The Beautiful People

by Charles Beaumont

  Produced by Greg Weeks, Dianna Adair and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  The Procedure for Becoming Beautiful]

  The Main Characters ]

  _Mary was a misfit. She didn't want to be beautiful. And she wasted timedoing mad things--like eating and sleeping._

  THE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE

  By Charles Beaumont

  Mary sat quietly and watched the handsome man's legs blown off; watchedfurther as the great ship began to crumple and break into small piecesin the middle of the blazing night. She fidgeted slightly as the men andthe parts of the men came floating dreamily through the wreckage outinto the awful silence. And when the meteorite shower came upon the men,gouging holes through everything, tearing flesh and ripping bones, Maryclosed her eyes.

  "Mother."

  Mrs. Cuberle glanced up from her magazine.

  "Hmm?"

  "Do we have to wait much longer?"

  "I don't think so. Why?"

  Mary said nothing but looked at the moving wall.

  "Oh, that." Mrs. Cuberle laughed and shook her head. "That tired oldthing. Read a magazine, Mary, like I'm doing. We've all seen _that_ amillion times."

  "Does it have to be on, Mother?"

  "Well, nobody seems to be watching. I don't think the doctor would mindif I switched it off."

  Mrs. Cuberle rose from the couch and walked to the wall. She depressed alittle button and the life went from the wall, flickering and glowing.

  Mary opened her eyes.

  "Honestly," Mrs. Cuberle said to a woman sitting beside her, "you'dthink they'd try to get something else. We might as well go to themuseum and watch the first landing on Mars. The MayorakaDisaster--really!"

  The woman replied without distracting her eyes from the magazine page."It's the doctor's idea. Psychological."

  Mrs. Cuberle opened her mouth and moved her head up and down knowingly.

  "Ohhh. I should have known there was _some_ reason. Still, who watchesit?"

  "The children do. Makes them think, makes them grateful or something."

  "Ohhh."

  "Psychological."

  Mary picked up a magazine and leafed through the pages. All photographs,of women and men. Women like Mother and like the others in the room;slender, tanned, shapely, beautiful women; and men with large musclesand shiny hair. Women and men, all looking alike, all perfect andbeautiful. She folded the magazine and wondered how to answer thequestions that would be asked.

  "Mother--"

  "Gracious, what is it now! Can't you sit still for a minute?"

  "But we've been here three hours."

  Mrs. Cuberle sniffed.

  "Do--do I really have to?"

  "Now don't be silly, Mary. After those terrible things you told me, of_course_ you do."

  An olive-skinned woman in a transparent white uniform came into thereception room.

  "Cuberle. Mrs. Zena Cuberle?"

  "Yes."

  "Doctor will see you now."

  Mrs. Cuberle took Mary's hand and they walked behind the nurse down along corridor.

  A man who seemed in his middle twenties looked up from a desk. He smiledand gestured toward two adjoining chairs.

  "Well--well."

  "Doctor Hortel, I--"

  The doctor snapped his fingers.

  "Of course, I know. Your daughter. Ha ha, I certainly do know yourtrouble. Get so many of them nowadays--takes up most of my time."

  "You do?" asked Mrs. Cuberle. "Frankly, it had begun to upset me."

  "Upset? Hmm. Not good. Not good at all. Ah, but then--if people did notget upset, we psychiatrists would be out of a job, eh? Go the way of theearly M. D. But, I assure you, I need hear no more." He turned hishandsome face to Mary. "Little girl, how old are you?"

  "Eighteen, sir."

  "Oh, a real bit of impatience. It's just about time, of course. Whatmight your name be?"

  "Mary."

  "Charming! And so unusual. Well now, Mary, may I say that I understandyour problem--understand it thoroughly?"

  Mrs. Cuberle smiled and smoothed the sequins on her blouse.

  "Madam, you have no idea how many there are these days. Sometimes itpreys on their minds so that it affects them physically, even mentally.Makes them act strange, say peculiar, unexpected things. One little girlI recall was so distraught she did nothing but brood all day long. Canyou imagine!"

  "That's what Mary does. When she finally told me, doctor, I thought shehad gone--_you_ know."

  "That bad, eh? Afraid we'll have to start a re-education program, verysoon, or they'll all be like this. I believe I'll suggest it to thesenator day after tomorrow."

  "I don't quite understand, doctor."

  "Simply, Mrs. Cuberle, that the children have got to be thoroughlyinstructed. Thoroughly. Too much is taken for granted and childish mindssomehow refuse to accept things without definite reason. Children havebecome far too intellectual, which, as I trust I needn't remind you, isa dangerous thing."

  "Yes, but what has this to do with--"

  "With Mary? Everything, of course. Mary, like half the sixteen,seventeen and eighteen year olds today, has begun to feel acutelyself-conscious. She feels that her body has developed sufficiently forthe Transformation--which of course it has not, not quite yet--and shecannot understand the complex reasons that compel her to wait until somefuture date. Mary looks at you, at the women all about her, at thepictures, and then she looks into a mirror. From pure perfection ofbody, face, limbs, pigmentation, carriage, stance, from simon-pureperfection, if I may be allowed the expression, she sees herself and ishorrified. Isn't that so, my dear child? Of course--of course. She asksherself, why must I be hideous, unbalanced, oversize, undersize, full ofrevolting skin eruptions, badly schemed organically? In short, Mary istired of being a monster and is overly anxious to achieve what almosteveryone else has already achieved."

  "But--" said Mrs. Cuberle.

  "This much you understand, doubtless. Now, Mary, what you object to isthat our society offers you, and the others like you, no convincinglogic on the side of waiting until age nineteen. It is all taken forgranted, and you want to know why! It is that simple. A non-technicalexplanation will not suffice--mercy no! The modern child wants facts,solid technical data, to satisfy her every question. And that, as youcan both see, will take a good deal of reorganizing."

  "But--" said Mary.

  "The child is upset, nervous, tense; she acts strange, peculiar, odd,worries you and makes herself ill because it is beyond our meagre powersto put it across. I tell you, what we need is a whole new basis forlearning. And, that will take doing. It will take _doing_, Mrs.Cuberle. Now, don't you worry about Mary, and don't _you_ worry, child.I'll prescribe some pills and--"

  "No, no, doctor! You're all mixed up," cried Mrs. Cuberle.

  "I beg your pardon, Madam?"

  "What I mean is, you've got it wrong. Tell him, Mary, tell the doctorwhat you told me."

  Mary shifted uneasily in the chair.

  "It's that--I don't want it."

  The doctor's well-proportioned jaw dropped.

  "Would you please repeat that?"

  "I said, I don't want the Transformation."

  "D--Don't want it?"

  "You see? She told me. That's why I came to you."

  The doctor looked at Mary suspiciously.

  "But that's impossible! I have never heard of such a thing. Little girl,you are playing a joke!"

  Mary nodded negatively.

  "See, doctor. What can it be?" Mrs. Cuberle rose and began to pace.

  The doctor clucked his tongue and took from a small cupboard a black boxcovered with buttons and dials and wire.

  "Oh no, you don't think--I mean, could
it?"

  "We shall soon see." The doctor revolved a number of dials and studiedthe single bulb in the center of the box. It did not flicker. He removedhandles from Mary's head.

  "Dear me," the doctor said, "dear me. Your daughter is perfectly sane,Mrs. Cuberle."

  "Well, then what is it?"

  "Perhaps she is lying. We haven't completely eliminated that factor asyet; it slips into certain organisms."

  More tests. More machines and more negative results.

  Mary pushed her foot in a circle on the floor. When the doctor put hishands to her shoulders, she looked up pleasantly.

  "Little