Part 23 (2/2)

Harry Collins nodded. ”Yes, as complicated. Because the only weaknesses we've observed _are_ physical ones. We've seen enough of the ways of this new civilization to realize that.

”All of the things I hated during my lifetime have disappeared now--the crowding, the compet.i.tion, the sordid self-interest, the bigotry, intolerance, prejudice. The anti-social aspects of society are gone. There is only the human race, living much closer to the concept of Utopia than I ever dreamed possible. You and the other survivors have done well, Littlejohn.”

”And yet you come to kill us.”

”We came for that purpose. Because _we_ still retained the flaws and failings of our former cultures. We looked for targets to blame, for villains to hate and destroy. Instead, we found this reality.

”No, I'm not crazy, Littlejohn. And I and my fellows aren't here to execute revenge. We have returned to the original plan; the plan Leffingwell had, and my son, and all the others who worked in their own way for their dream of a better world. We come now to help you.

Help you before you die--before we die.”

Littlejohn looked up and sighed. ”Why couldn't this have happened before?” he murmured. ”It's too late now.”

”But it isn't too late. My friends are here. They are telling your fellow council-members the same thing right now. We may be old, but we can still impart what we have learned. There are any number of technological developments to be made. We can help you to increase your use of atomic power. There's soil reclamation and irrigation projects and biological techniques--”

”You said it yourself,” Littlejohn whispered. ”We're a dying race.

That's the primary problem. And it's an insoluble one. Just this afternoon--” And he told him about the interview with Thurmon.

”Don't you understand?” Littlejohn concluded. ”We have no solution for survival. We're paying the price now because for a while we wouldn't heed history. We tried to defeat Nature and in the end Nature has defeated us. Because we would not render unto Caesar the things which are--”

Harry Collins smiled. ”That's it,” he said.

”What?”

”Caesar. That's the answer. Your own medical men must have records. I know, because I learned medicine from my son. There used to be an operation, in the old days, called a caesarean section--used on normal women and on dwarfs and midgets too, in childbirth. If your problem is how to deliver normal children safely, the technique can be revived.

Get hold of some of your people. Let's see what data you have on this.

I'll be glad to furnish instruction--”

There was excitement after that. Too much excitement for Littlejohn.

By the time the council had a.s.sembled in emergency session, by the time plans were formulated and he returned to his own dwelling in the helicopter, he was completely exhausted. Only the edge of elation sustained him; the realization that a solution had been found.

As he sank into slumber he knew that he would sleep the clock around.

And so would Harry Collins. The old man and his companions, now guests of the council, had been temporarily quartered in the council-chambers.

It was the only structure large enough to house them and even so they had to sleep on the floor. But it was sufficient comfort for the moment.

It was many hours before Harry Collins awoke. His waking was automatic, for the tiny telescreen at the end of the council room glowed suddenly, and the traditional voice chirped forth to interrupt his slumber.

”Good morning,” said the voice. ”It's a beautiful day in New Chicagee!”

Harry stared at the screen and then he smiled.

”Yes,” he murmured. ”But tomorrow will be better.”

THE END

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