Children of Tomorrow

  CHILDREN OF TOMORROW

  by

  A. E. Van Vogt

  NEW ENGLISH LIBRARY

  TIMES MIRROR

  Le Scrob

  Something was looking at a street in Spaceport, Earth. It watched through an invisible lens that saw everything clearly, even though it was night.

  For several moments, the focus of the watcher’s attention was a fine upper-middle-class home. Then the view swung slowly around, and there was the street. First, the observer paused briefly to notice several other houses of equal excellence to the first. Then it turned its attention to the far end of the street, where there was an intersection and a low metal structure at one corner.

  The structure was square, and it was about the height of one and a half men. On a paling above it were the words in a luminescent material: SUBSURFACE.

  The meaning of this seemed to interest the watcher; for it now utilised its mysterious system of observation to jump the distance at a speed that was as fast as the blink of an eye.

  At this close range, it was possible to make out the shape of a sliding door in the structure, and beside the door a sign that read:

  HIGH SPEED MONORAIL SERVICE Downtown 8 minutes New York 5 hours Note Intercity Lines Require Transfer

  There was a faint rumble below, an even fainter hissing sound, and then the sliding doors slid back, away from each other. Each disappeared into a slot in the metal structure.

  Inside the doors was an elevator with seven people in it; five men and two women. These emerged and quickly separated. All except two of the men moved briskly off along the intersecting street, out of the watcher’s line of vision.

  The two men came forward along the street of fine homes. As they did so, the viewer drew back in front of them at the exact

  speed of their walk. Its interest seemed to be in them.

  The thing that was watching was not qualified to evaluate a human being in any complete way. But its information included an awareness that here were two men: one in his early forties; the other, older, with a touch of gray at his temples. The younger man was good-looking, and carried himself with an air of decision and confidence. There was a suggestion of overaggressiveness in his bearing, and something about him urged moment by moment that he didn’t like people to oppose him. Except for that, he seemed very mature and capable.

  The older man seemed of a milder disposition, but he was well- dressed and his manner showed success and conveyed that he had his own views and his own experience for coping with the world and the people in it. It was he who spoke, shaking his head a little, chidingly.

  ‘It seems strange, John,’ he said, ‘that after nearly ten years your first act is to use me as a buffer between you and Estelle, just as it was your last act before you left.’

  The man addressed as John, protested. T don’t remember it that way, Dez. I thought we all went somewhere and celebrated before my departure. But I have to admit - I’m going to need your help tonight. I called Estelle this morning when we grounded and indicated I’d be home in an hour. That was a mistake, because I got held up. And Estelle’s tone of voice this morning told me that she still doesn’t understand things like that.’ ‘Oh, she’s changed, too,’ was the reply. In fact, there have been a lot of changes here in Spaceport, Mr Commander Lane. For example, your daughter, who was six, is now sixteen, and belongs to an outfit.’

  ‘To a what?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  John Lane shrugged with, as always, impatience; but his manner remained friendly. ‘My dear Mr Desmond Reid, my old friend, my adviser, my supporter at key moments, you may continue to be mysterious, but it doesn’t matter. As I understand it, I remain fleet commander but spend time at a desk. Thus I shall discover all these matters for myself, and’ — his voice grew firm - ‘in each and every instance, I shall do exactly what I think is indicated. My wife, my daughter, my job, certain things that I left unfinished out in space... ’

  Desmond Reid said in his mild fashion, ‘I see you have 3ome shocks coming, John. Since you went out there, your type has been psychologically categorised. The fullness of a new truth his moved into what was formerly an information vacuum.’

  Lane was calm. ‘I’m always open to good scientific thought.

  Never rejected a new weapon in my life until it was fully investigated and tested.’

  ‘Good!’ said Desmond Reid, and because his tone had more force in it than would normally be required, the younger man gave him a quick, searching look. But he said nothing.

  In silence the two men now turned into the yard of the house which the invisible watcher had first concentrated on. As they climbed onto the porch, a woman came out of the door, put her arms around John Lane and began immediately to sob. He held her tightly, and so it was difficult to see exactly what she looked like, other than that she had blonde hair and was slender of build.

  Presently, Lane half carried, half led her into the house. Desmond Reid followed, closing the door.

  The thing that was viewing the scene made no attempt to follow the trio inside. In fact it now drew back to the street, and waited.

  Inside the house there continued to occur a number of the things that a husband and wife do and say when they have not seen each other for nearly ten years. But kissing and words of muffled happiness can only go on so long between the most joyous of couples. And truth was they were not that joyous.

  Desmond Reid, watching from off to one side, saw that the moment of reality was approaching. He observed it first in the man. Lane seemed slightly bored, and accepted the woman’s kisses with distinctly less enthusiasm. In fact, he must have realised that something had to be done, because gently but firmly he drew his wife over to a couch, and said, ‘Where’s Susan?’

  The woman, drying her tears and still sniffling, murmured, ‘Oh, she’s with her outfit. They had late business tonight.’

  Lane frowned, and glanced at his watch. ‘It’s after eleven,’ he said. ‘Maybe I’ve got this mixed up, but that’s pretty late even for a sixteen-year-old.’

  She made a dismissing gesture, and leaned against his chest, hugged him. ‘Don’t worry about Susan,’ she said. ‘She asked me to give you her love.'

  From where he sat in a chair across from the couple Reid noticed a peculiar expression take form on Lane’s face. He made a gesture, and caught Lane’s eye. But it was too late. The thought was there, and a shake of the head from a wiser man could nots stop it.

  Lane said, ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand.’ He unmistakably saw the warning expression in Reid’s face, but his voice merely went up as he continued. ‘I have been in distant parts of space for 3488 days and nights. And now you tell me that on the evening of the day that I return, my only daughter is off somewhere. She could not cancel some minor meeting with other children in order to be here when I came.’

  The woman visibly stiffened, and then she drew away from her husband’s chest, and for the first time showed her full face. Thus seen, she was identifiable as being in her late thirties, rather good-looking despite the swollen eyes. Nonetheless, it was a sad face. It showed the effects of her years of separation from the man she had married: grief, sorrow, frustration .. . and resentment.

  It was the resentment that now tightened her lips and narrowed her eyes slightly. ‘Darling,’ she said, ‘all day long I’ve been making my peace with the false promises you made in your phone call this morning. And I decided eight times not to bring it up, but now I notice in the tone of your voice that same dominating quality that was there when you left. And I must tell you, dear, that in your absence you have been categorised as being an unsuitable type for a father. So just be calm. Mind your own business out there in the world, which you have always preferred to
being at home. And leave Susan to me and her outfit.’ She smiled at him through her tension. ‘Okay?’

  From across the room, Desmond Reid clapped his hands. ‘Bravo, Estelle, that’s well said, and presents exactly the point that should be put over to John before he gets himself all upset and off on the wrong track.’

  Reid turned to Lane, and said, ‘John, your wife is a wise woman, and has just given you good advice. Why don’t you decide right now to heed it?’

  Lane was silent. There was a faraway expression on his face. But presently his gaze flicked from his wife to Desmond Reid, and back again. At first he seemed in a mild state of shock, then his jaw tightened.

  He said, Let me understand this. You are saying that I, specifically, have been named as an unsuitable father?’

  It was Reid who replied. ‘All space personnel residing here in Spaceport have been categorised on the basis of past records and tests, and you are in the category of - ’

  He stopped, and Estelle finished‘ - the category of what you said.’

  ‘And Susan knows this?’ asked Lane. A touch of color was in his cheeks.

  ‘Of course.’ It was the woman. ‘That’s necessary so she doesn’t develop any fantasies about you.’

  Like admiring me, for example,’ said Lane in a dangerous tone, ‘as a dedicated officer.’

  Estelle’s color was suddenly higher. ‘That dedicated part,’ she said, ‘we must discuss some time.’ Her tone indicated that she would be glad, personally, to point out a few truths about it.

  She must have realised from the expression on her husband’s face that something was about to explode, for she caught his arm, and said, ‘Now, look, Mr Lane, you are home, you are welcome. We are glad to have you back. Susan has missed her father. I’ve been taking my resentment pills regularly like a good little wife. So let’s not get all carried away by unnecessary emotions.'

  Across from them, Desmond Reid stood up. To Lane he said, Tour wife is saying all this so well, I think I can safely leave you in her hands.’

  As the older man climbed to his feet, Lane had automatically

  with the courtesy of his military training - jumped to his feet A faint, wry smile twisted his Ups. “Your timing, as usual, is perfect,’ he said. ‘And you may count on me to handle this entire matter objectively.’

  Reid said doubtfully, ‘1 question if that's quite possible for you, John. Remember, this is not a fleet matter.’

  Lane continued as if he had not heard, ‘As for Susan, I shall have a conversation with her when she comes in later on, and we’ll come to some agreement as to how late a young lady should be out at night.’

  Reid shrugged, and glanced at Estelle. ‘Well, my dear,’ he said, I’ve tried.’

  She was also on her feet, and she spread her hands. It doesn’t look like he got the picture,’ she said in a baffled tone.

  Once more, Lane glanced from his wife’s face to that of his friend. There was a frustrated expression on his face. ‘All right, if you two are so clever and I’m so stupid, tell me where Susan is right now and what she’s doing.’

  Estelle said, ‘She’s with her outfit.’

  Reid said, That’s ail you’ll ever need to know, John.!

  He walked to the door that led to the hallway, turned, bowed to Estelle, said, ‘Goodbye, John. I’m glad you’re back.’ Once more, turning, he went out into the hall, and then opened the outside door. As he walked onto the porch beyond, he reached back, and drew the door shut behind him. The automatic lock clicked.

  A few minutes before Demond Reid emerged from the home of Commander and Mrs Lane, the invisible observer abruptly abandoned its vantage point across the street. It did its remarkable movement thing - and the next instant was three blocks away.

  It seemed to know exactly where to go, for the invisible ‘lens’ was focused unerringly on a chase sequence that had, seemingly, just begun. A young teenage boy was running at uneven pace away from a group of slightly older boys and girls - running directly toward the observer. The very moment the watcher took note of this action, an older boy broke free of the group and raced in pursuit of the runaway.

  The younger boy’s method of running was almost unnecessarily awkward. He was scrawny of build, and evidently weak, for he staggered and even lost his balance a few times. His pursuer caught him easily, and brought him down with a tackling leap onto the grass beside a pretty white fence.

  The captured boy continued to struggle, and actually managed to crawl three feet with the other one holding onto him. This brought him within the ten foot range of the watcher, who was thereby able to project a thought at him.

  Do you need help, son? "

  No, my father.

  Then all is well?

  It seemed like a good moment to have someone touch me. Thus, during a confusion, I can test my ability to delude the senses of he who touches. His name is Mike Sutter, and he is one pf the two leading members of this outfit. I think I have succeeded, because I am convincing his perceptive system that I have the shape of a human being.

  Good. Are my various suggestions applicable?

  Yes. In running away, I pretended that I was afraid of the human father, with whom you have lodged me. My pretense is that if I am home late, he will punish me. I am pretending that the Red Cat outfit, which is what this group is called, will not be able to protect me from him, and they say they can.

  The observer was pleased, and telepathed:

  Since touching and feeling are the decisive perceptions - after

  vision - ril watch until this episode completes.

  Thank you, my father.

  Even as the silent conversation proceeded, the older boy, Mike, stood up, and simultaneously pulled his captive to his feet, held him there while the group of teenage boys and girls walked toward them.

  The alien being, who had so swiftly come to help - if needed - his child, surveyed the young people with a grim interest. As with the older men, Lane and Reid . . . earlier ... he was not wholly competent to assess human beings of any age. Which, of course, was why it had been decided to infiltrate the human city of Spaceport.

  They must find out exactly what the human race was - how helpless or capable it was, its defenses, and its weaponry.

  The watcher looked, first, at Mike Sutter. It saw a slender, wiry, olive-complexioned youth, intense and handsome. Remembering what its own child had reported about Mike - that he was one of the leaders - the observer noted the bright, gray eyes of the boy, and a certain impatience — which reminded it of a similar emotion radiated by John Lane.

  The alien knew that its own child bore the human name of Bud Jaeger, but it did not have any identification of the other teenagers, except what was visible. Since it was unlikely that everyone of the young people would be addressed by name, the watcher made do with the visual and the auditory, determined in future to know them anywhere.

  The first boy to come up to Mike and Bud was thickset and strong-looking. Since he lacked the intensity of Mike, and seemed in fact to be stolidly unemotional, the alien decided that he was not too intelligent. Following the same line of reasoning by opposites and association, it noted that of the five other boys and four girls also stayed back out of the way. The remaining two girls moved briskly up to Mike. One was blonde and of medium height; the other brunette, and small.

  At the exact moment that the girls walked up, Bud made an attempt to break away. But Mike hung on grimly. His effort having failed, Bud kicked at Mike’s shins. It was a glancing blow at best, but it must have been painful. Mike winced, then drew one hand back and struck Bud in the chest.

  Once again, it must have been painful for Mike, for he pulled his hand and shook it violently - as if he were striving hastily to vibrate the pain out of it.

  The two girls seemed not to notice his sudden physical anguish. The blonde girl half turned back toward the good-looking blond boy, who had stopped a few feet away and was watching the interchange with a manner that had a firmness in it that ye
t suspended immediate judgement.

  She said, ‘Lee, I don’t think Mike should be allowed to hit Bud.’

  Before Lee could answer, Mike said in an outraged tone, ‘Susan, before you jump to any conclusions, please notice: I’m the only one that’s been hurt so far. Bud kicked me in the ankles

  and he’s got bones in all the wrong places. ’Cause when I hit him just now, I nearly broke my knuckles - ’

  The alien, who had been anxiously aware of the two actions, projected a thought at its child:

  Aren’t you making too many tests in a short space of time?

  No, father. For a few moments there, and actually still, there was another period of confusion. Mike’s attention was on the other members of the outfit. I want to establish in Mike's mind that it hurts to hit me. I analyse that he's the impulsive one, who may lash out at me without waiting for instructions from Lee David, the leader of this outfit.

  Lee David. That is the husky blond youth who has just come up?

  Yes.

  And that girl, who was addressed as Susan - the blonde girl. Is that Susan Lane?

  Yes. And the girl beside her is Marianne Baker. Although he doesn't seem interested, she’s trying to be Mike's girl.

  You’ve learned a great deal on your first evening,

  This is my time for indoctrination.

  All right, son.

  The watcher was more at peace now. The minutes were passing; and the pseudo-human, Bud Jaeger, was handling the situation with a skill that would have been admirable in an older alien.

  It was that Lee David was reading his watch. The blond youth, who seemed to be the oldest member of the outfit, looked up, and said in a voice that was surprisingly deep-toned, ‘Well, jabbers, it’s twenty-five to twelve. I think that’s long enough to keep Bud out this evening. Sack, Mike?’

  The wiry, dark-haired boy hesitated. Lee, why not until twelve?’ he asked finally. ‘Our usual time for stoppers.’

  Lee smiled. ‘Bud is scared enough. I think we’ve got the same result.’ He glanced around at the others, seeking agreement. ‘Sack?’