City of Endless Night

by Milo Hastings

~5~

There remained but one card unsigned of the three given me.

Frau Matilda, daughter of Siegfried Oberwinder, Analine Analyst, was registered as eighteen and evidently an inexperienced mother-elect as I was a father-elect. The nature of the man is to hold the virgin above the madonna, and in starting on my third journey to the maternity level, I found hitherto inexperienced feelings tugging at my heartstrings and resolved that whatever she might be, I would be dignified and formal yet most courteous and kind.

My ring was answered by a slender, frightened girl. She was so shy that she could only nod for me to enter. I offered my card and folder, smiling to reassure her, but she retreated precipitously into a far corner and sat staring at me beseechingly with big grey eyes that seemed the only striking feature of her small pinched face.

"I am sorry if I frighten you," I said, "but of course you know that I am sent by the eugenic authorities. I will not detain you long. All that is really necessary is for you to sign this card."

She timidly signed the card and returned it to the corner of the table.

I felt extremely sorry for the fluttering creature; and, knowing that I could not alter her lot, I sought to speak words of encouragement. "If you find it hard now," I said, "it is only because you are young and a stranger to life, but you will be recompensed when you know the joys of motherhood."

At my words a look of consecrated purpose glowed in the girl's white face. "Oh, yes," she said eagerly. "I wish very much to be a mother. I have studied so hard to learn. I wish only to give myself to the holy duties of maternity. But I am so afraid."

"But you need not be afraid of me," I said. "This is only a formal call which I have made because the Eugenic Staff ordered it so. But it seems to me that some better plan might be made for these meetings. Some social life might be arranged so that you would become acquainted with the men who are to be the fathers of your children under less embarrassing circumstances."

"I try so hard not to be afraid of men, for I know they are necessary to eugenics."

"Yes," I said dryly, "I suppose they are, though I think I would prefer to put it that the love of man and woman is necessary to parenthood."

"Oh, no," she said in a frightened voice, "not that, that is very wicked."

"So you were taught that you should not love men? No wonder you are afraid of them."

"I was taught to respect men for they are the fathers of children," she replied.

"Then," I asked, deciding to probe the philosophy of the education for maternity, "why are not the fathers permitted to enjoy their fatherhood and live with the mother and the children?"

Frau Matilda now gazed at me with open-mouthed astonishment. "What a beautiful idea!" she exclaimed with rapture.

"Yes, I rather like it myself--the family--"

"The family!" cried the girl in horror.

"That is what we were talking about."

"But the family is forbidden. It is very wrong, very uneugenic. You must be a wicked man to speak to me of that."

"You have been taught some very foolish ideas," I replied.

"How dare you!" she cried, in alarm. "I have been taught what is right, and I want to do what is right and loyal. I passed all my examinations. I am a good mother-elect, and you say these forbidden things to me. You talk of love and families. You insult me. And if you select me, I shall--I shall claim exemption,--"and with that she rose and darted through the inner door.

I waited for a time and then gently approached the door, which I saw had swung to with springs and had neither latch nor lock. My gentle rap upon the hollow panel was answered by a muffled sob. I realized the hopelessness of further words and silently turned from the door and left the apartment.

The streets of the level were almost deserted for the curfew had rung and the lights glowed dim as in a hospital ward at night. I hurried silently along, shut in by enclosing walls and the lowering ceiling of the street. From everywhere I seemed to feel upon me the beseeching, haunting grey eyes of Frau Matilda. My soul was troubled, for it seemed to stagger beneath the burden of its realization of a lost humanity. And with me walked grey shadows of other men, felt-footed through the gloom, and they walked hurriedly as men fleeing from a house of death.