Part 7 (2/2)

”Well, they can't stand the pressures of daily living, or the prospects of a future when we'll be still more hemmed in.”

Ritchie nodded. ”Any more than you could, a few months ago, when you tried to commit suicide. Wouldn't you say that _you_ were thinking like a Naturalist then?”

Harry grimaced. ”I suppose so.”

”Don't feel ashamed. You saw the situation clearly, just as the so-called Naturalists do. And just as the government does. Only the government can't dare admit it--hence the secrecy behind this project.”

”A hush-hush government plan to stimulate further breeding? I still don't see--”

”Look at the world,” Ritchie repeated. ”Look at it realistically.

What's the situation at present? Population close to six billion, and rising fast. There was a leveling-off period in the Sixties, and then it started to climb again. No wars, no disease to cut it down. The development of synthetic foods, the use of algae and fungi, rules out famine as a limiting factor. Increased harnessing of atomic power has done away with widespread poverty, so there's no economic deterrent to propagation. Neither church nor state dares set up a legal prohibition. So here we are, at the millennium. In place of international tension we've subst.i.tuted internal tension. In place of thermonuclear explosion, we have a population explosion.”

”You make it look pretty grim.”

”I'm just talking about today. What happens ten years from now, when we hit a population-level of ten billion? What happens when we reach twenty billion, fifty billion, a hundred? Don't talk to me about more subst.i.tutes, more synthetics, new ways of conserving top-soil. There just isn't going to be _room_ for everyone!”

”Then what's the answer?”

”That's what the government wants to know. Believe me, they've done a lot of searching; most of it _sub rosa_. And then along came this man Leffingwell, with _his_ solution. That's just what it is, of course--an endocrinological solution, for direct injection.”

”Leffingwell? The Dr. Leffingwell whose name was on that photostat?

What's he got to do with all this?”

”He's boss of this project,” Ritchie said. ”He's the one who persuaded them to set up a breeding-center. You're _his_ guinea pig.”

”But why all the secrecy?”

”That's what I wanted to know. That's why I scurried around, pulled strings to get a lab technician's job here. It wasn't easy, believe me. The whole deal is being kept strictly under wraps until Leffingwell's experiments prove out. They realized right away that it would be fatal to use volunteers for the experiments--they'd be bound to talk, there'd be leaks. And of course, they antic.i.p.ated some awkward results at first, until the technique is refined and perfected. Well, they were right on that score. I've seen some of their failures.” Ritchie shuddered. ”Any volunteer--any military man, government employee or even a so-called dedicated scientist who broke away would spread enough rumors about what was going on to kill the entire project. That's why they decided to use mental patients for subjects. G.o.d knows, they had millions to choose from, but they were very particular. You're a rare specimen, Collins.”

”How so?”

”Because you happen to fit all their specifications. You're young, in good physical condition. Unlike ninety percent of the population, you don't even wear contact lenses, do you? And your aberration was temporary, easily removed by removing you from the tension-sources which created it. You have no family ties, no close friends, to question your absence. That's why you were chosen--one of the two hundred.”

”Two hundred? But there's only a dozen others here now.”

”A dozen males, yes. You're forgetting the females. Must be about fifty or sixty in the other building.”

”But if you're talking about someone like Sue, she's a nurse--”

Ritchie shook his head. ”That's what she was _told_ to say. Actually, she's a patient, too. They're all patients. Twelve men and sixty women, at the moment. Originally, about thirty men and a hundred and seventy women.”

”What happened to the others?”

”I told you there were some failures. Many of the women died in childbirth. Some of them survived, but found out about the results--and the results, up until now, haven't been perfect. A few of the men found out, too. Well, they have only one method of dealing with failures here. They dispose of them. I told you about that chimney, didn't I?”

<script>