Chairman Leonard: Oh, I see. So that’s the way it is.
The senator awoke. He had not been dreaming, but it was almost as if he had awakened from a bad dream—or awakened to a bad dream—and he struggled to go back to sleep again, to gain the Nirvana of unawareness, to shut out the harsh reality of existence, to dodge the shame of knowing who and what he was.
But there was someone stirring in the room, and someone spoke to him and he sat upright in bed, stung to wakefulness by the happiness and something else that was almost worship which the voice held.
“It’s wonderful, sir,” said Otto. “There have been phone calls all night long. And the telegrams and radiograms still are stacking up.”
The senator rubbed his eyes with pudgy fists.
“Phone calls, Otto? People sore at me?”
“Some of them were, sir. Terribly angry, sir. But not too many of them. Most of them were happy and wanted to tell you what a great thing you’d done. But I told them you were tired and I could not waken you.”
“Great thing?” said the senator. “What great thing have I done?”
“Why, sir, giving up life continuation. One man said to tell you it was the greatest example of moral courage the world had ever known. He said all the common people would bless you for it. Those were his very words. He was very solemn, sir.”
The senator swung his feet to the floor, sat on the edge of the bed, scratching at his ribs.
It was strange, he told himself, how a thing would turn out sometimes. A heel at bedtime and a hero in the morning.
“Don’t you see, sir,” said Otto, “you have made yourself one of the common people, one of the short-lived people. No one has ever done a thing like that before.”
“I was one of the common people,” said the senator, “long before I wrote that statement. And I didn’t make myself one of them. I was forced to become one of them, much against my will.”
But Otto, in his excitement, didn’t seem to hear.
He rattled on: “The newspapers are full of it, sir. It’s the biggest news in years. The political writers are chuckling over it. They’re calling it the smartest political move that was ever pulled. They say that before you made the announcement you didn’t have a chance of being re-elected senator and now, they say, you can be elected president if you just say the word.”
The senator sighed. “Otto,” he said, “please hand me my pants. It is cold in here.”
Otto handed him his trousers. “There’s a newspaperman wait-ing in the study, sir. I held all the others off, but this one sneaked in the back way. You know him, sir, so I let him wait. He is Mr. Lee.”
“I’ll see him,” said the senator.
So it was a smart political move, was it? Well, maybe so, but after a day or so, even the surprised political experts would begin to wonder about the logic of a man literally giving up his life to be re-elected to a senate seat.
Of course the common herd would love it, but he had not done it for applause. Although, so long as the people insisted upon thinking of him as great and noble, it was all right to let them go on thinking so.
The senator jerked his tie straight and buttoned his coat. He went into the study and Lee was waiting for him.
“I suppose you want an interview,” said the senator. “Want to know why I did this thing.”
Lee shook his head. “No, senator, I have something else. Something you should know about. Remember our talk last week? About the disappearances.”
The senator nodded.
“Well, I have something else. You wouldn’t tell me anything last week, but maybe now you will. I’ve checked, senator, and I’ve found this—the health winners are disappearing, too. More than eighty percent of those who participated in the finals of the last ten years have disappeared.”
“I don’t understand,” said the senator.
“They’re going somewhere,” said Lee. “Something’s happen-ing to them. Something’s happening to two classes of our people—the continuators and the healthiest youngsters.”
“Wait a minute,” gasped the senator. “Wait a minute, Mr. Lee.”
He groped his way to the desk, grasped its edge and lowered himself into a chair.
“There is something wrong, senator?” asked Lee.
“Wrong?” mumbled the senator. “Yes, there must be some-thing wrong.”
“They’ve found living space,” said Lee, triumphantly. “That’s it, isn’t it? They’ve found living space and they’re sending out the pioneers.”
The senator shook his head. “I don’t know, Lee. I have not been informed. Check Extrasolar Research. They’re the only ones who know—and they wouldn’t tell you.”
Lee grinned at him. “Good day, senator,” he said. “Thanks so much for helping.”
Dully, the senator watched him go.
Living space? Of course, that was it.
They had found living space and Extrasolar Research was sending out handpicked pioneers to prepare the way. It would take years of work and planning before the discovery could be announced. For once announced, world government must be ready to confer immortality on a mass production basis, must have ships available to carry out the hordes to the far, new worlds. A premature announcement wouldbring psychological and economic disruption that would make the government a shambles. So they would work very quietly, for they must work quietly.
His eyes found the little stack of letters on one corner of the desk and he remembered, with a shock of guilt, that he had meant to read them. He had promised Otto that he would and then he had forgotten.
I keep forgetting all the time, said the senator. I forget to read my paper and I forget to read my letters and I forget that some men are loyal and morally honest instead of slippery and slick. And I indulge in wishful thinking and that’s the worst of all.
Continuators and health champions disappearing. Sure, they’re disappearing. They’re headed for new worlds and immortality.
And I… I… if only I had kept my big mouth shut—
The phone chirped and he picked it up.
“This is Sutton at Extrasolar Research,” said an angry voice.
“Yes, Dr. Sutton,” said the senator. “It’s nice of you to call.”
“I’m calling in regard to the invitation that we sent you last week,” said Sutton. “In view of your statement last night, which we feel very keenly is an unjust criticism, we are with-drawing it.”
“Invitation,” said the senator. “Why, I didn’t—”
“What I can’t understand,” said Sutton, “is why, with the invitation in your pocket, you should have acted as you did.”
“But,” said the senator, “but, doctor—”
“Good-by, senator,” said Sutton.
Slowly the senator hung up. With a fumbling hand, he reached out and picked up the stack of letters.
It was the third one down. The return address was Extrasolar Research and it had been registered and sent special delivery and it was marked both PERSONAL and IMPORTANT.
The letter slipped out of the senator’s trembling fingers and fluttered to the floor. He did not pick it up.
It was too late now, he knew, to do anything about it.