DP

Maybe he was just curious now thatit no longer mattered.

  She avoided his eyes in the cool semigloom of the compartment."I--usually manage to have enough dates. Until some moron likeNeal-Hayne puts me under protection."

  He disengaged himself gently, rolled off the pliant couch and increasedthe room's light with the wall knob. "You should register a complaint,Nedda. After three he'll be forcibly psyched, you know." He dialed theservoconsole and focused a morning meal menu on the viewscreen. "Readyfor breakfast, pip?"

  "Mmm--if you are." Nedda came over and lifted the phone from its panelrecess. "That number six algal protein is supposed to be a new tastesensation. Like?"

  He shrugged. "Let's try it. It'll be my last go at this robot feed."

  When the meals had been deposited in the service chute she looked at himpleadingly. "Hon, why don't _you_ try being psyched? They could make yousatisfied with--things as they are."

  Allen lifted a thin transparent food cover while he shook his head."Maybe they could, Nedda. But it would have to be almost total erasureto change my slant on everything, and being forced to accept what I hateis worse than anything else I can think of. It wouldn't be me when theygot through. Whatever causes me to think like I do is the _me_, andthat'd be gone."

  Some of the resentful animosity surged up in him and he had to talkabout it. "Look at your compartment. The same as every other single inthe city--or any city. The walls are the shade of green that's best forthe eyes. Furniture and fixtures are always the same colors. Everycompartment has a servoconsole to condition the air, control thetemperature and humidity, bring you food or any other standard service,provide teleview shows, music or requests. You could live your lifeinside this square hole. Everybody has everything and nothing meansanything--can't you see that?"

  She came around the table and sat on his lap with her head against hisneck. "No, presh, but if you'll change your mind about a DP you can dateme any time, always. I'd like to share a double with you forever."

  He traced soothing circles on her smooth back with his fingertips."That's the closest I've ever come to _owning_ anything," he mused.

  "But, hon, Government owns everything and takes care of everything. Whenyou can always use a thing, how could it be better if you owned it?"

  Allen held her against him tightly, fighting the old fight to findwords. How could you explain how you _felt_ things to be right or wrong,without really knowing the reasons?

  "Maybe," he said slowly, "it's as though I wanted to keep you for myselfalone. But Nedda, if another man made the right approach, could yourefuse him?" After a minute he repeated, "Could you?"

  Eventually, she made two answers.

  They were warm and wet and dropped onto his chest.

  * * * * *

  The Adjustment Building was a soaring, chastely white structure ofsilicoid plastic, dazzling in the hot morning sun. It crossed Allen'smind fleetingly that everything built nowadays would long outlast thebuilders. That seemed right, but he didn't know why.

  He took his ID plaque from Nedda and kissed her. He had tried todissuade her from coming with him, but she had merely smiled and heldhis arm and urged him toward a double scooter.

  "This is it, beautiful," he said shortly, at the entrance. And, with anattempt at levity, "Don't take any more protection." Actually, whatcould you say? He went inside quickly, without looking back.

  At the door marked _Kansas City Department of Social Adjustment_, heslipped his plaque into the correct slot for a moment and was admitteddirectly to the waiting room for those who had appointments for the day.

  There was only one other waiting--a handsome blond youth whose knife wasnew. Allen sat down in a lounge chair across the room.

  And Nedda came in and sat down beside him.

  He could have understood almost anything but that. "How in the name offear--"

  "Do you think," she said mischievously, taking his hand, "the B Sectorchamp is the only one who can get an appointment?"

  Before it could more than flash through Allen's mind that he'd not toldher that, the blond youth was standing before them, his eyes hotly onNedda. Then, obviously confused that she was already holding hands, headdressed himself to Allen as though it was what he had intended doing.

  "Marty Bowen, sir. Uh--I'm going to see if they'll let me have a doublecompartment with some gym apparatus in it." He shifted his weight to theother foot and hung a thumb nervously in his belt, unable to keep fromdarting glances at Nedda.

  Allen noted, with rising anger and some other unpleasant emotion hecouldn't define, that she hadn't dropped her eyes. He said curtly."Fine, kid--hope you make it." The youth mumbled something else and wentback to his chair.

  He had barely seated himself when a voder speaker crooned a numbermelodiously. With a quick backward glance at Nedda, the blond lad wenton into the counsel room.

  Allen's mind remained in confusion, shot through with anger at himselfthat he should waste thoughts now on anything but the coming interview.The room was beginning to fill quietly with others.

  His number was called a few minutes later.

  And Nedda's was called along with it.

  Well--the place to get the answer was the counsel chamber. He got upslowly, barely noticing that Nedda continued to hold his hand as theywent in.

  The brilliant room was two stories high, with fluted walls and nowindows. Obviously the size was to impress interviewees. But why shouldthey have to be impressed? Wasn't the wisdom of the five tech doctorssufficient by itself? Wasn't it?

  He sat in a chair indicated by the dark-skinned one, and listened whilethe very old one in the center talked to Nedda.

  Had dating the B Sector park champion solved her difficulty with the manshe had reported? Fine. It was the second such report about him in ayear--the other also coming from a girl who was highly sexed. Did Neddanot consider herself to have a problem which required psychoconditioning?No? Well, perhaps in later years, when her beauty and her mind weresomewhat changed.... No, there would seem to be no justification forgiving her a compartment in another sector, unless she had persuaded thechampion or another to share a double with her. Would that be all? Muchhappiness to her.

  Abruptly, Allen realized Nedda had left and that the frail old man wastalking to him.

  "... unusual to have joint interviews without a more definite emotionaltie, but we felt you would like to know how you had rendered civic aid."

  So pitting him without choice against any of several men was their ideaof civic aid. No wonder he'd met so many protected girls in the past.This time, they'd harnessed Nedda's restless passion to the task ofdissuading him from a DP. Very neat.

  It made him feel better to know they'd failed where he was concerned,and his resentment abated somewhat. He said, "Glad I could help,"careful to keep his voice emotionless. Then, determined to have nofurther subtleties, "If I can have my departure permit, I won't troubleyou further."

  Maybe his approach wasn't right, but all they could do would be torefuse him. In which case there were other ways--and the hell withlegality.

  "We hope," smiled the old doctor benignly, "there may be another way.Perhaps, if we discuss your problem, we can find a solution which won'tcost the city a handsome young citizen."

  Allen made it a direct attack. "Why should the city miss any citizen? Infact, what good is the city itself--what good is any city?"

  And almost, the techs seemed startled. But a younger one said easily, "Acity, Mr. Kinderwood, permits a maximum of efficient service andpleasure, with a minimum of waste and discomfort."

  Allen leaned back and stubbornly folded his arms. "I've had enough ofpleasures and comforts without meaning, and I've nothing to do, and itdoesn't look like anyone's making any progress anywhere. Even on theplanets they're just repeating backtime stuff with modern equipment."

  The old man waved a hand at the others and looked at Allen intently. Hisvoice was softly insistent. "The one continuous thread in human historyhas been the seeking
of more pleasure and greater comfort for allmembers of the race. Our technology gives us a maximum of both. No onelabors, and the few who work prefer to do so. No one is diseased, no onestays in pain longer than the time necessary to reach a medic. Everyonecan have everything he needs, without striving and without debt. And astechnology advances, there will be even greater benefits for all. Whatmore can be done to make the citizens of Earth happy?"

  For the first time, Allen felt confused. "I don't know," he said slowly."The way you put it, it sounds right. But where does it all lead? Whatreason have I got for living? What reason does the human race have forsurviving?"

  The sociologist looked even