The Birds and the Bees
BY DAVE E. FISHER
Which goes to prove that, in some
instances, being heroic is easy!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, August 1957.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
I was wandering among the tall grass of the slopes, listening to thesoft whistling of the wind; allowing the grass to caress my toga andthighs. It was a day soft and clear; a day accepted by the young,cherished by we old. Across the gently undulating hills stood themagnificent Melopolis, encradling the Oracle of Delni. I do not, ofcourse, believe in the gods per se; still there is a grandeur in thevery stones that transcends their human sculptors, and it is no wonderto me that many cling tenaciously, and ignorantly, to the old religion.Cling to the gods of old, who drew man upward from wherever he began.In whose names Man killed and plundered, while struggling up. In whosenames Man finally left this earth, to seek his cousins among the stars.
But of course there were no cousins. There was nothing. And Manreturned, and settled down to live. Saddened, but resigned and contentto live in peace with his knowledge and his power. Gone now are all theancient evils, wars, emergencies.
"Sias! Sias—" And they were upon me.
That is, Xeon was upon me. But I knew that where Xeon is, Melia mustsoon appear. And indeed it was but a moment before Melia slippedthrough the high grass to stand at his side. Their youthful voices werebabbling in excitement.
Melia was a She, with the swelling breasts that were, so traditionstates, quite prevalent among members of the race long ago, and areseldom seen today. Indeed, Melia was on this account made the butt ofmany jokes and, I fear, would have had a lonely life of it had it notbeen for the friendship of Xeon.
"Sias," they were saying, "the Maternite's gone."
I stared in amazement.
"Gone? It cannot be gone. It has always been—"
"Oh my gods!" Xeon shouted. "I tell you it's gone! Will you—"
Melia interrupted him quietly. "Xeon, will you lose all respect forthe Elder?" Then turned to me, and said calmly, "The watcher at theMaternite Machine, it appears, has been drunk. The heat rose above thewarning, continued to rise, and then—poof. Everything has evaporatedin Maternite. All the Prelife is gone."
"All of it?" I asked.
"There is nothing left," Melia insisted. "Can more be made? And if not,what will happen with no more children?"
"That is for the priests to say, not I," I replied. In moments ofemergency, it is wise to speak with caution. That is, I suppose so. Ihave never before been in a real emergency.
A man my age does not hurry in the heat of the midday sun—maddugsnenglishmin go out in the midday sun, as the ancients say, although Ioften wonder why—but Xeon and Melia ran all the way down to the city.They are of an age to enter manhood, and have all the energy such youngmen do.
As we entered the city, we were surrounded by confusion andconsternation. And can the simple people be blamed? They were awarethat they stood in the midst of an unprecedented happening; indeed, anemergency. For a machine had failed!
Not in the memory of the eldest among us has a machine failed. Theywere created so long ago, indeed, that the ignorant believe themto have been constructed by the gods themselves. And never, so faras I know, has one failed. Small wonder that the watcher h