Children of Tomorrow

by A. E. van Vogt

  business - ‘ He broke off. ‘I’m the leader of this outfit.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Lee/ said Mike, ‘but the outfit is in agreement that where Susan is concerned you can’t be trusted completely.’- Lee began furiously, ‘But that’s — ’ He stopped. His eyes narrowed with sudden thought. ‘I remember, the other night, You wouldn’t push.’

  ‘You broke up that meeting early on account of Susan’s dad,1 Mike nodded.

  ‘Oh!’ The outfit leader gazed off into space, a slightly bitter expression on his face. But the color faded from his cheeks. He seemed to be more thoughtful. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t push,’ he said. ‘I let something happen there that we shouldn’t have done.’ ‘You mean,’ corrected Mike, ‘you did something you shouldn’t have done.’

  ‘No” - firmly - ‘because of my anxiety not to let concern for Susan influence me, I let you - particularly you - judge someone to be a booter before he did anything. And Mr Lane hasn’t done anything, Mike.’

  You mean,’ Mike flashed, ‘he hasn’t done anything yet.’ ‘Mike,’ said Lee chidingly, ‘that’s all that we ever need to know.’

  A change had come over the slender youth. His dark eyes misted. He stood there, and it was he, now, who was disturbed. The blond boy said, ‘Sack, Mike?’

  A long pause. Finally, in a low voice, Mike said, ‘Sack, Lee.’ The older youth seemed to have recovered completely. ‘What’ s the chatter?’ he asked.

  It was a sober Mike who glanced at his watch. ‘I spoke to the outfit,’ he said, ‘and Marianne is facing Susan’ - once more he looked at the time, as if because of his inner turmoil he had already forgotten what he saw the first time - ‘just about now!’ he finished breathlessly.

  The reality wasn’t quite like that. Susan was late. She arrived bleary-eyed, and she was in an awful hurry. If she hadn’t seen Marianne first, the facing might have been postponed by the inexorable fact that school bells would be ringing in a minute or so. But she did glimpse the smaller girl. Whereupon, she faltered - and waved. And that was the moment. Marianne, her blue eyes bright with urgency, came running.

  ‘Outfit sent me to face you,’ she blurted. Having spoken, she burst into tears. ‘What kept you?’ she sobbed. ‘First time I ever faced anybody, and you spoil it by arriving late.’

  Because of the tears, it was not exactly a dear communication. Susan stood for a long moment, her body all geared to go toward the near entrance of the school. The fact that she hadn't had

  enough sleep added its confusion. And now, the mumbled words from Marianne. Yet, suddenly, the meaning came through, and she was startled. “You’re here to face me?’ She spoke slowly, Whatever for?’

  Marianne was in process of gulping back her self-control. But she still glopped her words, as she said. ‘I’m to tell you: Stay away from the outfitters today. Just go to your classes. You’ll be judged over at Lee’s tonight at 7.30.’

  The meaning was no longer in doubt, and the taller girl changed color. There was a distinct energy drop visible in the way her body suddenly seemed less alive. But is was like somebody who had been hit hard, and was now angry. Her voice went up half an octave. ‘What kind of chatter is this?’ she demanded.

  ‘I’m sorry, Susan,’ said Marianne in a subdued tone, ‘but you were seen.’

  Blankness - or at least what looked like blankness. If the first dim awareness of what this might be about was stirring in Susan, she was neverthless struggling against letting that fact through to her consciousness. But the possibility was in her voice as she now, also, said in a subdued voice, ‘What do you mean?’

  For Marianne, it was the high moment. ‘Last night,’ she said, and now her voice clear and even loud, ‘lip-kissing.’

  The incredible. The impossible. The long-after-midnigilt hidden act for which she was not responsible in the first place. The secret that she had intended to keep secret - because she was innocent . . . Susan swallowed her sense of disaster, yet there was grief in her voice finally as she said, ‘B-but he grabbed me.’

  Somewhere the bells were buzzing, calling jabbers good and not-so-good to their student duties. But the two girls were totally captured by the intensity of the moment. ‘I’m just the one that’s facing you,’ said Marianne loftily. Yet it was more than that, for she looked up at Susan with wide, fascinated eyes, and said, ‘What was it like?’

  The blonde girl’s attention had gone on to another thought. And so the question really blanked her. ‘What?’ she said, astonished.

  ‘Lip-kissing,’ said the dark-haired girl, her blue eyes wide open and absorbed with that thought.

  It was not a question to which Susan could give her attention. ‘I don’t remember,’ she said vaguely. Her misty eyes, as blue as Marianne’s but shadowed now, fixed on the other girl’s face. ’Who saw me?’ she asked.

  ‘Mike and Lee.’ Because there was no reply, because Susan merely stood there with a kind of cringing look on her face as she considered that meaning, Marianne added, ‘Mike says you may not be a jabber anymore.’

  The words were like a blow struck at a spirited animal ; even if it was sick, it would get up. Susan mentally stood up and defended herself. ‘I am, too,’ she said, fiercely. And just like that, in a flash, she was angry again. ‘Oh, that Mike - wait till I see him. This is ridiculous.’

  The rage in her tone alarmed Marianne. ‘You leave Mike alone. He’s only doing his outfit duty.’

  ‘There’s something too much about that jabber,’ said Susan furiously. ‘I’ll bet he turns into a booter when he grows up - just like his father.’

  ‘You have no right to say things like that,’ the younger girl shrilled. ‘You’re just mad ’cause you were caught.’

  ‘I was not caught!’ yelled Susan.

  The sound of her voice was a single, echoing noise on what had become a silent campus. A few late students were hurrying silently, and singly, here and there; but except for that they were alone. Both girls became aware of that reality at the same moment. ‘Oh, my goodness!’ gasped Marianne.

  Susan grabbed her aim, and said, ‘Come along!’

  She began to run, half dragging Marianne. It quickly became apparent that her companion was as strongly motivated as she, and was fully capable of keeping up with her, and no assistance needed, and so she released the younger girl’s arm.

  At the top of the steps, the two girls separated. Marianne ran off to the right, and Susan to the left. They entered separate doors, were briefly visible through the transparent plastic. They disappeared simultaneously into a blur of light and shadow inside.

  Late that afternoon - after school - while Mike stood by, Bud Jaeger performed his first outfit duty. The object of his ministrations was an eight-year-old boy named Martin Rilby whose mother described how he would go into a wild tantrum whenever he couldn’t have his own way. Having graphically described his behavior, the mother left the room, and Bud delivered the outfit lecture on that specific, common behavior of many little boys and girls. Bud completed his indoctrination: ‘And if you don’t stop, do you know what will happen?’

  The tense child, speechless, eyes wide and fascinated, could only shake his head.

  ‘You’ll be taken to a room, and locked in; and for a whole hour a recording will be played of you in your last tantrum. That’s the first time. If you do it again, it will be an hour and a half.' He broke off. ‘The outfit has checked into the way your mother treats you at home, and she’s doing perfectly fine. So it’s you that has to make the change. Sack?’

  The boy was staring at him, round-eyed. Something about that expression alarmed Bud, and he teiapathed to his father who was hovering just beyond the window a few feet away; Could it be, my father, that young children can see me as I am?

  Very young children, probably, was the reply. But this one is a little old.

  Perhaps the reason the outfits have to deal with him is because he has remained childlike in some way, said Bud.

  There was no time for further communication
on that level. The boy had crowded up close to him. ‘Do you always look that strange?’ he asked.

  ‘Martin!’ said Bud. ‘You also must be courteous.5

  The boy backed away. ‘I beg your pardon,’ he said.

  Bud recognised victory, and he was relieved. He continued his indoctrination hastily, ‘You’re going to have to measure up, Martin. Usually, we don’t start raising little boys and girls until they’re ten, but in your case we’re making a special situation. When you finally get into an outfit, the way you’re treated will depend on how you behave now. Sack?... Say sack.’

  It was the overwhelm. The need to belong to a group. The wanting to be accepted. Martin swallowed hard, and mumbled, ‘Sack.’

  ‘Pretty good/ said Mike judiciously, when Bud and he were finally out on the street again. ‘But now - Marty is your responsibility. You call his mother. You keep an eye on him . . . And you refer back to me only if you have to carry through on that threat - sack?’

  ‘Sack,’ nodded Bud.

  The invisible watcher was searching. In the darkness of early evening, he floated up the side of the apartment building. The Red Cat outfit had gone into the elevator; that was all he knew. How far up had they gone? His view through the gleaming plate glass of the entrance doors had not shown the signal light over each elevator, for the reason that the elevators were at a 90° angle to the door. And so he had to trace them with only one bit of information to guide him: that they were not on the first floor,

  and were therefore on either the second, third or fourth stories.

  His guess was .,. fourth floor. Because that - Bud had reported to him - was the view floor. By deduction, since Lee David’s father was a fairly high-level space officer, it seemed obvious that the David’s would have one of the better apartments. So up to the fourth floor he went, and then began the search. From window to window he darted, pausing only to make the test, the perception probe, that would apprize him that Bud was inside ... and found him after an indeterminate time - on the fourth floor.

  It was unfortunate, then, that the windows were adjusted so that no light emitted through them from inside. And irritating that Bud merely acknowledged his presence, and then ceased his communication. Finally the father could restrain his curiosity no longer.

  It is true, my son that I am here primarily as your protector. But I am also interested in the strategy by which outfits operate. He demanded What are they doing?

  He was aware, then, of those dimly perceived mental processes by which another person showed awareness that he had been derelict of his duty. It was a guilty but excited Bud that replied: As a courtesy to the Yellow Deer outfit, we're dashing Joe Patton. The Yellow Deer leader, Tom Clanton, is here, to make sure we handle him right.

  But what does it mean - dashing?... Baffled.

  He’s got to convince us. But we keep pushing him away.

  He's got to convince you that he won't do something again? What?

  While the telepathic dialogue between father and son continued. inside the apartment Mike was saying to Joe. ‘My feeling is, you’d sneak off with that slab again if you thought no one would find out.’ Having spoken the negation, he gave Joe a hard push toward one of the other boys of the Red Cat outfit.

  This time, Joe refused to accept the rejection. He recovered his balance, and, with lips tightening, attacked Mike. His arms flailed. He staggered forward. His movements were so awkward that Mike had no difficulty avoiding him. In fact, he caught at one of the arms as it passed by him, and using it as a lever, propelled Joe toward Albert. Joe flailed at Albert, who ducked under his arms, caught him around the body, and pushed him toward Lee.

  All of a sudden, the repeated imbalance, and what was undoubtedly a cumulative dizziness was too much for Joe. He grew angrier, but had less and less control over his movements. He fell, tried twice to get up, and then lay there on the carpet, giggling. ‘Honest,’ he giggled, ‘it won’t happen again.’

  Tom Clanton, a sandy-haired, husky boy of seventeen, who had been standing off to one side, came forward, and said softly5 'What’s funny, Joe?’

  And that, also, was too much for Joe. He began to laugh wildly, his body twisted on the floor. His eyes rolled. He roared with what was presently obvious hysteria - became silent from exhaustion; mumbled, ‘I just saw myself here, getting dashed because of a slab. That’s funny.’

  The girl referred to as a slab - Dolores Munroe - made a face as those words were spoken. She was sitting on a chair near the big window. She leaned forward, and stared at Joe on the floor ten feet away. Her voice projected clear and venomous into the silence created by Joe’s exhaustion: ‘That’s typical outfit courtesy. Blame the woman. The Yellow Deer outfit ought to be called the yellow dog outfit.’

  ‘Honest,’ said Joe thickly - he seemed to be recovering a little

  ‘I don’t even like her, the way she is now. She used to be a pretty girl, but the sickness inside her shows on her face; and I shouldn’t ever have become interested in a girl who had that look on her face; and I knew it. And here I am ... in trouble with my friends for that. How crazy can you get?’

  ‘Joe/ said Dolores, and her voice trembled with rage, “you’re a stinker.’

  Tom Clanton stepped closer to Joe, half bent over him. His voice was steady, as he said, ‘Joe, I advise you to pay no attenion to anything that this former jabber says in her present state of mind.’

  Joe sat up. The flush was gone from his cheeks and forehead, and there was sincerity in his voice as he said earnestly, ‘Honest, jabbers, it won’t happen again. I mean it.’

  Mike came forward in that quick way of his. Lean-bodied and lean-faced, he stood beside Tom Clanton, and glanced around at the circle of faces. “What’s real bad about this is that Joe fell for the come-on of this slab - ’ He made a swift motion toward Dolores. ‘Now, he’s done her harm.’

  Dolores’s voice came piercingly from across the room The only person who’s done me harm is that little phony Susan Lane,?

  Susan, who was standing near the door with Marianne, made a face as those words were spoken. But she said nothing.

  Mike turned and gazed somberly at Dolores. ‘Susan will be judged in a few minutes for what she’s done. Then you’ll see how a real jabber handles an outfit facing - the same kind that knocked you for a loop.’

  Dolores’s eyes widened. It was evidently new information to her. She said avidly, ‘Susan - judged here tonight. What’d she do?’ Her whole body was changing, almost as if she were expanding. There was suddenly delight in the way she held herself: a genuine, vicious joy. ‘Hey, this I want to see.’

  'It’s not a show,’ said Lee from where he stood in the circle of Red Cat members. He did not glance at either Dolores or Susan. But he broke rank at this point, walked over to Joe, and helped him to his feet. To Joe, he said, 'You know this isn’t personal. We’re doing a job for your outfit. You just heard what Mike said. It’s true ... every word. But in my judgement you’ve proved you’re still a jabber.’ He glanced back and around. ‘Anybody here who doesn’t believe that?’

  No one spoke. Even Dolores looked straight ahead of her, and could not be bothered to comment. Lee glanced at Tom Clanton, ‘Sack, Tom?’

  The Yellow Deer leader nodded. ‘Sack,’ he said. His right hand went out, and caught Joe’s arm. ‘Come along,’ he said.

  Except for the opening and closing of the hall door, there was dead silence as the two boys departed. Yet in those minutes the group had broken up. The circle of faces and bodies that had surrounded Joe was scattered. Marianne had been edging toward Mike. Albert had started to follow Lee, and was standing half- turned from what had been the circle. Three other boys had moved just enough so that what had been a pattern was without form. The other two girls, who had been standing on the farther side of Susan, stepped back and leaned against the wall there. Only Bud had remained where he was, near the window.

  Lee seemed to be bracing himself. He pressed his lips together, and tightened hi
s shoulders. Moments later, he walked over to Dolores. The girl looked up at him with sullen eyes, but she did not quite look into his eyes. Slightly avoiding his gaze, she said in a defiant tone, ‘Don’t you dare hit me.’

  It was one of those wild, meaningless statements. Lee was visibly pained, and a kind of patient impatience showed in his manner. Mike came over, and said, ‘How about recommending the camp for Dolores? You’ve been holding off on this slab too long.’

  Dolores said in a pitying voice. ‘You’re such a child these days, Mike. You don’t seem to realise that I’m practically a woman.’

  ‘If you’re a woman,’ flashed Mike, “what are you doing snipping around the edges of the outfits?’

  Lee laid a restraining hand on Mike. “Let me handle this.’ He turned to Dolores, said, ‘For months you’ve chosen to be an outsider instead of an outfitter. But, as Mike says, you keep hanging around jabbers. Dolores . , . you’ve got to accept a bid from an outfit and stop all this foolishness.’

  ‘I’m not joining any outfit,’ said Dolores. ‘In fact’ - she hesitated; even for her it must have been a wild thought, but after a mere moment she made a body gesture of I’ll-show-you, and finished airily - ‘I may be getting married soon.’

  Lee was embarrassed for her. ‘Sssshh,’ he said He made a placating, dismissing gesture. ‘Dolores for you - after Joe - we’ve finally got to make a deadline. You broke out of our outfit, and so long as you were merely a nuisance to us we could tolerate and hope. But we’re responsible for the damage you do to other outfits. So, all right - one week. You’ve got a week to become a jabber again.’

  ‘What if I don’t?’ Defiantly. ‘And I won’t.’

  ‘We call for help. We turn you over. The camp - like Mike said.’

  ‘Still under Mike’s thumb, aren’t you?’ said Dolores sweetly. ‘Still echoing his judgements.’ She was totally calm again. ‘I’ll think it over. I’ll see how you handle this companion slab of mine over here.’ She pointed directly at Susan. ‘A fair judgement against her may influence my decision.’