There was a large conference chamber on the twenty-ninth floor where
the directors of the world police had formerly met to discuss minor
peace infringements, hear complaints from various governments and
transact the multitudinous affairs when seven billion humans had
inhabited the planet.
Murals ran around the walls. A large T-shaped table, capable of seating
over a hundred, occupied the center of the room. And the acoustics were
so fine that a whisper could be heard distinctly from end to end.
Here the small party of explorers met immediately after dinner. They
were all there, except the four look-outs. Matt sat at the crossing of
the T, looking down the long table, with Captain Bascom on his left and
Isaac Trigg on his right.
The twenty-four Amazons, chained ankle to ankle, were ranged against
the back wall.
"Understand," said Isaac Trigg, his gray Van Dyke jerking angrily,
"we have a democracy in its purest form--not anarchism. Whatever the
decision of the majority is, it will hold for all of us!" And he bent
his gaze on Nesbit.
The palaeontologist looked sullen, Matt thought. His jaw was still
swollen and bruised. He sat about halfway down the table, gazing into
space.
"Before we take any steps about our--er--captives," Isaac went on,
"there are two things that should be made clear.
"In the present crisis, we need every hand we can get. If we are to
save any forms of carbon life at all--especially vegetation--there
isn't a moment to spare. This fort has to be converted into an airtight
island for our form of protoplasm, because, in weeks or months at the
longest, the alien protozoa will have made a desert of Earth!"
Matt heard a leg-band clank behind him in the silence. He twisted
around. Margot Drake was staring open mouthed at the director.
"It's not possible! You're lying!" she burst out in a throaty voice.
Isaac wheeled around.
"Lying? The chances are that all the normal bacterial organisms whether
in the water, soil or air have already been destroyed by the alien
amoebas! What do you think of that, young woman?"
Margot didn't say anything.
Isaac turned back to the table. "The second factor to be considered is
that these women are emotionally unbalanced."
There was a gasp of indrawn breath from his audience. He said, "Barb,
will you tell them of your findings?" and sat down.
Barb Poindexter, the psychiatrist, stood up slowly. She smoothed her
hands down her plump hips nervously.
"I have been examining the captives." Her voice gained in confidence
as she went on. "But, first, how many of you are not familiar with
Marties' law of equilibrium?"
At least half of them expressed their ignorance. "Then I'd better
explain it," she replied.
"Amiel Marties, who founded the school of mechanistic psychology,
formulated the law that whenever the equilibrium between life and death
is upset by war, famine, or pestilence, nature makes an effort to
restore the balance." She paused as several blank expressions still met
her eyes.
"In other words, when some catastrophe decimates the population, a
wave of seeming licentiousness grips everyone. Men and women appear to
be hurled into each other's arms by the force of their desires. It's
nature's attempt to restore life."
The psychologist's voice was very earnest. She talked, Matt thought, as
if she were reading a paper. As a plant biologist, he was familiar with
Marties' law of equilibrium.
"The catastrophe that depopulated the Earth is--is...." She groped
for an adjective, and gave up. "There's been nothing like it before.
Although we didn't witness the plague, we've been touched ourselves.
We lived together intimately for three years with no liaisons that I'm
aware of.
"But, when we return to find humanity destroyed, we become obsessed
with the necessity of producing children, restoring the equilibrium.
"These women"--she waved a plump hand toward the Amazons--"lived
through the plague. They don't realize it, but they are psychologically
twisted by that awful pestilence.
"Witness the fact that they have adopted every child that they could
find--and spoiled them and pampered them beyond reason. Witness their
squabble for men--and the rapidity with which they have abandoned
established morals and their former settled way of life.
"They are the product of a ravening nature trying desperately to
restore a status quo after a debacle, the magnitude of which has never
been rivaled in history.
"They aren't quite human!"
* * * * *
She stood there, looking searchingly up and down the table to see what
effect her words had had. After a moment she asked, "Are there any
questions?"
Matt, who believed in striking while the iron was hot, asked, "You can
substantiate this?"
"Marties' Law?" She replied in a puzzled voice. "There are volumes of
proof. Marties' own paper. '_The Law of Nature's Equilibrium._' It has
pages and pages of statistics ... the abnormal laxity of morals during
World Wars I and II ... the effect of the cholera plagues in Naples,
in...." She broke off. "Oh, I could cite examples the rest of the
night."
"So what?" came Nesbit's challenging voice like a sword-cut. Barb
turned to him as if facing a heckler, her face suffusing rosily with
anger. "If you're unable to see how dangerous these women are, you
should be psychoanalyzed yourself!"