selections merely by thesound of the names. She then turned a knob marked Tomorrow and dialedabout with the Master Selector until the image of a man reading anewspaper appeared on the screen. She waited until he turned to thesports page before seeing how she had done. She had done poorly. Onlyone winner out of seven races. Of course, using the Destiny apparatusitself for personal gain was a violation of the Direct Influencing ofPersonal Fate Clause and was sufficient reason for losing her CPOticket.
When Mrs. Mimms returned from babysitting it was after midnight. A cupof tea at her elbow, she sat down before the screen. There was a partyjust breaking up in the far building. Some people above her werewatching the late show on TV. A couple on her own floor were arguingabout money but the argument seemed to be nearly over and Mrs. Mimmsdid not intrude further. Suddenly the pilot marked URGENT startedflashing and the blurs on the screen sharpened into a young man andwoman seated across from each other in the apartment where the partyhad been. Half-finished drinks and ash trays full of stubs lay about.Husband and wife were both slightly drunk and being very frank witheach other.
"I don't know how we got off on _this_," remarked the man. "WheneverGeorge gets a couple of drinks in him he starts popping off aboutpolitics and the fate of the world. He doesn't know a damn thing abouteither."
"Well, at least he's optimistic," the young woman said, kicking offher shoes.
"You can say that again! Fifty years from now, according to George,we'll all be living in plastic houses with three helicopters in eachgarage. There won't be any unemployment, we'll have a four-day week,atomic energy'll be doing all the heavy work, mankind'll have realizedthe futility of war, everything'll be just hunky-dory. Nuts! Guys likeGeorge make me sick."
"But good Lord, honey, if everyone felt like you there wouldn't _be_any world. Maybe things won't be perfect but life's got to go on."
"Go on to what?" muttered the husband, polishing off his wateryhighball. "--To a great big beautiful cloud of atomic fallout, that'swhat. Don't laugh either, because everything points that way and youknow it. Sputniks and ICBMs zooming around, both sides stockpilinglike crazy, half the world scrapping as it is. It's just a question ofwho tosses the first match and then blooie! Hell, Julie, it's not thatI don't _want_ another kid. It's just that I don't think it's fair tocreate human life and turn it loose in this--this holocaust."
The young woman got up and sat on the arm of his chair and strokedhis hair. "Oh Bill, honey, it's _wrong_ to think like that. Don't yousee how wrong it is?" Suddenly she wrinkled her nose at him andwhispered some words in his ear. They were in the specialbaby-language which had sprung up around the first child.
Then she said tipsily: "A baby is such a tiny thing."
"Yeah," said her husband, "you feed them and take care of them andwatch them grow and it's swell. Just like the fatted calf. Then youflip open the evening paper and wonder whether they'll have the goodluck to die in their beds at a ripe old age. I tell you I'm honestlyfrightened of where we're going...."
* * * * *
There were tense little crow's feet about Mrs. Mimms' eyes as shecleared the screen. She reached immediately for the telephone anddialed a number. A couple of seconds later the ResidentDestinyworker's voice said, "Hello?"
"George, this is Althea. I'm sorry to be calling so late but I have aCondition Twelve case."
George Kahn's voice was instantly alert. "Male?"
"Yes, and a good Third Intensity. Here are the coordinates if you wantto rerun it yourself." Mrs. Mimms read some figures off the dials."I'm authorized a week's night-teleportation but I only have thestandard equipment of course. You have the Viele apparatus over there,haven't you?"
"Yes, but frankly, Althea, even with the Viele we're limited in whatwe can do. I don't have to tell you that's getting pretty close toDirect Influence. I tampered with it myself a couple of years ago andgot a stiff reprimand from Central."
"But, George, this is a _Twelve_. A serious one. The files at Centralare full of Anti-Population Projectographs. All that might-have-beentalent that's lost in every Time Zone! Think what might have happenedif we hadn't interfered in the Voltaire case! Why we might even havelost Darwin himself if Mr. Wentworth hadn't insisted on three nightsof the Viele for Darwin's parents."
"Well, yes," admitted the Resident Destinyworker. "All right, Althea,I'll give him a week's dream kinesis if you insist but just rememberthe Sophistication Curve in the Twentieth. You'll probably have tosupplement it with some work of your own."
"Thank you George, I will."
"And Althea--"
"Yes?"
"You sound tired. Get a good night's rest. The Mid-Twentieth's a toughZone and the Chief would not want one of his best CPO's taking on morethan she can handle. Personally, I think you ought to ask him for anice soft assignment in the Future Division next trip."
Mrs. Mimms smiled. "I'll leave the glamor to the youngsters, George,they're much better at it. Besides," she added, "there isn't any teathere."
Again, Mrs. Mimms would have liked a cup, but she was much too tiredto prepare it.
* * * * *
Three weeks after Mrs. Mimms' arrival at the Greenlawn Apartments, thesuperintendent was repairing a leaky faucet on the top floor. Thehousewife watched him as he gave the nut a final twist with his wrenchand stood up.
"Thanks for coming up and looking at it so soon, Mr. Seely," she said."How are Mrs. Seely and the children?"
"Good Mrs. Dorne, real good, thanks. Especially the kids after thatnew TV show came on."
"Oh?" said Mrs. Dorne. "Which one is that?"
"It ain't on no more," said the super, "but, boy, while it lasted thekids sure got a kick out of it. That little Charlotte of mine, she'sgoing to be a real egghead."
"Well what kind of a show was it?"
"Reading," said the super. "Just reading. I ain't sure what theycalled it, but I know there wasn't no sponsor. Maybe that's why itlasted only two weeks or so. Some kind of test show I guess it was."
"I guess we missed it listening to something else. What channel was iton?"
"Now that you mention it I'm darned if I remember," Chuck Seely said."The kids just come home from school one night and parked in front ofthe TV like always and instead of the westerns and like that here'sthis guy, just reading. It lasted about an hour every night, wecouldn't drag the kids away. Me and the wife got in the habit watchingit too."
"Was it Charles Laughton? He has a reading program."
"It wasn't him. I never saw the guy before, but what a voice! Nocommercials, no scenery, no nothin' except this guy reading. Somethingdifferent every night, too. Stuff like Dickens and famous writers likethat. I never heard a voice like this guy had, you couldn't stoplistening. Then you know what he'd do at the end of the show?"
"What?"
"He'd tell the kids to go get a pencil and write down the names ofmore books to get at the library. And you know what? The kids _do_ it.That Charlotte, the other night she brings home some Shakespearestories for kids by a guy named Lamb. She makes me read 'em to her,too. Get a load o' me reading Shakespeare. I got to admit they'repretty good stories. That Charlotte's going to be a real egghead."
"We usually have our TV on around supper time. It's funny we missedit."
"I checked TV Guide but it was not listed," said the super. "It wassome kind of test show. I guess this guy couldn't find a sponsor."
* * * * *
A week after this incident Betty Randolph picked up the telephone andsaid, "Hello?" It was Dot on the ground floor. Ed had phoned earlierand said he'd be a little late. Betty felt relaxed and just in themood for some woman talk.
"Dot, you'll never guess where we were last night," she said. "We sawMy Fair Lady, imagine! Don't you envy me?"
There was a gasp at the other end of the line. "Betty Randolph, youdidn't! We've been on the waiting list for six months. Where in theworld did you get tickets?"
"That's the w
eird part of it. A messenger just delivered them to Ed inthe office one morning. They were in a plain envelope marked 'Mr.Randolph' and a card inside said 'Hope you enjoy them--George.' Edthinks the messenger made a mistake and got the wrong building orsomething because Ed's the only Randolph there. Anyway, by the time Edopened the envelope the