Avis ought to be a
big help around the house and farm from now on."
"I'm sure she will," he said.
"But she was so lovely!" wept Mr. Emery, though in a rapidly becalming
voice as the sedative took effect.
The door closed behind them.
"You ought to be reported to the Medical Association back on Earth!" Dr.
Hoyt said angrily. "Ruining a girl's looks like that!"
Dr. Kalmar sighed. He had hoped to be able to put off this orientation
lecture until the following day, when there wouldn't be so many patients
jamming his appointment book.
"All right, let's get it over with. First, I was also trained on Earth
and know how Ego Alter and Rephysical are used there: Ego Alter to
remove psychic blocks so people can compete better, and Rephysical so
they'll be more attractive. Second, we're not under the jurisdiction of
Earth's Medical Association. Third, we'd damn well better not be,
because our problems and solutions aren't the same at all."
"You'd have been jailed for spoiling that girl's chances of a good
marriage!"
"I didn't," Dr. Kalmar said quietly. "I improved them."
"You did nothing of the--" Dr. Hoyt stopped. "Improved? How?"
"I keep telling you this is a frontier world and you keep acting as if
you understand, but you don't. Look, a family is an economic liability
on Earth; it consumes without producing. That's why girls have so much
trouble finding husbands there. Out here it's different. A family is an
asset--if every member in it is willing to work."
"But a pretty girl like that can always get by."
"No Denebian can afford to marry a pretty girl. It's too risky. She
can't work as hard as we do and still take care of her looks. And he'd
worry about her constantly, which would cut into his efficiency. By
having me make her a merely attractive girl in a wholesome, hearty way,
Social Control guarantees more than just a marriage for her--it
guarantees a contented married life."
"Sweating away on a farm," Dr. Hoyt said.
"Now that her anti-social strivings are gone, she'll realize that Deneb
needs farmers instead of nightclub singers. She'll take pride in being a
good worker, she'll raise as many children as she'll be capable of
bearing, and she'll have a good husband and a prosperous farm. That
wouldn't have satisfied her before. It will now. And she's better for it
and so is Deneb."