"Say!" said Barlow. "Those movies about babies—was that your propaganda?"
"It was. It doesn't seem to mean a thing to them. We have abandoned the idea of attempting propaganda contrary to a biological drive."
"So if you work with a biological drive—?"
"I know of none which is consistent with inhibition of fertility."
Barlow's face went poker-blank, the result of years of careful discipline. "You don't, huh? You're the great brains and you can't think of any?"
"Why, no," said the psychist innocently. "Can you?"
"That depends. I sold ten thousand acres of Siberian tundra—through a dummy firm, of course—after the partition of Russia. The buyers thought they were getting improved building lots on the outskirts of Kiev. I'd say that was a lot tougher than this job."
"How so?" asked the hawk-faced man.
"Those were normal, suspicious customers and these are morons, born suckers. You just figure out a con they'll fall for; they won't know enough to do any smart checking."