Part 2

The door swung back smoothly, stopping just short of the file cases, to admit the tall tweed-clad figure of the professor emeritus, who closed it gently, deliberately.

"Morning, Tim."

"Good morning, Jules." Daneshaw noticed the stranger and stood uncertainly just inside the door.

"I'd like to introduce Mr. Brill--Mr. Daneshaw."

Daneshaw's handshake was firm but gentle like his closing of the door. He moved to the maple armchair and sat, crossing his long legs, relaxed.

"Mr. Brill's got a great-aunt on the waiting list for Block Nineteen. He's here looking us over to see if we're fit company."

Mr. Daneshaw looked a question at the doctor, who continued, "Mr. Brill is in the insurance business. He's been telling me about one of their recent problems--whether or not to insure space crews and extraterrestrial colonists. On the _Colonia_, you know."

Daneshaw roused suddenly and turned an eager face to Brill. "That's a great thing! Never thought I'd see the day, though I was quite a science-fiction fan in my eighties and nineties. I've read everything I could lay my hands on about the _Colonia_. Do you really know who the colonists are going to be--or is that a secret between the United Assembly and the insurance companies?"

Brill looked pleased. This nice old boy realized the confidence of The Powers in The Company. "It hasn't been settled yet--may take months more the way they're wrangling. The Chinese don't want it to be the Dutch and the Dutch don't want the Brazilians. You know how it is. Myself, I think the government bit off more than it could chew, offering the first American built ship to whatever group the Assembly decided to send."

* * * * *

Dr. Farrar winced inwardly. A political discussion with Tim Daneshaw would certainly antagonize Brill if not exhaust him. "Who would you like to see go, Tim?" he veered the talk away from the errors of the present regime.

"I suppose farmers would be the first choice--big scale men with experience in hydroponics, from what I know of conditions on Venus."

"But the Assembly seems to be set against any group now economically favored," Brill offered the objection condescendingly, "and small farmers as a class have some sort of prejudice against any type of farming or scenery except what they grew up with."

"Well, speaking purely academically, Mr. Brill, I think the Assembly could do worse than send us."

"Us?"

"Us old duffers. Economically speaking, we're nobodies, our local ties are the weakest, we are of no particular value to anybody except Dr. Farrar here," he waved a hand, "and we're obviously of no political danger to the Chinese or the commists or the insulars either. We're not even a bloc. But of course we wouldn't please anybody especially as colonists, either. It's only an academic suggestion, you understand."

He grinned first at Brill, and at Farrar. "We couldn't put the good Jules out of a job, of course."

The intercom light flashed at the same moment that the door was flung open. Dr. Warner was half-way to the desk before he noticed the other visitors. He stopped abruptly.

"What is it, Doctor?" Dr. Farrar's voice was mildly reproachful. "Do you need me?"

"Excuse me, Doctor. The fleet is ready for the picnic and I thought you might have some last minute ... that is ... I didn't know what plans...." Dr. Warner mumbled, confused at finding a stranger in the office.

"This is Mr. Brill--Dr. Warner. Doctor, Mr. Brill's great-aunt is on our waiting list for Block Nineteen and he is concerned with our program and facilities here. Do you suppose you could take him with you on the picnic this morning?"

Jeremy Brill was startled. "I don't want to be any trouble, Doctor," he said apologetically to both doctors at once.

"No trouble at all, Mr. Brill," reassured Dr. Farrar. "You go with Dr. Warner here. He'll find a place in one of the limousines and you'll have a chance to talk to lots of the people your aunt would have to live with--make some judgment for yourself about all the items we were discussing. You can have Mr. Daneshaw's lunch on the picnic. He's staying here with me today."

Brill bowed his thanks to Daneshaw and Dr. Farrar and rose.

Jules Farrar turned to Dr. Warner. "Give them a good time, Bob. There aren't any special plans, but if you should happen to pass a circus, take the whole gang. Do you have plenty of money? This is on the hospital."

If Bob Warner had been alone with his chief he would have shouted, "A circus--ye gods!" but with Brill and Daneshaw both present he didn't even dare splutter. He nodded mechanically for Brill to precede him out the office door. Just before closing it after them, he stuck his head back into the office and enunciated with great care, "Thank you for the lovely treat, Doctor!" and was gone.

* * * * *

There was silence in the office for a few moments after the two had left.

Both men spoke at once. "Tim, have you heard...." "Two deaths, Jules."

Both were silent again. Neither looked at the other.

Dr. Farrar started again. "Why did it happen, Tim? What's the trouble up there? What have we done or not done?"

"They were bored and lonely and useless. Nothing you could have done, I'm afraid. Others feel the same way. There will have to be some smart talking at an Association meeting tonight to make them forget it."

Dr. Farrar looked keenly at the old man. "You too, Tim? Do you want to join Forsythe and Madame?"

Daneshaw looked straight at the doctor. "No, not me. That's why it will be hard for me to talk to them. I've been enjoying myself the whole time--sitting back, waiting and watching to see how our problems were going to be solved, indulging my curiosity about things, looking on with a rather Jovian amusement and tolerance to see how the young ones would have to learn how to deal with the old ones when they found out how many of us there were going to be. I thought I had all the time in the world to wait, so I've just been taking it easy and having quite a good time. It's really more my fault than yours."

"It's not your fault, Tim; I suppose it's mine. I thought that my studies would lose their validity if I stepped in and changed factors in your way of living. I totally ignored the changes involved in bringing you all here out of a normal life pattern with nothing but little diddling make-work substitutes to keep you busy."

"What would you call normal for us? We didn't even diddle before we came here."

"I should have remembered, though. I did a lot of work on the 'suicide period' between 60 and 70 seventeen years ago. There were only a couple hundred of the present Block Nineteener's and new ones coming all the time to keep things stirred up and interesting. I got so used to having things change up there every day that I never noticed when it began to bog down. It was my problem, Tim, and I ignored it."

"Ours, too, Jules. We ought to be responsible adults by now, capable of working out our own troubles." Daneshaw uncrossed his legs and sat forward. "But we aren't going to get anywhere sitting here worrying about which of us is to blame. We've got to cook up something more important than another kind of pet to keep or another bridge tournament. Wordsworth was evidently wrong. He should have written '_Not_ getting and _not_ spending we lay waste our powers.' We ought to be up to the ears in the work of a lifetime ... a very long lifetime." His lean hand brushed back unruly white locks.

Dr. Farrar shrugged his shoulders. "Any suggestions?"

"Whatever it is," argued Daneshaw, "it ought to be as important as ... as the _Colonia_ trip to Venus. It's certainly as vital as that, though of course having the Federal Government of the United Assembly messing with the problem would put off a solution indefinitely."

* * * * *

A look of wonder grew on the doctor's face. "The _Colonia_! A colony! How about that? The hospital has funds. We could buy a piece of land somewhere in the wilds of Brazil or even Canada and you could have a shot at frontier problems. That ought to be absorbing enough. And of course you could have help from government experts here if you ran into trouble. How about it?" he asked eagerly.

"It smacks of the county poor farm, though the idea of a colony is rather appealing. I hate to be a wet blanket, but the prospect of government experts seems like a continuation of the kindly but firm handling we get from the nurses here," and Tim Daneshaw smiled ruefully remembering Ione Phillips and how well she "handled" the subjects. "I'm afraid that unless we could get as far away from supervision as Venus we'd go right on feeling like a second thumb."

"Then go to Venus! On the first ship out." Jules sobered suddenly. "It would take an ungodly amount of finagling ... do you think they'd really go?"

"It would be worth asking them tonight." (There was no harm in joining in a flight of imagination, when a real solution might take years.) "And you know, we could be more of a nuisance to the government than you could ever be. We could threaten to commit suicide _en masse_ and blackmail the government into backing us for fear of one of those social breakdown investigations by the United Assembly, and we could fix the Assembly by threatening to flood the international publications with articles about the mental horrors of old age and break down the whole socialized medicine convention at the international level. It might be rather fun ... though completely unethical."

The doctor got up and came around to sit on the front of the desk. He was beaming. "Tim, we'll try it. I think I can get help from Brill. I'll tell you about it later. We've got to get right to work, though."

"We?"

"I can't pull it off alone," he paused, staring intently into Daneshaw's face. "I want you to go to the U. A. headquarters ... right now. Parker can take you to Des Moines in my copter and you'll get a rocket there. Miss Herrington will make your reservation. I want you to get all the stuff you can on number of passengers, agricultural projects, known difficulties of settlement on Venus--everything about the _Colonia_. And especially how to go about making application for the first group of colonists. I'll call Spence, the ranking medical officer of the U. A. We were friends in school. He can meet you and find out in advance who you should see. On the way you can work up something to tell the meeting tonight." Dr. Farrar seemed to see the plan growing in the air in front of him.

"That's quite an order for an old man--but it should be fun. What shall I tell the people I have to see why I want to know all this?"

"Tell them it's a secret ... Social Medical priority A four-ones. That'll get 'em interested and if they can find out somehow what it's all about by private investigation they'll be more likely to back us because they'll be in on what they think is top-secret."

"Smart, aren't you Jules." Tim got up and grasped his hand. "It'll be quite thrilling while it lasts. I feel pretty selfish, having all the fun to myself." He turned and strode to the door. "I'll go up and get a hat while the copter is coming--guess I don't even need a toothbrush."

"Tim," Dr. Farrar was hesitant, "do you have a pin-stripe tabarjak ... or anything like that?"

"Diplomat duds, you mean?" grinned the departing Daneshaw. "I've got a full set for Princeton reunions. I'll knock their eyes out."

* * * * *

It was hardly half past two when Jeremy Brill returned to the hospital. Dr. Farrar, returning from a belated lunch, found him fidgeting in the waiting room, making notes on a pocket pad. He rose quickly and followed the doctor into the inner office, carefully closing the door.

"I've heard enough, Doctor," he blurted out as he reached for the straight chair near the desk. "Enough to last a long time. They're sane, but what sanity! That Avery!"

"Have a little talk with Avery, did you?" inquired Dr. Farrar. He thought the two of them must have been well matched.

"First I heard all about the business of 'relax and save your energy forever'."

The doctor smiled. "Standard indoctrination for longevity subjects."

"Then he asked what I did. I told him a little about our work in The Company and that set him off! The man's a menace. He knows more about The Company than I do." Brill's suavity was quite gone. "And what a rugged tyrant he must have been. Positively treasonable in his attacks on governmental regulation. He believes in business for the businessman--thinks only people with capacity for handling high finance ought to run the country for the country's good. It was heresy--appalling!"

"I was rather of the opinion," commented the doctor, "that the views of your company ran something along the same line."

"Not at all, _not at all_! We believe firmly in the committee system and systematic regulation by elected agencies. There can be no grand-scale despotism in The Company! Why, our officers receive psychotesting every six months to assure the policy-holders that they have no personal power ambitions. I tell you, Doctor, that such men as Elbert Avery are a threat to our national democracy. He seems perfectly capable of going back into business at the drop of a hat. The Company may have to send a man to Washington to work out some sort of control to prevent such men from re-entering business."

Dr. Farrar looked thoughtful. "The control would be easy enough, but expensive," he remarked doubtfully.

"The good of the country is always expensive."

"What would you think of sending this whole group of social misfits out of the country?" Dr. Farrar could be cagey.

"Force, Doctor? We couldn't do that."

"But you'd like to see 'em go?"

"Frankly, yes."

"And if the government would take over the annuities, you'd feel even better?"

"That is too much for The Company to ask." Brill was resigned now, almost wistful.

Dr. Farrar settled himself back in his chair. "I have a plan, Mr. Brill; and perhaps you might be able to help me." (Brill sat forward.) "I would like to see Block Nineteen emptied completely--I would like to see its present occupants migrate to Venus on the _Colonia_. I don't think they'd ever come back. That would give your company several years to work out its new policy scheme and would remove what you call a dangerous menace to a safe distance. The next generation of Old Ones will be better schooled in ridding themselves of 'personal power ambition.' Do you think it could be done?"

"Perhaps," Brill was slow to hope. "The Company certainly has the organization to put it through. But you'd never get them to go. Why, Avery thinks the whole _Colonia_ enterprise is financially unsound. He says it's the duty of every thinking man to do all he can to stop such ruinous nonsense. Colonization _is_ expensive, but it is undoubtedly best for the people of the world!... But that old Avery doesn't give a hang for the Assembly's making a gift of Venus to the people."

"Avery would go like a shot rather than be left behind. And he's only one out of a thousand. You'd be willing to help?"

* * * * *

Brill hitched his chair even closer to the desk. "Just tell me first why you are so anxious to get rid of your entire observational group? Naturally The Company doesn't want to get mixed up in any personal animosities or anything unethical. Why do _you_ want to get rid of them, Doctor?"

"If I can trust you to keep this as quiet as your company's interest in moving them out?"

"Yes."

"To be quite frank, then, the subjects in Block Nineteen are getting restless. I don't think we could keep them here more than ten years longer, no matter how many diversions we tried. They want to do something, be something. And yet I don't believe they could be any more miserable than back in a world which has been growing away from them for a hundred years, a world which doesn't want or understand them any more than you want Avery in your company. So I'd naturally rather see them go all at once, wanting to go, than one at a time, confused and hopeless. None of them want to go back to their great-great-grandchildren to die. I'd like to see them stay together. As for my research, I'm only up to the Hundred-and-Ten group. Those in Block Nineteen are all over a hundred and fifty. Do you want to help ... or would you rather go to Washington to lobby for a bill to control Avery and others with even more ancient ideas before they get loose?"

"But old people are set in their ways, as you know, Doctor." Jeremy Brill had memorized the salesman's book. "The Company would naturally have to have some assurance that the old ones are willing to go before we put a lot of time and money into pushing their acceptance as colonists."

"I can let you know by midnight tonight," Dr. Farrar stated positively. "They're holding their monthly meeting and I can see that the matter is given full consideration."

Somewhere inside Dr. Farrar, the conspiratorial feeling was joined by a great jubilation. He wanted to shout aloud, but instead he added, "The officers of The Company will naturally want time to consider this fully, with care and deliberation. It is fortunate that you will have a good many hours in which to prepare a sound and compelling statement about the benefit to all humanity which will accrue to a project which will settle at once the great problem of a goal for old age as well as end the bitter wrangling among national and political groups for first passage on the _Colonia_.

"You are right. I must get back to the home office at once." Brill scribbled on a card. "Here is my private phone. Let me know at once what is decided at the meeting."

He rose, extending his hand. "You are a great man, Doctor, a truly great and kind man." He wheeled and walked abruptly from the office, the weight of a noble enterprise sitting comfortably on his shoulders. Miss Herrington caught a few of his departing words and the admiring tone. "One stone ... so many birds."

* * * * *

Jules Farrar's call to Jeremy Brill at 10:57 that night was necessarily brief. Mr. Daneshaw told him nothing of the wrangle with Avery and several others about the inevitable failure of any scheme so economically unsound as extraterrestrial colonization, nor did he tell the doctor that the number who wanted to go for the sake of going was considerably smaller than the number of those who would do anything that he, Tim Daneshaw, urged them to do. He reported only two things from the meeting: first, that they were willing to go on one condition; second, that the condition was that they were to be taught to man the _Colonia_ and that no younger "snippets" of officers, crew, and particularly medical and nursing staff should go along to hamper them. That was Avery's one victory.

In the three hours' talk about Daneshaw's trip to U. A. headquarters that followed the phone call, the excited doctor almost forgot to ask how the Block Association had taken the morning's deaths.

The old professor ran his hand through his white mane. "You know, Jules, I told them we'd discuss it after the other business and they never got around to it. Even if the trip doesn't come off, the crisis has been smoothed over for now. It's really rather shocking, isn't it?"

And yet, finally, incredibly, the trip really was to "come off." No one man knew more than a fraction of the details, though Jeremy Brill and his beloved Company turned out to be more of a force than even Dr. Farrar visioned in his most facetious dreams.

The doctor did have to be present at the U. A. loyalty tests, however, and would remember the rocking yet silent mirth of the entire commission to his dying day. The old people had been so outspoken, so set in their ways, but what a multitude of ways, that no bloc could be very seriously offended with them as a group. When little old Miss Severinghouse stated firmly, "I can't say as I trust anybody particularly, but President Wilson was a fine man," open-armed affectionate acceptance was assured. Laughter freshened the air; world tensions eased.

* * * * *

The months that followed were packed with unusual activity. Dr. Farrar, still at the helm of the Riston Physiological Observing Hospital, saw and heard little of it, beyond what he inferred from the questions of the newsreporters who were constantly trying to get beyond his office into the guarded privacy of Block Nineteen. He knew what assignments had been given to which of the "post-adults" (a newspaper phrase which had become universal). He knew, for instance, that Tim Daneshaw was at Annapolis with a number of others receiving advanced officer-training to prepare him for command. But he knew no details. He did not know how....

... Dr. Francis Keighley registered under an alias for a refresher course in the hospital that had borne his name for thirty-odd years. He smilingly declined special work in obstetrics and put down his name for epidemiology, parasitology and degenerative diseases as well as the usual surgery and internal medicine....

... Thorsten Veere, the pilot of the first moon-rocket, and Arthur Fisher, the designer of the _Colonia_, entered a formal objection to the United Assembly that the slower reflexes of the "post-adults" would make safe landing on Venus an improbability. They were told that they had exactly eleven months and three days to design and install a safe-and-sane mechanical-plus-radar landing device....

... Maeva McGaughey titrated deftly, dipping the straw-tinted flask behind the mask of the colorimeter and back with smiling approval. The old skill that had made her a master beautician was returning rapidly as she became a Pharmacist's Mate. She hummed softly, abstractedly, unaware of the absence of Miss Phillips' brisk voice saying, "Please stop that buzzing, Mrs. McGaughey. I'm sure I don't know how you expect the other ladies to get any rest with that noise going on...."

... Alice Kaplan was having two new dentures made at the clinic. The fluorine shortage in Stowe reservoir had not been known when she was a girl and the town had been too small for a dentist of its own. These would be good teeth with which to eat her own cooking. She had already helped the dietician of the hospital work out a more tasty substitute for the eternal creamed spinach for breakfast, though it was rather hampering to try to work up interesting meals with no carbohydrates and practically no animal fats. But she would use these new teeth on good beef-flour muffins and sharp cheese....

... Ole Sorensen put down the peck measure of mixed concentrates and began to toss forkfuls of fragrant alfalfa hay into the racks before the prize hospital herd. The muscles of his back and shoulders rippled as the fork swung and he moved rapidly down the line of gleaming white mangers. Between the windows behind him hung the placard filched from the Block Nineteen lobby, HASTE WASTES LIFE. Beneath this profound message was scrawled in black crayon, "Life without haste may be waste"....

... Joe Kolensky, second astrogator of the _Per Aspera_, whistled admiringly over the pages of calculations on the desk before him. That old gheez Avery had come up with another shortcut in Advanced Orbit Plotting. It was a legitimate shortcut, all right, but Joe had only come across it himself after two years of course work. Avery was almost twice as quick as that old Mr. White who used to teach math at Dayton Tech.

"Say, Bill," Joe raised his gaze from the paper and turned to his office-mate who was also checking classwork, "you know what Avery said today? When I tried to compliment him on yesterday's quadrangulations he glowered as if I'd insulted him and said, 'Young man, I was managing billions before jets were invented. Get on with orbits.' What a character...."