Star Science Fiction No 4 by Frederik Pohl (ed)

Author:Frederik Pohl (ed)
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sci-Fi., Science Fiction, Anthology
Publisher: Ballantine Books
Published: 1958-10-31T16:00:00+00:00

* * * *

Dr. Byron appeared to pull himself together. He gazed at the psychiatrist coolly. “I presume my passport was sent to you because my efficiency is questioned?”

Dr. Krypton shook his head. “Reasons are never given. While I hold your passport, you are my patient. You will provide the reasons.”

“I could suggest a conspiracy.”

‘That would be tedious. Everyone does—even, on occasion, Co-ordinators Alpha. Fear temporarily decreases intelligence by perhaps twenty per cent.”

“Suppose I have no fear?”

Dr. Krypton sighed. “When a man no longer has fear, he is acutely unhappy. I invariably recommend prefrontal.”

Dr. Byron seemed suddenly to relax. He smiled. “As I am no longer afraid, I accept both your diagnosis and treatment, sir. When may I expect the operation?”

The psychiatrist became interested. Here, at least, was an unusual approach. Many of those whose passports reached Dr. Krypton anticipated his recommendation and prepared for it in various ways—some by opening an artery, and some by getting drunk. But here was one who seemed willing to short-circuit the entire analysis.

“You are in a hurry,” observed Dr. Krypton. “Why do you want your present personality to die?”

The younger man appeared to restrain himself from laughing. “Isn’t it already dead?”

“Demonstrably not”

“Then there is no time to lose. In the interests of communal stability, you should amputate it as soon as possible.”

“Why?”

“Because,” said Dr. Byron calmly, “it generates delusions.”

“Perhaps there is no future for anyone without them,” suggested Krypton in a dry voice.

Dr. Byron raised his eyebrows. “Do you say that officially?”

It was the psychiatrist’s turn to laugh. “Heresy has been permitted for the elite ever since the Christian Church began the fashion. Officially, I may find it necessary.”

Byron was silent for a moment. Then he spoke at great speed. “In the Country of the Blind, the one-eyed man is merely a psychotic. I am a psychotic, Dr. Krypton, because I do not share the reality of blindness. I am obsessed by the delusion of sight. I can see nothing but a slow disintegration in this stupid system of caste. On a planet that once supported three thousand million human beings there are now only ten million. They live in a couple of hundred hygienic Nova Mancunian. They do not procreate; they merely reproduce. I have discovered that there is a subtle difference. Has it occurred to you that in the last hundred years history has stopped? Nothing happens any more—nothing is lost and nothing is gained. All the Nova Mancunias everywhere are as dead and sterile as the lakes of the Hydrogen Wars. They are toy civilizations slowly runningdown. And there is no one to wind them up.”

“Except you,” said Krypton with sarcasm. “Why didn’t you find a Technician Beta Female, marry her, and sublimate these quixotic notions in an orderly domestic rhythm?”

“The classification of Technician Beta Female supersedes that of Woman,” returned Byron. “In any case, I have not found that any variation on the theme of mating is a permanent cure for ideals.”

“What do you define as ‘ideals’?”

“Irrelevancies,” said Byron, “such as truth, love, beauty.

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