Children of Tomorrow (30 page)

They ran out of the door together.

In the distant reaches of the solar system, beyond Jupiter..»

Negotiations were, in fact, under way. Alien-built computers were swifdy modified by engineers of the race to fit the microfilm that Lane had in his briefcase. In minutes after that, the computers had selected out all relevant film.

Grayish-pink, hostile, tense intelligences sat across a table from John Lane and Reid, and were shown hours and hours of
film
which established how earth expeditions explored planets of other suns. The cinematic record continued automatically while Lane and Reid slept. The human need for sleep oddly reassured the aliens. It made them feel a little superior.., We’re better! seemed to be a relieving thought for them. They had heard about human sleep. Now, they saw it

When the two men finally awakened, they were asked an astonishing question: ‘What are the outfits? By what theory do they operate?’

The two men consulted on the matter in a low-voiced conference. “What could be the purpose of such a question ... so irrelevant?’ Reid asked anxiously.

Lane’s reply: ‘One of their Own boys proved so vulnerable to

the system that they have probably set up a board of inquiry to discover why he became a traitor.’ He broke off. ‘I’m sure you can give a better description of the outfit system than I can. So why don’t you tell them?’

After Reid had done so, Lane asked, ‘All right, now, why did you want to know this?’

‘Because,’ the spokesman said, ‘we have a long history of our young people being wild and violent. Not’ — the statement was made - ‘until we evolved our present method of a boy being with his father during his difficult period, did the situation rectify . ., But, of course,’ he went on, ‘such a solution is a nightmare in terms of the time involved. For several generations, many adult Dren have had to be legally required to have at least one offspring.

‘So,’ he said, ‘you may imagine our excitement when we realised that the Dren boy you know as Bud, actually responded to the outfit environment. Suddenly, we adults saw our first hope of being free in an intolerable parental burden.’

The spokesman continued, “We will sign a nonaggression treaty with earth, provided Dren boys and girls can be sent in large numbers to earth to join outfits . . . and provided earth family units move to Dren and bring their outfit-trained children to help organise outfits among our young Dren .. . and provided qualified adult human outfit specialists are sent along in sufficient numbers to ensure an early start of the program - ’

As these words were spoken, Desmond Reid stole a glance at his colleague. Lane caught his look, and a touch of color reddened his cheeks. He smiled wanly, and said in his even voice, ‘The proposal is satisfactory. The details will have to be worked out to ensure the security of both planets.’

Later, when the two men were on their way home, Lane said, 'What you have to consider about my easy agreement, is - these Dren
were
attacked by somebody. If we ever run up against that somebody, we’d better have a few friends out in space.’

He finished somewhat defensively, ‘It’s a necessary compromise

you agreed.’

Desmond Reid said diplomatically, ‘When we get back to earth, I shall with your permission recommend to the outfits that you be taken off their list of booters. Do I have your permission?’ Lane, who was in the pilot’s seat, did not reply immediately. He seemed to be staring off into the black space which began scant feet in front of them. If there was a thought going on in his head, it did not show.

But when he finally stirred, it was just as if he had been thinking.
For he spoke
in
a
distinct, argumentative tone, ‘Who should have gone on this negotiation trip? You and I, or some teenagers?

‘You and I, of course,’ was the calm reply. ‘Determined, grownup, experienced adults.
⁹

Once more, there was the double reaction. Again, the stare into the distance. Face unchanged. And the appearance of nothingness.

Yet some thought had undoubtedly occurred, for he said,
‘
Then our prompt seeking out of the enemy regardless of personal danger, is not by this new theory considered a teen-age version of courage.’

Reid sighed. ‘John,’ he said patiently, ‘I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of understanding what’s for kids and what’s for adults. The problem is that teenagers are actually capable people, and have not been used as such by society. Experience has once more demonstrated that they’re going to be doing something with that capability. If we wish, it can be constructive. But if we insist, it will be destructive. Back a hundred years ago, we had the biggest demonstration of all. The Chinese Communist armies that overran China consisted of over 80 per cent teenagers. All through history, cunning usurpers have grabbed the minds of the kids, because nobody else was utilising their potentialities. When the long space hikes began, the moment of that truth arrived in Spaceport. You were busy. Or you were off somewhere. And Susan was only six, so she was not yet a part of the storm. Besides, you accepted the intensive police patrols of ten and twenty years ago as normal for a military center. But the fact is, the authorities were handling a nightmare of teen rebellion and alienation. All that is over, and you should be glad, not mad.’

Now, there was change. Just like that, the internal conflict... surfaced. Suddenly, strong, stubborn lines sprang into relief in the face. The mouth pinched in. Cheeks stiffened.

Yet, the abrupt appearance of the old stereotype did not evoke speech. Lane merely nodded, half to himself.

Reid continued in an urgent tone, ‘Man seems to be endlessly repeating the cycle of teen rebellion. And then those kids - rebels or conformists - grow up physically but not emotionally. And the whole madness goes on into the next generation. That’s got to stop. We’ve got to solve the teen confusion, so that Man can go forward.’

He broke off. ‘So what do you say? Your permission? Off the booter list?’

After another long pause, after his eyes sagged to a half-closed slant. .. after he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and after his wan cheeks had acquired a rich, red coloration, Lane made a sibilant sound that could have been a word. And indeed, after his companion insisted upon an interpretation, it presently became obvious that the word he had sort of spat out like a bad taste, was -. .
Yes
?