When I Grow Up

by Richard E. Lowe

He faced the boy again. "Look here, Herbux. This—this power of yours. When did you first notice you had it?"

"Last year, sir. I always knew I would do it sometime. But one day I was looking at a bird perched on my windowsill, and it fell over dead, just as your parakeet did. I thought it was an accident or a coincidence. But then the next day it happened again—with a squirrel. Soon I got to where I could do it on purpose. But I don't know how."

"Well, how do you feel about it? Do you want to kill these harmless pets?"

"Oh, no, sir. I don't want to kill them. I just want to be a Destructor."

Smithy had a sudden, disquieting conviction that he was in the presence of some completely alien, dangerous being. A cold breeze seemed to shiver through the room, though he knew that his quarters were airtight and perfectly ventilated. This is ridiculous, he told himself, turning to Possy with a helpless shrug. To feel like this over such a nice-looking young lad ...

"My friend," he said, "all this has occurred so suddenly I must have time to think. Such a thing could never have happened in my school. Perhaps you should—but doubtless it has already occurred to you—turn him over to physio-psychological rebuilding?"

Possy nodded. "It has, of course. But then I said to myself, 'Possy, they are a bunch of dunderheaded old fossils over there. They can take a criminal and tear him apart and make a good citizen out of him, granted. But do they find out why he was a criminal? Have they reduced the number of new criminals? No. And they would not find out why this boy wants to be a Destructor—nor even what a Destructor is.'

"'You're right,' I told myself. 'And besides, Herbux is a nice boy. Why, with this power of his—if he wanted to do harm—there wouldn't be an animal left alive around the whole University. And if he could do it to people he's had many an opportunity to practice on me. But has he? No, not once. Besides, if you keep him in school, you can maintain a good close watch over him. Herbux has promised to keep me fully informed as to the progress of his strange power. If he feels it getting stronger, he will let me know immediately.' Isn't that right, Herbux?"

"Yes, sir," said the boy quietly.

"You are quite sure," Smithy asked, "that you know absolutely nothing about this boy's past? His parents, his birthplace—anything at all? There must be some clue."