He kept talking, warming to his theme. He spoke long and earnestly. And when he was through, he received a standing ovation. He left secure in the knowledge that the request for an injunction against the Venus Observatory pending a grand jury investigation would be withdrawn.
Frank left whistling. Everything was going right for him. Everything had been going right ever since the previous night and the blind date with Mercy.
“Look,” Frank had told her when they’d both recovered from the initial shock of seeing each other once again, “I’m as disturbed by this as you are. But we’re stuck with each other. So why not try to make the evening pleasant?”
“I guess you’re right,” Mercy had agreed.
“Well, thank goodness for that,” “Fig” had said. “Waiter,” he’d called. “Bring us a bottle of champagne.”
The champagne had been an inspired idea. It had relaxed both Frank and Mercy. The first feeling of having to make an effort at polite conversation vanished in a quick rapport that had them chatting together easily. They discovered that they had many likes in common. Dancing, it turned out, was one of them. They danced. They had more champagne. They danced again. They danced very well together. The feeling was building quite quickly between them that they did everything very well together. Including the one thing they both studiously avoided mentioning.
When they parted with “Fig” and Gloria in front of the club, Frank and Mercy’s spirits had been high. They were laughing at some bit of nonsense of “Fig’s” when they climbed into the cab. Then, suddenly, they weren’t laughing any more; they were kissing each other.
The kiss was repeated outside Mercy’s door. Frank decided against pushing it any further. He really liked her, and there would be plenty of time for that. Nothing was said, but Mercy sensed his decision and was glad. They did, however, kiss one more time.
“Fate,” Frank had murmured, a teasing note in his voice.
“Kismet.” Mercy giggled.
“Why fight it?” Frank rolled his eyes in mock imitation of a ham actor.
“It’s bigger than both of us .. .” Mercy had fallen in with the light mood.
“A magnetic attraction . . .”
“We’re just meant for each other . . .”
“So we’ll defy convention!” Frank made a fist and shook it dramatically.
“Ignore the rules!” Mercy made a Joan of Arc face à la Ingrid Bergman.
“And I’ll call you tomorrow . . .”
“You will?” Mercy was brought up short.
“I will.” Frank dropped the sham then. “I want to sec you again, Mercy. What do you say?”
“Call me tomorrow,” Mercy had murmured.
They’d kissed one last time and Frank had left then. Mercy had gone to bed humming to herself. She’d waked up feeling the same way. She was still humming when she arrived at the Observatory to begin her day’s work.
Dr. Peerloin had assigned her to study some of the first case histories compiled by the Observatory. The idea was to see if it was possible to tell from the extensive interview information what the bio-erotic reaction of the person would be and then to check it out in reverse with data accumulated in the series of “experiments” involving the particular person. What Mercy was looking for was a pattern or patterns which might later form the basis of theories applicable to all people. She worked away steadily and happily all morning.
It was early afternoon when she came across Frank Pollener’s interview sheets. Ordinarily, she knew, she should simply have skipped over them. There was not yet enough laboratory evidence on Frank to relate to the interview. One experience was hardly enough to prove anything. But Mercy was only human. She couldn’t resist reading his interview.
“First experience, age fourteen.” She smiled to herself. “Precocious,” she decided. “Second experience, age fourteen. Must have liked it,” she concluded. “Third, age fourteen . . . Etcetera . . . What a depraved little boy!” Mercy was still smiling, but not quite so understandingly. “Frequency during adolescence . . . Oh, that’s disgusting!” The smile vanished. “Frequency as an adult . . . Appalling! . . . Number of partners . . . Why, that’s inhuman!” Mercy was scowling openly now. “Meaningful relationships Oh! How awful!” Her eyes were positively racing over the pages now. “Reason for not marrying . . . Why buy a cow when—- Of all the—!”
The telephone on her desk rang, forcing Mercy to tear herself away from the interview sheets and answer it.
“Hello Oh, it’s you! No, I am not glad to hear your dulcet tones. . . . Bothering me? Nothing’s bothering me! No. I’m busy tonight.... No, I’m busy then too. . . . Next week? I’m busy. . . .When am I not busy? Never, as far as you’re concerned! . . . Oh, you’re lonely for me, are you? Well, go talk to your milkman! Goodbye!” Mercy slammed down the phone.
Immediately, the phone rang again. “Hello!” Mercy’s voice was still angry.
“Mercy?” The voice reacted to her tone. “This is Dr. Peerloin.”
“Oh. Hello, Dr. Peerloin. I’m sorry. I was expecting someone else.”
“Oh. Well I just called to ask you to come to Professor Woocheck’s office. He has something he wants to discuss with those of us in supervisory positions.”
“I’ll be right there.”
When Mercy arrived, Dr. Peerloin, Professor Woocheck, “Fig” Newton and half a dozen others were already waiting. “Fig” got her a chair and Professor Woocheck started speaking.
“Thanks to Mr. Pollener, who’s been helping us in our legal difficulties,” he told them, “our two major problems are solved. The Mothers for Morality will withdraw their request for an injunction. And Mr. Pollener assured me that he’ll be able to get the charges dropped against Dr. Peerloin and the others who have been facing trial. However,” he tapped a pile of envelopes on his desk, “I have here several letters from various people and organizations which obviously misunderstand the nature and purpose of our work. None is serious at the moment, but all have the potentiality of becoming a serious obstacle to our investigations. So I thought it would be a good idea for us to go over them together and decide how to deal with each one individually.”
There was a general murmur of agreement.
“Very well.” The Professor withdrew the paper from the top envelope. “The first is from the ‘National Committee to Ban Sex Surveys.’ They claim that such surveys are an infringement of privacy and encourage lewd behavior among unmarried people.”
“Why not write them that, if anything, it discourages such behavior,” Mercy said bitterly. “I mean, experience is not only a great teacher, but may also be a great dissuader.”