Part 2

"I know you are terribly shocked," he resumed earnestly. "I was startled myself when the idea occurred. We've always thought progress meant bigness. The ideal man was six feet tall and all that. But it's bunk. Even when our standard of living was at record high, that ideal was still the exception. And since our time of trouble began, the average height has actually decreased by three inches."

Hackett was shaking his head.

"But dammit, you can't make 'em small all at once."

"No, it's a long haul and it will take all kinds of courage for Congress to pass the laws. But if we don't start now, soon it will be too late. Here is my plan:

"Some of us think the malnutrition and spreading disease are starting to stabilize the population at about one billion, which is still way too high. About fourteen million die each year; at present some fifteen million babies survive birth.

"I can't work it on children over two years old. By then they're too tall. But if we stop the growth, right now, of the thirty million in that age group, allowing for natural mortality, in twenty years we'll have over two hundred million small people--a fifth of our number. At least it will give us some elbow room to attack our miserable standard of living."

Still Hackett protested:

"It would be rough. Nobody wants to be peewees."

"I know, and there's another problem. At about age twenty, they'll be having their own kids. And midgets don't give birth to midgets. So we'd have to keep on with artificial dwarfing in perpetuity, except--"

Justin had reached the most delicate point.

"Well, I tackled it from another angle. What science has known for years is that it's the condition of the child in the womb during the first three months of pregnancy that regulates size. I developed a simple injection and diet, and I think the baby Doris delivers will be the answer."

Hackett sprang to his feet.

"You practiced on my niece? You cold-blooded louse!"

* * * * *

Justin held out a pleading hand.

"Please. I said it would take courage, more guts than the human race has ever known. But if my procedure succeeds with Doris, we'd adopt it as part of the normal pre-natal care for all prospective mothers. And in two generations anyone over three feet tall would be the exception."

Hackett was sneering.

"Has it occurred to the Great Nobel Mind that when we have finally be-littled ourselves, the foreign giants will move in and knock us off?"

"Yes, and it's also occurred to Austin. The obvious answer is that sheer size hasn't counted since the invention of firearms. My guess is when they see our returning health and prosperity, they'll be only too glad to join us."

* * * * *

Hackett gazed down toward the field. The girls, apple-cheeked and hair in disarray, had teamed against the muscular boys in a softball game. It had been a long time since he had seen such spirit and laughter. Heavily he asked:

"What d'ya want from me?"

Justin chose his words carefully:

"When Austin admits the Space failure, there will be a great wave of despondency. Then, when all hope seems lost, I am to go before Congress with this--new hope. Now I'd be damned naive to think Austin's strong enough to push it through by himself. But Congress would do it for you, and McPhail in Chicago and Harvey out on the Coast, and the rest of your crowd."

Mentally he ticked them off: Blake in Atlanta and Lipsky up in Alaska and Cabot in Boston ... the all-powerful clique of Strip City Bosses who actually ran the country.

"Of course," he pressed, "you'd have to reelect Austin as the only man who has the nerve to see the thing through."

Hackett grunted.

"That's just the trouble," he said.

* * * * *

Darkness had fallen when they started back. There was still no telling what Hackett was thinking. He sat stonily alone in the rear seat, a man in deep thought.

A bit before six, Justin switched on the radio. For a few moments an uninspired concert filled the car. Then:

"We again interrupt to repeat an important warning. Attention all personnel using Government vehicles! If you are in normal riot zones, abandon cars at once and proceed on foot. We repeat--"

Hackett stirred.

"Blast it, now what's up?"

Already the driver was slowing down. Hackett pressed his nose to the window.

"We're in Fort Lee. We're okay here, but we sure can't make it across the bridge. Dammit, we'll have to walk into town, but first let's hear the news."

Tires crunched on gravel as the car, lights dimmed, swung into a by-street and stopped in the shadow of a high wall.

"And now for our news report!

"Riots, the worst in thirty years, swept the nation late today in the wake of President Austin's stunning message to Congress. The Federal Building in St. Louis is burning. In the San Francisco Embarcadero thousands of rock-throwing hoodlums are fighting Federal troops. In Manhattan, mobs raided food depots.

"From Japan and India comes word that the President's message touched off a new wave of suicides....

"The message was brief and, in the view of his party's leaders, courageous. He told Congress he has ordered abandonment of the Moon stations. He also has ordered immediate dismantlement of all rocket-launching installations, the closing of rocket-building yards, and the complete cessation of all Space research. He has turned back to the General Treasury the last nineteen billion dollars earmarked for the Space Program. We give you this recording--"

President Austin's voice came on, precise, cool:

"My decision, believe me, was most difficult. The destruction of a long-cherished dream can never be easy. But within recent years, it has become increasingly clear to our leading scientists that man can never reach the stars.

"For better or worse, the ten billion of us humans who had hoped to find a solution for our population problems in Outer Space must remain chained to this old and tired planet.

"I say, it is old and tired. But let us remember, too, that for six thousand years of recorded history this Earth of ours has made a pretty good home. With Thomas Jefferson, I believe that our world belongs to the living and not to the dead. I do not, I will not, give up hope.

"Thank you and God bless you."

For a moment the silence in the car was insufferable. Then Hackett said gruffly:

"We'd best get out now."

* * * * *

Justin heard Doris' tortured sobbing long before he reached the top flight. Trying to hurry, his legs buckled. The long tramp across George Washington Bridge, the nine miles down the west face of Manhattan; the skirting of hysterical, shouting mobs; the senseless crushing to death of women under their feet ... no wonder he was exhausted.

And there was Austin's speech. At Times Square, the mob had hanged him in effigy and wrecked his campaign headquarters. It was there, in the red glare of a burning building, that Hackett reached his decision.

"Okay," he'd said. "I'm still sore as hell with Austin, but we'll go along. I'll call McPhail and the boys tomorrow. This is only providing, of course, that Doris turns out all right."

* * * * *

Justin reached his landing and swung into the corridor. Ahead, a door opened and the midwife flitted out.

Doris was shrieking now. It tore at his heart. As he reached his door, the shrieking stopped. Doris whimpered:

"It's a dwarf, I tell you! Oh Justin, how could you?"

Justin nodded at the midwife. Her answering nod was assuring.

"Rotten I'm late." He crossed to his table. From a drawer he procured a bottle, poured green fluid into a glass, stepped to the bed, held it to Doris' lips. Her eyes were wide and frightened.

"Drink," ordered Justin. "Drink, damn it, I love you."

Only when the sedative calmed her did he step to the basket and peer in. Slowly, and with pride and great tenderness, he smiled.

"He's perfect."

"But so tiny," whispered the midwife in awe. "It can't weigh a pound. Can it live?" Justin was grinning.

"It's a new creation," he said.

THE END