Short Fiction, Mack Reynolds [best book reader txt] 📗

him a slip of paper. He read it and intensified his pounding on the table.

“Gentlemen,” he shouted. “If Professor Manklethorp is through, we have here a request from the International Physical Culture Society to have their representative heard.”

“I know,” Sven Carlesen said. “He wants all of the colonists to be able to chin themselves twenty-five times as the first requisite.”

At the end of the five year period the space ship came again, settling into the identical field where it had first landed. This time a delegation awaited it, and a multitude that stretched as far as the eye could see.

A telepathic message came from the visitor from space almost immediately.

Choose from your number three representatives to discuss the situation with us.

Within ten minutes, three advanced and entered the ship by way of a port that opened before them as they approached. Among their number was Pierre Duclos. A passage stretched before them, and, seeing no one, they hesitated a moment before following it to its further end. Monsieur Duclos led the way, depending only slightly on his cane to aid his bent body.

A door opened and they were confronted by the figure of a man seated at a desk. It was several moments before they realized that the entity before them was masked so cleverly that they had been led to believe him human.

He said in faultless English, “I note that you have penetrated my disguise. I thought it would be easier for you if I hid my true appearance. Until your people are used to alien life forms, I must use this measure.”

Monsieur Duclos bowed. “We appreciate your consideration, but I assure you that our.⁠ ⁠…”

The alien waved a gloved hand. “Please, no argument. My appearance would probably nauseate you. But it is of no importance. Pray be seated.” He noted the cane, and nodded to the little Frenchman. “You sir, must be highly thought of to rate being chosen one of the thousand in view of your age and health.”

Although he was not at ease in the presence of the representative of the Galactic Union, Monsieur Duclos allowed himself a wry smile. “You misunderstand. I am not one of the colonists. My presence here at this meeting is an honor that has been awarded me in return for some small services in aiding in the selection of the favored ones.”

“And what were these services?”

“Of no real importance. I suppose you might say that the most important was that I was the first to refuse to be a colonist.”

Bently, one of the other earthmen spoke up, “Had it not been for Pierre Duclos, it is doubtful if the thousand would have been chosen, and even possible that there would be no earth to which to return for your colonists.”

Behind the mask the eyes of the alien gleamed. “Enlighten me further, please.”

Duclos demurred. “You honor me overmuch, Mr. Bently. Let us approach the problem of the colonists and their transportation.”

But John Bently went on. “For more than two years after your ship’s departure, complete confusion reigned in regard to selection of the thousand. Happily, all out warfare between nations had been avoided although conditions were rapidly coming to a point where it was momentarily expected.

“Each race, each nation, each religion, even each sex, thought they should have the greater representation. And each of these groups in turn were divided into subgroups by wealth, age, class, education and others. Almost everyone on earth knew of some reason why he should be one of the colonists. And most of us were willing to take any steps to make our desire come true.”

The alien said, “That was to be expected. And then?”

“And then Pierre Duclos formed his Society of Racial Preservation whose first requisite for membership was a refusal to become one of the colonists. The purpose of the organization was to find the thousand most suitable colonists without regard to race, nationality, creed, color, education, class, wealth or any other grouping.

“At first, the growth of membership was slow, but, after a time, man saw that his chance of survival as an individual was practically nil, that his chance of being chosen was at best less than one in two million. When he realized this, his next desire was to make sure that, even though he as an individual was doomed, the race survived. Membership in the society grew rapidly and internationally. The members, you might say, were fanatical. Why not? They knew that they had less than five years to live. Why not sacrifice those last years of life to such a noble cause?

“As the society grew in strength, nothing could stand before it. Governments that stood in the way were overthrown, social systems abolished, prejudices and institutions that had stood for centuries were wiped out. It became necessary to institute world government, to guarantee to all equal opportunity. Step by step, the society took the measures necessary to insure the selection of the best specimens earth had to offer.

“And scientific development was pushed to the utmost. We wished to send our colonists off with as much as earth could possibly give them. We eliminated a dozen diseases that have plagued us for centuries; we devised a thousand new tools and techniques.”

“In short,” said the alien, “because of this stimulus, man has progressed as much in this past few years as he could have expected in the next fifty.”

“That is correct,” Pierre Duclos said. “It is unfortunate that now we have on our threshold a world really worth living in, that it is fated to be destroyed.”

“I see,” said the alien, what would have been a smile on a human face flickered on his. “I am glad to report that the danger which confronted the earth has been removed and the need to populate the new planet with colonists in order to preserve your race is now eliminated.

“Gentlemen, the earth is safe. Man may go on with his plans without fear of destruction.”

Monsieur Duclos fingered his cane thoughtfully while the other two earthmen jumped