Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from If Worlds of Science Fiction April 1956. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
love story
BY IRVING E. COX, JR.
Illustrated by Paul Orban
Everything was aimed at satisfying the whims of women. Thepopular cliches, the pretty romances, the catchwords ofadvertising became realities; and the compound kept the menenslaved. George knew what he had to do....
he duty bell rang and obediently George clattered down the steps from hisconfinement cubicle over the garage. His mother's chartreuse-coloredCadillac convertible purred to a stop in the drive.
"It's so sweet of you to come, Georgie," his mother said when Georgeopened the door for her.
"Whenever you need me, Mummy." It was no effort at all to keep thesneer out of his voice. Deception had become a part of his character.
His mother squeezed his arm. "I can always count on my little boy todo the right thing."
"Yes, Mummy." They were mouthing a formula of words. They were bothvery much aware that if George hadn't snapped to attention as soon asthe duty bell rang, he risked being sentenced, at least temporarily,to the national hero's corps.
Still in the customary, martyr's whisper, George's mother said, "Thishas been such a tiring day. A man can never understand what a womanhas to endure, Georgie; my life is such an ordeal." Her tone turned atonce coldly practical. "I've two packages in the trunk; carry them tothe house for me."
George picked up the cardboard boxes and followed her along the brickwalk in the direction of the white, Colonial mansion where his motherand her two daughters and her current husband lived. George, being aboy, was allowed in the house only when his mother invited him, orwhen he was being shown off to a prospective bride. George wasnineteen, the most acceptable marriage age; because he had amagnificent build and the reputation for being a good boy, his motherwas rumored to be asking twenty thousand shares for him.
As they passed the rose arbor, his mother dropped on the wooden seatand drew George down beside her. "I've a surprise for you, George—anew bidder. Mrs. Harper is thinking about you for her daughter."
"Jenny Harper?" Suddenly his throat was dust dry with excitement.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Georgie?"
"Whatever arrangement you make, Mummy." Jenny Harper was one of thefew outsiders George had occasionally seen as he grew up. She wasapproximately his age, a stunning, dark-eyed brunette.
"Jenny and her mother are coming to dinner to talk over a marriagesettlement." Speculatively she ran her hand over the tanned,muscle-hard curve of his upper arm. "You're anxious to have your ownwoman, aren't you, George?"
"So I can begin to work for her, Mummy." That, at least, was thecorrect answer, if not an honest one.
"And begin taking the compound every day." His mother smiled. "Oh, Iknow you wicked boys! Put on your dress trunks tonight. We want Jennyt