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Jerome Bixby - Where There's Hope

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Jerome Bixby - Where There's Hope

    Where There's Hope

    Jerome Bixby

     Published:

     1953 Type(s):

     Short Fiction, Science Fiction Source: http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/30715

About Bixby:

    Drexel Jerome Lewis Bixby (January 11, 1923 Los Angeles, California – April 28, 1998 SanBernardino, California) was a American short story writer, editor and scriptwriter, best knownfor his comparatively small output in science fiction. He also wrote many westerns and used thepseudonyms D. B. Lewis, Harry Neal, Albert Russell, J. Russell, M. St. Vivant, ThornecliffHerrick and Alger Rome (for one collaboration with Algis Budrys). He is most famous for the1953 story "It's a Good Life" which was the basis for a 1961 episode of The Twilight Zone andwhich was included in Twilight Zone: The Movie (1983). He also wrote four episodes for the StarTrek series, Mirror, Mirror, Day of the Dove, Requiem for Methuselah, and By Any Other Name,and he co-wrote the story upon which the classic sci-fi movie Fantastic Voyage (1966),television series, and novel by Isaac Asimov were based.

    Also available on Feedbooks for Bixby:

    -Zen (1952)

    Copyright: Please read the legal notice included in this e-book and/or check the copyrightstatus in your country.

    Note:

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    Transcriber's Note:

    This etext was produced from?If Worlds of Science FictionNovember 1953. Extensive research did

    not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minorspelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.

    "IF YOU?called me here to tell me to have a child," Mary Pornsen said, "you can just forgetabout it. We girls have made up our minds."

    Hugh Farrel, Chief Medical Officer of the Exodus VII, sighed and leaned back in his chair. Helooked at Mary's husband. "And you, Ralph," he said. "How do you feel?"

    Ralph Pornsen looked at Mary uncomfortably, started to speak and then hesitated.

    Hugh Farrel sighed again and closed his eyes. It was that way with all the boys. The wives hadthe whip hand. If the husbands put up an argument, they'd simply get turned down flat: no sexat all, children or otherwise. The threat, Farrel thought wryly, made the boys softer thanwatered putty. His own wife, Alice, was one of the ringleaders of the "no babies" movement, andsince he had openly declared warfare on the idea, she wouldn't even let him kiss her good-night. (For fear of losing her determination, Farrel liked to think.)

    He opened his eyes again to look past the Pornsens, out of the curving port of his office-labin the Exodus VII's flank, at the scene outside the ship.

    At the edge of the clearing he could see Danny Stern and his crew, tiny beneath the cavernoussunbeam-shot overhang of giant leaves. Danny was standing up at the controls of the 'dozer,waving his arms. His crew was struggling to get a log set so he could shove it into place withthe 'dozer. They were repairing a break in the barricade—the place where one of New Earth'sgiant saurians had come stamping and whistling through last night to kill three colonistsbefore it could be blasted out of existence.

    It was difficult. Damned difficult. A brand-new world here, all ready to receive the refugeesfrom dying Earth. Or rather, all ready to be?made?ready, which was the task ahead of the Exodus

    VII's personnel.

    An Earth-like world. Green, warm, fertile—and crawling, leaping, hooting and snarling withferocious beasts of every variety. Farrel could certainly see the women's point in bandingtogether and refusing to produce children. Something inside a woman keeps her from wanting tobring life into peril—at least, when the peril seems temporary, and security is bothremembered and anticipated.

    Pornsen said, "I guess I feel just about like Mary does. I—I don't see any reason for having akid until we get this place ironed out and safe to live in."

    "That's going to take time, Ralph." Farrel clasped his hands in front of him and delivered thespeech he had delivered so often in the past few weeks. "Ten or twelve years before we reallyget set up here. We've got to build from the ground up, you know. We'll have to find and mineour metals. Build our machines to build shops to build more machines. There'll be resources

    ?find, and we'll have to learn what this planet has to offer in their stead.that we?won't

    Colonizing New Earth isn't simply a matter of landing and throwing together a shining city. Ionly wish it were.

    "Six weeks ago we landed. We haven't yet dared to venture more than a mile from this spot.We've cut down trees and built the barricade and our houses. After protecting ourselves we haveto eat. We've planted gardens. We've produced test-tube calves and piglets. The calves aredoing fine, but the piglets are dying one by one. We've got to find out why.

    "It's going to be a long, long time before we have even a minimum of security, much lessluxury. Longer than you think… . So much longer that waiting until the security arrives beforehaving children is out of the question. There are critters out there—" he nodded toward theport and the busy clearing beyond—"that we haven't been able to kill. We've thrown everythingwe have at them, and they come back for more. We'll have to find out what?will?kill them—how

    they differ from those we?are?able to kill. We are six hundred people and a spaceship, Ralph.We have techniques. That's?all. Everything else we've got to dig up out of this planet. We'llneed people, Mary; we'll need the children. We're counting on them. They're vital to the planswe've made."

    Mary Pornsen said, "Damn the plans. I won't have one. Not now. You've just done a nice job ofdescribing all my reasons. And all the other girls feel the same way."

    ?

    SHE LOOKED?out the window at the 'dozer and crew. Danny Stern was still waving his arms; thelog was almost in place. "George and May Wright were killed last night. So was Farelli. IfGeorge and May had had a child, the monster would have trampled it too—it went right throughtheir cabin like cardboard. It isn't fair to bring a baby into—"

    Farrel said, "Fair, Mary? Maybe it isn't fair?not?to have one.?Not?to bring it into being and

    give it a chance. Life's always a gamble—"

    "It?doesn't exist," Mary said. She smiled. "Don't try circumlocution on me, Doc. I'm notreligious. I don't believe that spermatozoa and an ovum, if not allowed to cuddle up together,add up to murder."

    "That isn't what I meant—"

    "You were getting around to it—which means you've run out of good arguments."

    "No. I've a few left." Farrel looked at the two stubborn faces: Mary's, pleasant and pretty,but set as steel; Ralph's, uncomfortable, thoughtful, but mirroring his definite willingness tofollow his wife's lead.

    Farrel cleared his throat. "You know how important it is that this colony be established? Youknow that, don't you? In twenty years or so the ships will start arriving. Hundreds of them.Because we sent a message back to Earth saying we'd found a habitable planet. Thousands ofpeople from Earth, coming here to the new world we're supposed to get busy and carve out forthem. We were selected for that task—first of judging the right planet, then of working itover. Engineers, chemists, agronomists, all of us—we're the task force. We've got to do thejob. We've got to test, plant, breed, re-balance, create. There'll be a lot of trial and error.We've got to work out a way of life, so the thousands who will follow can be introduced safelyand painlessly into the—well, into the organism. And we'll need new blood for the jobs ahead.We'll need young people—"

    Mary said, "A few years one way or the other won't matter much, Doc. Five or six years from nowthis place will be a lot safer. Then we women will start producing. But not now."

    "It won't work that way," Farrel said. "We're none of us kids any longer. I'm fifty-five.Ralph, you're forty-three. I realize that I must be getting old to think of you as young. Mary,you're thirty-seven. We took a long time getting here. Fourteen years. We left an Earth that'sdying of radioactive poisoning, and we all got a mild dose of that. The radiation we absorbedin space, little as it was, didn't help any. And that sun up there—" again he nodded at theport—"isn't any help either. Periodically it throws off some pretty damned funny stuff.

    ?have children. Or?"Frankly, we're worried. We don't know whether or not we?cannormal

    ?children. We've got to find out. If our genes have been bollixed up, we've got to find out whyand how and get to work on it immediately. It may be unpleasant. It may be heart-breaking. Butthose who will come here in twenty years will have absorbed much more of Earth's radioactivitythan we did, and an equal amount of the space stuff, and this sun will be waiting for them… .We'll have to know what we can do for them."

    "I'm not a walking laboratory, Doc," Mary said.

    "I'm afraid you are, Mary. All of you are."

    Mary set her lips and stared out the port.

    "It's got to be done, Mary."

    She didn't answer.

    "It's going to be done."

    "Choose someone else," she said.

    "That's what they all say."

    She said, "I guess this is one thing you doctors and psychologists didn't figure on, Doc."

    "Not at first," Farrel said. "But we've given it some thought."

    MacGuire had installed the button convenient to Farrel's right hand, just below the level ofthe desk-top. Farrel pressed it. Ralph and Mary Pornsen slumped in their chairs. The dooropened, and Doctor John J. MacGuire and Ted Harris, the Exodus VII's chief psychologist, camein.

    ?

    WHEN IT?was over, and the after-play had been allowed to run its course, Farrel told thePornsens to go into the next room and shower. They came back soon, looking refreshed. Farrelordered them to get back into their clothes. Under the power of the hypnotic drug which theirchairs had injected into them at the touch of the button, they did so. Then he told them to sitdown in the chairs again.

    MacGuire and Harris had gathered up their equipment, piling it on top of the operating table.

    MacGuire smiled. "I'll bet that's the best-monitored, most hygienic sex act ever committed. Ithink I've about got the space radiations effect licked."

    Farrel nodded. "If anything goes wrong, it certainly won't be our fault. But let's face it—thechances are a thousand to one that something?will?go wrong. We'll just have to wait. And work."

    He looked at the Pornsens. "They're very much in love, aren't they? And she was receptive tothe suggestion—beneath it all, she was burning to have a child, just like the others."

    MacGuire wheeled out the operating table, with its load of serums, pressure-hypos and jury-rigged thingamabobs which he was testing on alternate couples. Ted Harris stopped at the door amoment. He said, "I think the suggestions I planted will turn the trick when they find outshe's pregnant. They'll come through okay—won't even be too angry."

    Farrel sighed. They'd been over it in detail several times, of course, but apparently Harrisneeded the reassurance as much as he did. He said: "Sure. Now scram so I can go back into myact."

    Harris closed the door. Farrel sat down at his desk and studied the pair before him. Theylooked back contentedly, holding hands, their eyes dull.

Farrel said, "How do you feel?"

    Ralph Pornsen said, "I feel fine."

    Mary Pornsen said, "Oh, I feel?wonderful!"

    Deliberately Farrel pressed another button below his desk-top.

    The dull eyes cleared instantly.

    "Oh, you've given it some thought, Doc?" Mary said sweetly. "And what have you decided?"

    "You'll see," Farrel said. "Eventually."

    He rose. "That's all for now, kids. I'd like to see you again in one month—for a routinecheck-up."

    Mary nodded and got up. "You'll still have to wait, Doc. Why not admit you're licked?"

    Ralph got up too, and looked puzzled.

    "Wow," he said. "I'm tired."

    "Perhaps just coming here," Farrel said, "discharged some of the tension you've been carryingaround."

    The Pornsens left.

    Farrel brought out some papers from his desk and studied them. Then, from the file drawer, heselected the record of Hugh and Alice Farrel. Alice would be at the perfect time of hermenstrual cycle tomorrow… .

    Farrel flipped his communicator.

    "MacGuire," he said. "Tomorrow it's me."

    MacGuire chuckled. Farrel could have kicked him. He put his chin in his hands and stared outthe port. Danny Stern had the log in place in the barricade. The bulldozer was moving on to anew task. His momentary doubt stilled, Farrel went back to work.

    ?

    TWENTY-ONE?years later, when the ships from Earth began arriving, the log had been replaced bya stone monument erected to the memory of the Exodus VII, which had been cut apart for itsvaluable steel. Around the monument was a park, and on three sides of the park was a shiningtown—not really large enough to be called a city—of plastic and stone, for New Earth had noiron ore, only zinc and a little copper. This was often cause for regret.

    Still it was a pretty good world. The monster problem had been licked by high-voltage cannon.Now in their third generation since the landing, the monsters kept their distance. And thingsgrew—things good to eat.

    And even without steel, the graceful, smoothly-functioning town looked impressive—quite athing to have been built by a handful of beings with two arms and two legs each.

    It hadn't been, entirely. But nobody thought much about that any more. Even the newcomers gotused to it. Things change.

    THE END

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