There was a gasp of indrawn breath from his audience. He said, "Barb, will you tell them of your findings?" and sat down.
Barb Poindexter, the psychiatrist, stood up slowly. She smoothed her hands down her plump hips nervously.
"I have been examining the captives." Her voice gained in confidence as she went on. "But, first, how many of you are not familiar with Marties' law of equilibrium?"
At least half of them expressed their ignorance. "Then I'd better explain it," she replied.
"Amiel Marties, who founded the school of mechanistic psychology, formulated the law that whenever the equilibrium between life and death is upset by war, famine, or pestilence, nature makes an effort to restore the balance." She paused as several blank expressions still met her eyes.
"In other words, when some catastrophe decimates the population, a wave of seeming licentiousness grips everyone. Men and women appear to be hurled into each other's arms by the force of their desires. It's nature's attempt to restore life."
The psychologist's voice was very earnest. She talked, Matt thought, as if she were reading a paper. As a plant biologist, he was familiar with Marties' law of equilibrium.
"The catastrophe that depopulated the Earth is—is...." She groped for an adjective, and gave up. "There's been nothing like it before. Although we didn't witness the plague, we've been touched ourselves. We lived together intimately for three years with no liaisons that I'm aware of.
"But, when we return to find humanity destroyed, we become obsessed with the necessity of producing children, restoring the equilibrium.
"These women"—she waved a plump hand toward the Amazons—"lived through the plague. They don't realize it, but they are psychologically twisted by that awful pestilence.