by Bryce Walton
"For the first time in a long, longtime, we women feel like ourselves. We feel truly independent. The menaround us are the kind of men we want, instead of us being what theywant us to be, or even worse, the men being what we want them to be butresenting it and making life unbearable for both. All through theprocess of being changed into men, our women undergo such a thoroughconditioning that they can never be anything else but model men in everysense. Their attitude as women with which they started treatment helped.They knew what they wanted in men, and they became what we wanted themto be, as men."
"Very logical," Bowren said. "It smells to heaven it's so logical." Itwas purely impulse, what he did then. He couldn't help it. It wasn'tlogical either. It was emotional and he did it because he had to do itand because he didn't see any reason why he shouldn't.
He put his arm out suddenly, hooked her slim waist, and pulled her tohim. Her face flushed and his eyes were very wide and dark as she lookedup at him.
"Listen," he said. "The whole thing's insane. The lot of you are mad,and though I can't help it, I hate to see it happen this way. What kindof men are these? These smiling robots, these goons who are nothing elsebut reflections in a woman's mirror? Who'd want to be a man like that.Who would really want a man like that? And who would want a woman whowas just what a man wanted her to be? Where's the fire? Where's theindividuality? Where's the conflict, the fighting and snarling andraging that makes living. All this is apathy, this is death! You don'tgrow by being agreeable, but by conflict."
"What are you trying to sell now?" she whispered.
He laughed. It was wild sounding to him, not very humorous really, butstill it was laughter. "Selling nothing, buying nothing." He pulled hercloser and kissed her. Her lips parted slightly and he could feel thewarmth of her and the quick drawing of breath. Then she pushed him away.She raised her hand and brushed it over his face.
She shook her head slowly. "It feels rather interesting," she said,"your face. I've never felt a man's face before, that wasn't smooth, theway it should be."
He laughed again, more softly this time. "Why reform your men? You womenalways wanted to do that."
"We don't reform men here," she said. "We start them out right--from thebeginning."
She backed away from him. She raised her hand to her face and herfingers touched her lips. Wrinkles appeared between her eyes and sheshook her head again. Not at him, but at something, a thought perhaps,he couldn't tell.
Finally she said. "That was an inexcusable, boorish thing to do. Atypical thoughtless egomanical Earth-male action if there ever was one.Our men are all perfect here, and in comparison to them, you're a prettymiserable specimen. I'm glad you showed up here. It's given me, andother women, a good chance for comparison. It makes our men seem so muchbetter even than they were to us before."
He didn't say anything.
"Our men are perfect! Perfect you understand? What are you smilingabout? Their character is good. They're excellent conversationalists,well informed, always attentive, moderate, sympathetic, interested inlife, and always interested in _us_."
"And I suppose they are also--human?"
"This is nonsense," she said, her voice rising slightly. "You will takethat door out please. The Council will decide what's to be done withyou."
He nodded, turned, and went through the door. There were two men therewaiting for him. They were both blond, with light blue eyes, just mediumheight, perfectly constructed physically, perfectly groomed, impeccablydressed. They smiled at him. Their teeth had been brushed every morning.One of them wrinkled his nose, obviously as a reaction to Bowren. Theother started to reach, seemed reluctant to touch him.
"Then don't touch me, brother," Bowren said. "Put a hand on me, and I'llslug you." The man reached away, and it gave Bowren an ecstaticsensation to send his fist against the man's jaw. It made a crackingsound and the man's head flopped back as his knees crumbled and he swungaround and stretched out flat on his face on the long tubular corridor.
"Always remember your etiquette," Bowren said. "Keep your hands offpeople. It isn't polite."
The other man grunted something, still managing to smile, as he rushedat Bowren. Bowren side-stepped, hooked the man's neck in his arm and ranhim across the hall and smashed his head into the wall.
He turned, opened the door into Munsel's office, dragged both of them inand shut the door again. He walked down the corridor several hundredfeet before a woman appeared, in some kind of uniform, and said. "Willyou come this way please?"
He said he would.
* * * * *
It was a small room, comfortably furnished. Food came through a panel inthe wall whenever he pressed the right button. A telescreen furnishedentertainment when he pushed another button. Tasty mixed drinksresponded to other buttons.
He never bothered to take advantage of the facilities offered forremoving his beard, bathing, or changing clothes. Whatever fate wasgoing to befall him, he would just as soon meet it as the only man onMars who looked the part--according to Bowren's standards, at least--atleast by comparison.
He thought of trying to escape. If he could get away from the city andinto the Martian hills, he could die out there with some dignity. It wasa good idea, but he knew it was impossible. At least so far, it wasimpossible. Maybe something would come up. An opportunity and he wouldtake it. That was the only thing left for him.
He was in there for what seemed a long time. It was still, the lightremaining always the same. He slept a number of times and ate severaltimes. He did a lot of thinking too. He thought about the men on Earthand finally he decided it didn't matter much. They had brought it onthemselves in a way, and if there was anything like cause and effectoperating on such a scale, they deserved no sympathy. Man had expressedhis aggressive male ego until he evolved the H-bombs and worse, and bythen the whole world was neurotic with fear, including the women. Womenhad always looked into the mirror of the future (or lack of it), of therace, and the more she had looked, the more the insecurity. The atomicwars had created a kind of final feeling of insecurity as far as menwere concerned, forced them to become completely psychologically andphysiologically self-sufficient. They had converted part of their ownkind into men, their own kind of men, and theoretically there wouldn'tbe any more insecurity brought on by the kind of male psychology thathad turned the Earth around for so long.
All right, drop it right there then, he thought. It's about all over.It's all over but the requiem. Sometime later he was in a mood where hedidn't mind it when an impersonal face appeared on the screen and lookedright at him and told him the Council's verdict. It was a woman, and hervoice was cold, very cold.
"Mr. Eddie Bowren. The Council has reached a verdict regarding what isto be done with you. You are to be exterminated. It is painless and wewill make it as pleasant as possible."
"Thanks," Bowren said. A woman's world was so polite, so mannerly, soremembering of all the social amenities. It would be so difficult aftera while to know when anyone was speaking, or doing anything real."Thanks," he said again. "I will do all in my power to make myextermination a matter of mutual pleasure." By now he was pretty drunk,had been drunk for some time. He raised his glass. "Here's to a realhappy time of it, baby."
The screen faded. He sat there brooding, and he was still brooding whenthe door unlocked and opened softly. He sat there and looked at GloriaMunsel for a while, wondering why she was here. Why she would look soprovocative, so enchanting, so devastating, whatever other words youcared to dream up.
She moved toward him with a slight swaying motion that further disturbedhim. He felt her long white fingers rubbing over the stiff wiry beard ofhis face. "I dreamed about the way that beard felt last night," shesaid. "Silly of me wasn't it? I heard of the way you smell, of the wayyou yelled at me, so impolitely. Why did I dream of it, I said thismorning, so now I'm here to find out why."
"Get out and let me alone," Bowren yelled. "I'm going to beexterminated. So let me alone to my own company."
&nbs
p; "Yes, I heard about that verdict," she said. She looked away from him."I don't know why they made that choice. Well, I do in a way, they'reafraid of you, your influence. It would be very disruptive socially.Several of our men--"
"It doesn't matter why," Bowren said. "What matters is that it will beas pleasant as possible. If you're going to kill a man, be nice aboutit."
She stared down at him. Chills rippled down his back as her warm softfingers continued to stroke his bearded chin and throat. He got up. Itwas too uncomfortable and it was torture. He said, "Get out
