While Mortals Sleep Part 2

"What do you suggest suggest the Government do?" said Dr. Everett. "We're quite open to suggestion-almost pathetically so." the Government do?" said Dr. Everett. "We're quite open to suggestion-almost pathetically so."

"All right!" said Millikan. "Government action number one!"

"Number one!" echoed Dr. Everett, preparing to write.

"Get this disease out in the open, where we can fight fight it! No more secrecy!" said Millikan. it! No more secrecy!" said Millikan.

"Marvellous!" said Dr. Everett. "Call the reporters at once. We'll hold a press conference right here, give out all the facts and figures-and within minutes the whole world will know." He turned to the old chairman of the board. "Modern communications are wonderful, aren't they?" he said. "Almost as wonderful as life insurance." He reached for the telephone on the long table, took it from its cradle. "What's the name of the afternoon paper?" he said.

Millikan took the telephone away from him, hung up.

Everett smiled at him in mock surprise. "I thought that was step number one. I was just going to take it, so we could get right on to step two."

Millikan closed his eyes, ma.s.saged the bridge of his nose. The young president of American Reliable and Equitable had plenty to contemplate within the violet privacy of his eyelids. After step one, which would inevitably publicize the bad condition of the insurance companies, there would be the worst financial collapse in the country's history. As for curing the epizootic: publicity could only make the disease kill more quickly, would make it cram into a few weeks of panic deaths that would ordinarily be spread over a few queasy years. As for the grander issues, as for America's becoming weak and contemptible, as for money's being valued more highly than life itself, Millikan hardly cared. What mattered to him most was immediate and personal. All other implications of the epizootic paled beside the garish, blaring fact that the company was about to go under, taking Millikan's brilliant career with it. had plenty to contemplate within the violet privacy of his eyelids. After step one, which would inevitably publicize the bad condition of the insurance companies, there would be the worst financial collapse in the country's history. As for curing the epizootic: publicity could only make the disease kill more quickly, would make it cram into a few weeks of panic deaths that would ordinarily be spread over a few queasy years. As for the grander issues, as for America's becoming weak and contemptible, as for money's being valued more highly than life itself, Millikan hardly cared. What mattered to him most was immediate and personal. All other implications of the epizootic paled beside the garish, blaring fact that the company was about to go under, taking Millikan's brilliant career with it.

The telephone on the table rang. Breed answered, received information without comment, hung up. "Two more planes just crashed," he said. "One in Georgia-fifty-three aboard. One in Indiana-twenty-nine aboard."

"Survivors?" said Dr. Everett.

"None," said Breed. "That's eleven crashes this month-so far."

"All right! All right! All right!" said Millikan, rising to his feet. "Government action number one-ground all airplanes! No more air travel at all!"

"Good!" said Dr. Everett. "We should also put bars on all windows above the first floor, remove all bodies of water from centers of population, outlaw the sales of firearms, rope, poisons, razors, knives, automobiles and boats-"

Millikan subsided into his chair, hope gone. He took a photograph of his family from his billfold, studied it listlessly. In the background of the photograph was his hundred-thousand-dollar waterfront home, and, beyond that, his forty-eight-foot cabin cruiser lying at anchor. waterfront home, and, beyond that, his forty-eight-foot cabin cruiser lying at anchor.

"Tell me," Breed said to young Dr. Everett, "are you married?"

"No," said Dr. Everett. "The Government has a rule now against letting married men work on epizootic research."

"Oh?" said Breed.

"They found out that married men working on the epizootic generally died of it before they could even submit a report," said Dr. Everett. He shook his head. "I just don't understand, just don't understand. Or sometimes I do-and then I don't again."

"Does the deceased have to be married in order for you to credit his death to the epizootic?" said Breed.

"A wife and and children," said Dr. Everett. "That's the cla.s.sic pattern. A wife alone doesn't mean much. Curiously, a wife and just one child doesn't mean much, either." He shrugged. "Oh, I suppose a few cases where a man has been unusually devoted to his mother or some other relative, or maybe even to his college, should be cla.s.sified technically as the epizootic-but cases like that aren't statistically important. To the epidemiologist who deals only in staggering figures, the epizootic is overwhelmingly a disease of successful, ambitious married men with more than one child." children," said Dr. Everett. "That's the cla.s.sic pattern. A wife alone doesn't mean much. Curiously, a wife and just one child doesn't mean much, either." He shrugged. "Oh, I suppose a few cases where a man has been unusually devoted to his mother or some other relative, or maybe even to his college, should be cla.s.sified technically as the epizootic-but cases like that aren't statistically important. To the epidemiologist who deals only in staggering figures, the epizootic is overwhelmingly a disease of successful, ambitious married men with more than one child."

Millikan took no interest in their conversation. With monumental irrelevance, he now placed the photograph of his family in front of the two bachelors. It showed a quite ordinary mother with three quite ordinary children, one an infant. "Look those wonderful people in the eye!" he said hoa.r.s.ely.

Breed and Dr. Everett glanced at each other strickenly, then did as Millikan told them. They looked at the photograph bleakly, having just confirmed for each other the fact that Millikan was mortally ill with the epizootic. then did as Millikan told them. They looked at the photograph bleakly, having just confirmed for each other the fact that Millikan was mortally ill with the epizootic.

"Look those wonderful people in the eye," said Millikan, as tragically resonant as the Ancient Mariner now. "That's something I've I've always been able to do-until now," he said. always been able to do-until now," he said.

Breed and Dr. Everett continued to look into the uninteresting eyes, preferring the sight of them to the sight of a man who was going to die very soon.

"Look at Robert!" Millikan commanded, speaking of his eldest son. "Imagine having to tell that fine boy that he can't go to Andover anymore, that he's got to go to public school from now on! Look at Nancy!" he commanded, speaking of his only daughter. "No more horse, no more sailboat, no more country club for her. And look at little Marvin in his dear mother's arms," he said. "Imagine bringing a baby into this world and then realizing that you won't be able to give it any advantages at all!" His voice became jagged with self-torment and shame. "That poor little kid is going to have to fight every inch of the way!" he said. "They all all are. When American Reliable and Equitable goes smash, there isn't a thing their father will be able to do for them! Tooth and nail all the way for them!" he cried. are. When American Reliable and Equitable goes smash, there isn't a thing their father will be able to do for them! Tooth and nail all the way for them!" he cried.

Now Millikan's voice became soft with horror. He invited the two bachelors to look at his wife-a bland, lazy, plump dumpling, incidentally. "Imagine having a wonderful woman like that, a real pal who's stuck with you through thick and thin, who's borne your children and made a decent home for them," he said. "Imagine," he said after a long silence, "imagine being a hero to her, imagine giving her all the things she's longed for all her life. And then imagine telling her," he whispered, "that you've lost it all." the things she's longed for all her life. And then imagine telling her," he whispered, "that you've lost it all."

Millikan sobbed. He ran from the boardroom into his office, took a loaded revolver from his desk. As Breed and Dr. Everett burst in upon him, he blew his brains out, thereby maturing life insurance policies in the amount of one cool million.

And there lay one more case of the epizootic, the epidemic practice of committing suicide in order to create wealth.

"You know-" said the chairman of the board, "I used to wonder what was going to become of all the Americans like him, a bright and s.h.i.+ny new race that believed that life was a matter of making one's family richer and richer and richer, or it wasn't life. I often wondered what would become of them, if bad times ever came again, if the bright and s.h.i.+ny men suddenly discovered their net worths going down." Breed pointed to the floor. Now he pointed to the ceiling. "Instead of up," he said.

Bad times had come-about four months in advance of the epizootic.

"The one-way men-designed for up only," said Breed.

"And their one-way wives and their one-way children," said Dr. Everett. "Dear G.o.d-" he said, going to a window and looking out over a wintry Hartford, "the princ.i.p.al industry of this country is now dying for a living."

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(ill.u.s.tration credit 5)

HUNDRED-DOLLAR KISSES.

Q:Do you understand that everything you say is going to be taken down by that stenographer over there?

A:Yes sir.

Q:And that anything you say may be used against you?

A:Understood.

Q:Your name, age, and address?

A:Henry George Lovell, Jr., thirty-three, living at 4121 North Pennsylvania Street, Indianapolis, Indiana.

Q:Occupation?

A:Until about two o'clock this afternoon, I was manager of the Records Section of the Indianapolis Office of the Eagle Mutual Casualty and Indemnity Company of Ohio.

Q:In the Circle Tower?

A:Right.

Q:Do you know me?

A:You are Detective Sergeant George Miller of the Indianapolis Police Department.

Q:Has anyone maltreated you or threatened you with maltreatment or offered you favors in order to obtain this statement?

A:Nope.

Q:Did you, at approximately two o'clock this afternoon, a.s.sault a man named Verne Petrie with a telephone?

A:I hit him on the head with the part you talk and listen in.

Q:How many times did you strike him with it?

A:Once. I hit him one good one.

Q:What is Verne Petrie to you?

A:Verne Petrie to me is what is wrong with the world.

Q:I mean, what was Verne Petrie to you in the organization of the office?

A:We were on the same junior executive level. We were in different sections. He wasn't my boss, and I wasn't his boss.

Q:You were competing for advancement?

A:No. We were in two entirely different fields.

Q:How would you describe him?

A:You want me to describe Verne with feeling, or just for the record?

Q:Any way you want to do it.

A:Verne Petrie is a big, pink, fat man about thirty-five years old. He has silky orange hair and two long upper front teeth like a beaver. He wears a red vest and chain-smokes very small cigars. He spends at least fifteen dollars a month on girlie magazines.

Q:Girlie magazines?

A:Man About Town. Bull. Virile. Vital. Vigor. Male Valor. You know.

Q:And you say Verne Petrie spends fifteen dollars a month on such magazines?

A:At least. The things generally cost fifty cents or more, and I never saw Verne come back from a lunch hour when he didn't have at least one new one. Sometimes he had three. when he didn't have at least one new one. Sometimes he had three.

Q:You don't like girls?

A:Sure I like girls. I'm crazy about girls. I married one, and I've got two nice little ones.

Q:Why should you resent it that Verne buys these magazines?

A:I don't resent it. It just seems kind of sick to me.

Q:Sick?

A:Girlie pictures are like dope to Verne. I mean, anybody likes to look at pin-up pictures off and on, but Verne, he has to buy armloads of them. He spends a fortune on them, and they're realer than anything real to him. When it says at the bottom of a pin-up picture, "Come play with me, Baby," or something like that, Verne believes it. He really thinks the girl is saying that to him.

Q:He's married?

A:To a nice, pretty, affectionate girl. He's got a swell-looking wife at home. It isn't as though he's bottled up in the Y.M.C.A.

Q:There is never anything else in the magazines besides pictures of girls?

A:Oh sure-there's other stuff. Haven't you ever looked inside one?

Q:I'm asking you.

A:They're all pretty much alike. They all have at least one big picture of a naked girl, usually right in the middle. That's what sells the magazine, is that big picture. Then there'll be some articles about foreign cars or decorating a bachelor penthouse or white slavery in Hong Kong or how to choose a loudspeaker. But what Verne wants is the pictures of the girls. To him, looking at those pictures is just like taking the girls out on dates. c.u.mmerbunds. the pictures of the girls. To him, looking at those pictures is just like taking the girls out on dates. c.u.mmerbunds.

Q:Pardon me? What was that last? c.u.mmerbunds?

A:That's another thing they generally have articles on-c.u.mmerbunds.

Q:You seem to have read these magazines rather extensively yourself.

A:I had the desk right next to Verne's. The magazines were all over the place. And every time he brought a new one back to the office, he'd rub my nose in it.

Q:Actually rub your nose in it?

A:Practically. And he always said the same thing.

Q:What was the thing he always said?

A:I don't want to say it in front of a lady stenographer.

Q:Can't you approximate it?

A:Verne would open the magazine to the picture of the girl, and he'd say, approximately, "Boy, I'd pay a hundred dollars to kiss a doll baby like that. Wouldn't you?"

Q:This bothered you?

A:After a couple of years, it was getting under my skin.

Q:Why?

A:Because it showed a darn poor sense of values.

Q:Do you think you are G.o.d Almighty, empowered to go around correcting people's sense of values?

A:I do not think I am G.o.d Almighty. I do not even think I am a very good Unitarian.

Q:Suppose you tell us what happened when you came back from lunch this afternoon?

A:I found Verne Petrie sitting at his desk with a new copy of of Male Valor Male Valor magazine open in front of him. It was open to a two-page picture of a woman named Patty Lee Minot. She was wearing a cellophane bathrobe. Verne was listening to his telephone and looking at the picture at the same time. He had his hand over the mouthpiece. He winked at me, as though he was hearing something wonderful on the telephone. He signalled to me that I should listen in on my own telephone. He held up three fingers, meaning I should switch my phone to line three. magazine open in front of him. It was open to a two-page picture of a woman named Patty Lee Minot. She was wearing a cellophane bathrobe. Verne was listening to his telephone and looking at the picture at the same time. He had his hand over the mouthpiece. He winked at me, as though he was hearing something wonderful on the telephone. He signalled to me that I should listen in on my own telephone. He held up three fingers, meaning I should switch my phone to line three.

Q:Line three?