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<p class="center"><i>Mary was a misfit. <br /> She didn't want to be
beautiful. And she wasted time doing mad
things&mdash;like eating and sleeping.</i></p>

<hr class="l65" />
<h1>The Beautiful People</h1>

<p class="center"><big><b>By Charles Beaumont</b></big></p>

<p class="cap">MARY sat quietly and watched
the handsome man's legs
blown off; watched further as the great ship began to crumple and
break into small pieces in the middle
of the blazing night. She fidgeted
slightly as the men and the parts
of the men came floating dreamily
through the wreckage out into the
awful silence. And when the meteorite
shower came upon the men,
gouging holes through everything,
tearing flesh and ripping bones,
Mary closed her eyes.</p>

<p>"Mother."</p>

<p>Mrs. Cuberle glanced up from
her magazine.</p>

<p>"Hmm?"</p>

<p>"Do we have to wait much longer?"</p>

<p>"I don't think so. Why?"</p>

<p>Mary said nothing but looked at
the moving wall.</p>

<p>"Oh, that." Mrs. Cuberle laughed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>
and shook her head. "That tired
old thing. Read a magazine, Mary,
like I'm doing. We've all seen <i>that</i>
a million times."</p>

<p>"Does it have to be on, Mother?"</p>

<p>"Well, nobody seems to be watching.
I don't think the doctor would
mind if I switched it off."</p>

<p>Mrs. Cuberle rose from the couch
and walked to the wall. She depressed
a little button and the life
went from the wall, flickering and
glowing.</p>

<p>Mary opened her eyes.</p>

<p>"Honestly," Mrs. Cuberle said to
a woman sitting beside her, "you'd
think they'd try to get something
else. We might as well go to the
museum and watch the first landing
on Mars. The Mayoraka Disaster&mdash;really!"</p>

<p>The woman replied without distracting
her eyes from the magazine
page. "It's the doctor's idea.
Psychological."</p>

<p>Mrs. Cuberle opened her mouth
and moved her head up and down
knowingly.</p>

<p>"Ohhh. I should have known
there was <i>some</i> reason. Still, who
watches it?"</p>

<p>"The children do. Makes them
think, makes them grateful or something."</p>

<p>"Ohhh."</p>

<p>"Psychological."</p>

<p>Mary picked up a magazine and
leafed through the pages. All photographs,
of women and men. Women
like Mother and like the others in
the room; slender, tanned, shapely,
beautiful women; and men with
large muscles and shiny hair. Women
and men, all looking alike, all
perfect and beautiful. She folded
the magazine and wondered how
to answer the questions that would
be asked.</p>

<p>"Mother&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Gracious, what is it now! Can't
you sit still for a minute?"</p>

<p>"But we've been here three
hours."</p>

<p>Mrs. Cuberle sniffed.</p>

<p>"Do&mdash;do I really have to?"</p>

<p>"Now don't be silly, Mary. After
those terrible things you told me, of
<i>course</i> you do."</p>

<p>An olive-skinned woman in a
transparent white uniform came
into the reception room.</p>

<p>"Cuberle. Mrs. Zena Cuberle?"</p>

<p>"Yes."</p>

<p>"Doctor will see you now."</p>

<p>Mrs. Cuberle took Mary's hand
and they walked behind the nurse
down a long corridor.</p>

<p>A man who seemed in his middle
twenties looked up from a desk. He
smiled and gestured toward two adjoining
chairs.</p>

<p>"Well&mdash;well."</p>

<p>"Doctor Hortel, I&mdash;"</p>

<hr class="l45" />

<p class="cap">THE doctor snapped his fingers.</p>

<p>"Of course, I know. Your daughter.
Ha ha, I certainly do know
your trouble. Get so many of them
nowadays&mdash;takes up most of my
time."</p>

<p>"You do?" asked Mrs. Cuberle.
"Frankly, it had begun to upset
me."</p>

<p>"Upset? Hmm. Not good. Not
good at all. Ah, but then&mdash;if people
did not get upset, we psychiatrists
would be out of a job, eh? Go the
way of the early M. D. But, I assure
you, I need hear no more." He
turned his handsome face to Mary.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>
"Little girl, how old are you?"</p>

<p>"Eighteen, sir."</p>

<p>"Oh, a real bit of impatience. It's
just about time, of course. What
might your name be?"</p>

<p>"Mary."</p>

<p>"Charming! And so unusual.
Well now, Mary, may I say that I
understand your problem&mdash;understand
it thoroughly?"</p>

<p>Mrs. Cuberle smiled and
smoothed the sequins on her blouse.</p>

<p>"Madam, you have no idea how
many there are these days. Sometimes
it preys on their minds so that
it affects them physically, even mentally.
Makes them act strange, say
peculiar, unexpected things. One
little girl I recall was so distraught
she did nothing but brood all day
long. Can you imagine!"</p>

<p>"That's what Mary does. When
she finally told me, doctor, I
thought she had gone&mdash;<i>you</i> know."</p>

<p>"That bad, eh? Afraid we'll have
to start a re-education program,
very soon, or they'll all be like this.
I believe I'll suggest it to the senator
day after tomorrow."</p>

<p>"I don't quite understand, doctor."</p>

<p>"Simply, Mrs. Cuberle, that the
children have got to be thoroughly
instructed. Thoroughly. Too much
is taken for granted and childish
minds somehow refuse to accept
things without definite reason. Children
have become far too intellectual,
which, as I trust I needn't remind
you, is a dangerous thing."</p>

<p>"Yes, but what has this to do
with&mdash;"</p>

<p>"With Mary? Everything, of
course. Mary, like half the sixteen,
seventeen and eighteen year olds today,
has begun to feel acutely self-conscious.
She feels that her body
has developed sufficiently for the
Transformation&mdash;which of course it
has not, not quite yet&mdash;and she cannot
understand the complex reasons
that compel her to wait until some
future date. Mary looks at you, at
the women all about her, at the pictures,
and then she looks into a mirror.
From pure perfection of body,
face, limbs, pigmentation, carriage,
stance, from simon-pure perfection,
if I may be allowed the expression,
she sees herself and is horrified. Isn't
that so, my dear child? Of course&mdash;of
course. She asks herself, why must
I be hideous, unbalanced, oversize,
undersize, full of revolting skin
eruptions, badly schemed organically?
In short, Mary is tired of being
a monster and is overly anxious to
achieve what almost everyone else
has already achieved."</p>

<p>"But&mdash;" said Mrs. Cuberle.</p>

<p>"This much you understand,
doubtless. Now, Mary, what you
object to is that our society offers
you, and the others like you, no convincing
logic on the side of waiting
until age nineteen. It is all taken for
granted, and you want to know
why! It is that simple. A non-technical
explanation will not suffice&mdash;mercy
no! The modern child wants
facts, solid technical data, to satisfy
her every question. And that, as you
can both see, will take a good deal
of reorganizing."</p>

<p>"But&mdash;" said Mary.</p>

<p>"The child is upset, nervous,
tense; she acts strange, peculiar,
odd, worries you and makes herself
ill because it is beyond our meagre
powers to put it across. I tell you,
what we need is a whole new basis
for learning. And, that will take<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>
doing. It will take <i>doing</i>, Mrs. Cuberle.
Now, don't you worry about
Mary, and don't <i>you</i> worry, child.
I'll prescribe some pills and&mdash;"</p>

<p>"No, no, doctor! You're all mixed
up," cried Mrs. Cuberle.</p>

<p>"I beg your pardon, Madam?"</p>

<p>"What I mean is, you've got it
wrong. Tell him, Mary, tell the doctor
what you told me."</p>

<p>Mary shifted uneasily in the
chair.</p>

<p>"It's that&mdash;I don't want it."</p>

<p>The doctor's well-proportioned
jaw dropped.</p>

<p>"Would you please repeat that?"</p>

<p>"I said, I don't want the Transformation."</p>

<p>"D&mdash;Don't want it?"</p>

<p>"You see? She told me. That's
why I came to you."</p>

<p>The doctor looked at Mary suspiciously.</p>

<p>"But that's impossible! I have
never heard of such a thing. Little
girl, you are playing a joke!"</p>

<p>Mary nodded negatively.</p>

<p>"See, doctor. What can it be?"
Mrs. Cuberle rose and began to
pace.</p>

<hr class="l45" />

<p class="cap">THE DOCTOR clucked his
tongue and took from a small
cupboard a black box covered with
buttons and dials and wire.</p>

<p>"Oh no, you don't think&mdash;I
mean, could it?"</p>

<p>"We shall soon see." The doctor
revolved a number of dials and
studied the single bulb in the center
of the box. It did not flicker. He
removed handles from Mary's head.</p>

<p>"Dear me," the doctor said, "dear
me. Your daughter is perfectly sane,
Mrs. Cuberle."</p>

<p>"Well, then what is it?"</p>

<p>"Perhaps she is lying. We haven't
completely eliminated that factor as
yet; it slips into certain organisms."</p>

<p>More tests. More machines and
more negative results.</p>

<p>Mary pushed her foot in a circle
on the floor. When the doctor put
his hands to her shoulders, she
looked up pleasantly.</p>

<p>"Little girl," said the handsome
man, "do you actually mean to tell
us that you <i>prefer</i> that body?"</p>

<p>"Yes sir."</p>

<p>"May I ask why."</p>

<p>"I like it. It's&mdash;hard to explain,
but it's me and that's what I like.
Not the looks, maybe, but the <i>me</i>."</p>

<p>"You can look in the mirror and
see yourself, then look at&mdash;well, at
your mother and be content?"</p>

<p>"Yes, sir." Mary thought of her
reasons; fuzzy, vague, but very
definitely there. Maybe she had said
the reason. No. Only a part of it.</p>

<p>"Mrs. Cuberle," the doctor said,
"I suggest that your husband have
a long talk with Mary."</p>

<p>"My husband is dead. That affair
near Ganymede, I believe. Something
like that."</p>

<p>"Oh, splendid. Rocket man, eh?
Very interesting organisms. Something
always seems to happen to
rocket men, in one way or another.
But&mdash;I suppose we should do something."
The doctor scratched his
jaw. "When did she first start talking
this way," he asked.</p>

<p>"Oh, for quite some time. I used
to think it was because she was such
a baby. But lately, the time getting
so close and all, I thought I'd better
see you."</p>

<p>"Of course, yes, very wise. Er&mdash;does
she also do odd things?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p>

<p>"Well, I found her on the second
level one night. She was lying on the
floor and when I asked her what she
was doing, she said she was trying to
sleep."</p>

<p>Mary flinched. She was sorry, in
a way, that Mother had found that
out.</p>

<p>"To&mdash;did you say 'sleep'?"</p>

<p>"That's right."</p>

<p>"Now where could she have
picked that up?"</p>

<p>"No idea."</p>

<p>"Mary, don't you know that nobody
sleeps anymore? That we have
an infinitely greater life-span than
our poor ancestors now that the
wasteful state of unconsciousness
has been conquered? Child, have
you actually <i>slept</i>? No one knows
how anymore."</p>

<p>"No sir, but I almost did."</p>

<p>The doctor sighed. "But, it's unheard
of! How could you begin to
try to do something people have forgotten
entirely about?"</p>

<p>"The way it was described in the
book, it sounded nice, that's all."
Mary was feeling very uncomfortable
now. Home and no talking
man in a foolish white gown....</p>

<p>"Book, book? Are there <i>books</i> at
your Unit, Madam?"</p>

<p>"There could be&mdash;I haven't
cleaned up in a while."</p>

<p>"That is certainly peculiar. I
haven't seen a book for years. Not
since '17."</p>

<p>Mary began to fidget and stare
nervously about.</p>

<p>"But with the tapes, why should
you try and read books&mdash;where did
you get them?"</p>

<p>"Daddy did. He got them from
his father and so did Grandpa. He
said they're better than the tapes
and he was right."</p>

<p>Mrs. Cuberle flushed.</p>

<p>"My husband was a little strange,
Doctor Hortel. He kept those things
despite everything I said.</p>

<p>"Dear me, I&mdash;excuse me."</p>

<p>The muscular, black-haired doctor
walked to another cabinet and
selected from the shelf a bottle.
From the bottle he took two large
pills and swallowed them.</p>

<p>"Sleep&mdash;books&mdash;doesn't want the
Transformation&mdash;Mrs. Cuberle, my
<i>dear</i> good woman, this is grave.
Doesn't want the Transformation.
I would appreciate it if you would
change psychiatrists: I am very busy
and, uh, this is somewhat specialized.
I suggest Centraldome. Many
fine doctors there. Goodbye."</p>

<p>The doctor turned and sat down
in a large chair and folded his
hands. Mary watched him and wondered
why the simple statements
should have so changed things. But
the doctor did not move from the
chair.</p>

<p>"Well!" said Mrs. Cuberle and
walked quickly from the room.</p>

<p>The man's legs were being blown
off again as they left the reception
room.</p>

<hr class="l45" />

<p class="cap">MARY considered the reflection
in the mirrored wall. She sat
on the floor and looked at different
angles of herself: profile, full-face,
full length, naked, clothed. Then
she took up the magazine and
studied it. She sighed.</p>

<p>"Mirror, mirror on the wall&mdash;" The
words came haltingly to her
mind and from her lips. She hadn't
read them, she recalled. Daddy had
said them, quoted them as he put it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>
But they too were lines from a book&mdash;"who
is the fairest of&mdash;"</p>

<p>A picture of Mother sat upon the
dresser and Mary considered this
now. Looked for a long time at the
slender, feminine neck. The golden
skin, smooth and without blemish,
without wrinkles and without age.
The dark brown eyes and the thin
tapers of eyebrows, the long black
lashes, set evenly, so that each half
of the face corresponded precisely.
The half-parted-mouth, a violet tint
against the gold, the white, white
teeth, even, sparkling.</p>

<p>Mother. Beautiful, Transformed
Mother. And back again to the mirror.</p>

<p>"&mdash;of them all...."</p>

<p>The image of a rather chubby
girl, without lines of rhythm or
grace, without perfection. Splotchy
skin full of little holes, puffs in the
cheeks, red eruptions on the forehead.
Perspiration, shapeless hair
flowing onto shapeless shoulders
down a shapeless body. Like all of
them, before the Transformation.</p>

<p>Did they <i>all</i> look like this, before?
Did Mother, even?</p>

<p>Mary thought hard, trying to remember
exactly what Daddy and
Grandpa had said, why they said the
Transformation was a bad thing,
and why she believed and agreed
with them so strongly. It made little
sense, but they were right. They
<i>were</i> right! And one day, she would
understand completely.</p>

<p>Mrs. Cuberle slammed the door
angrily and Mary jumped to her
feet. She hadn't forgotten about it.
"The way you upset Dr. Hortel.
He won't even see me anymore, and
these traumas are getting horrible.
I'll have to get that awful Dr.
Wagoner."</p>

<p>"Sorry&mdash;"</p>

<p>Mrs. Cuberle sat on the couch
and crossed her legs carefully.</p>

<p>"What in the world were you
doing on the floor?"</p>

<p>"Trying to sleep."</p>

<p>"Now, I won't hear of it! You've
got to stop it! You <i>know</i> you're not
insane. Why should you want to do
such a silly thing?"</p>

<p>"The books. And Daddy told me
about it."</p>

<p>"And you mustn't read those terrible
things."</p>

<p>"Why&mdash;is there a law against
them?"</p>

<p>"Well, no, but people tired of
books when the tapes came in. You
know that. The house is full of
tapes; anything you want."</p>

<p>Mary stuck out her lower lip.</p>

<p>"They're no fun. All about the
Wars and the colonizations."</p>

<p>"And I suppose books are fun?"</p>

<p>"Yes. They are."</p>

<p>"And that's where you got this
idiotic notion that you don't want
the Transformation, isn't it? Of
course it is. Well, we'll see to that!"</p>

<hr class="l45" />

<p class="cap">MRS. CUBERLE rose quickly
and took the books from the
corner and from the closet and filled
her arms with them. She looked
everywhere in the room and
gathered the old rotten volumes.</p>

<p>These she carried from the room
and threw into the elevator. A button
guided the doors shut.</p>

<p>"I thought you'd do that," Mary
said. "That's why I hid most of
the good ones. Where you'll never
find them."</p>

<p>Mrs. Cuberle put a satin handkerchief<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>
to her eyes and began to
weep.</p>

<p>"Just look at you. Look. I don't
know what I ever did to deserve
this!"</p>

<p>"Deserve what, Mother? What
am I doing that's so wrong?" Mary's
mind rippled in a confused stream.</p>

<p>"What!" Mrs. Cuberle screamed,
<i>"What!</i> Do you think I want people
to point to you and say I'm the
mother of an idiot? That's what
they'll say, you'll see. Or," she
looked up hopefully, "have you
changed your mind?"</p>

<p>"No." The vague reasons, longing
to be put into words.</p>

<p>"It doesn't hurt. They just take
off a little skin and put some on and
give you pills and electronic treatments
and things like that. It
doesn't take more than a week."</p>

<p>"No." The reason.</p>

<p>"Don't you want to be beautiful,
like other people&mdash;like me? Look
at your friend Shala, she's getting
her Transformation next month.
And <i>she's</i> almost pretty now."</p>

<p>"Mother, I don't care&mdash;"</p>

<p>"If it's the bones you're worried
about, well, that doesn't hurt. They
give you a shot and when you wake
up, everything's moulded right.
Everything, to suit the personality."</p>

<p>"I don't care, I don't care."</p>

<p>"But <i>why</i>?"</p>

<p>"I like me the way I am." Almost&mdash;almost
exactly. But not quite.
Part of it, however. Part of what
Daddy and Grandpa meant.</p>

<p>"But you're so ugly, dear! Like
Dr. Hortel said. And Mr. Willmes,
at the factory. He told some people
he thought you were the ugliest girl
he'd ever seen. Says he'll be thankful
when you have your Transformation.
And what if he hears of all
this, what'll happen then?"</p>

<p>"Daddy said I was beautiful."</p>

<p>"Well really, dear. You <i>do</i> have
eyes."</p>

<p>"Daddy said that real beauty is
only skin deep. He said a lot of
things like that and when I read
the books I felt the same way. I
guess I don't want to look like
everybody else, that's all." No, that's
not it. Not at all it.</p>

<p>"That man had too much to do
with you. You'll notice that he had
<i>his</i> Transformation, though!"</p>

<p>"But he was sorry. He told me
that if he had it to do over again,
he'd never do it. He said for me to
be stronger than he was."</p>

<p>"Well, I won't have it. You're
not going to get away with this,
young lady. After all, I <i>am</i> your
mother."</p>

<p>A bulb flickered in the bathroom
and Mrs. Cuberle walked uncertainly
to the cabinet. She took out a
little cardboard box.</p>

<p>"Time for lunch."</p>

<p>Mary nodded. That was another
thing the books talked about, which
the tapes did not. Lunch seemed to
be something special long ago, or
at least different. The books talked
of strange ways of putting a load of
things into the mouth and chewing
these things. Enjoying them.
Strange and somehow wonderful.</p>

<p>"And you'd better get ready for
work."</p>

<p>"Yes, Mother."</p>

<hr class="l45" />

<p class="cap">THE office was quiet and without
shadows. The walls gave off a
steady luminescence, distributed the
light evenly upon all the desks and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
tables. And it was neither hot nor
cold.</p>

<p>Mary held the ruler firmly and
allowed the pen to travel down the
metal edge effortlessly. The new
black lines were small and accurate.
She tipped her head, compared the
notes beside her to the plan she was
working on. She noticed the beautiful
people looking at her more furtively
than before, and she wondered
about this as she made her
lines.</p>

<p>A tall man rose from his desk in
the rear of the office and walked
down the aisle to Mary's table. He
surveyed her work, allowing his eyes
to travel cautiously from her face
to the draft.</p>

<p>Mary looked around.</p>

<p>"Nice job," said the man.</p>

<p>"Thank you, Mr. Willmes."</p>

<p>"Dralich shouldn't have anything
to complain about. That crane
should hold the whole damn city."</p>

<p>"It's very good alloy, sir."</p>

<p>"Yeah. Say, kid, you got a minute?"</p>

<p>"Yes sir."</p>

<p>"Let's go into Mullinson's office."</p>

<p>The big handsome man led the
way into a small cubby-hole of a
room. He motioned to a chair and
sat on the edge of one desk.</p>

<p>"Kid, I never was one to beat
around the bush. Somebody called
in little while ago, gave me some
crazy story about you not wanting
the Transformation."</p>

<p>Mary said "Oh." Daddy had said
it would have to happen, some day.
This must be what he meant.</p>

<p>"I would've told them they were
way off the beam, but I wanted to
talk to you first, get it straight."</p>

<p>"Well, sir, it's true. I don't. I
want to stay this way."</p>

<p>The man looked at Mary and
then coughed, embarrassedly.</p>

<p>"What the hell&mdash;excuse me, kid,
but&mdash;I don't exactly get it. You, uh,
you saw the psychiatrist?"</p>

<p>"Yes sir. I'm not insane. Dr.
Hortel can tell you."</p>

<p>"I didn't mean anything like
that. Well&mdash;" the man laughed
nervously. "I don't know what to
say. You're still a cub, but you do
swell work. Lot of good results, lots
of comments from the stations. But,
Mr. Poole won't like it."</p>

<p>"I know. I know what you mean,
Mr. Willmes. But nothing can
change my mind. I want to stay this
way and that's all there is to it."</p>

<p>"But&mdash;you'll get old before you're
half through life."</p>

<p>Yes, she would. Old, like the
Elders, wrinkled and brittle, unable
to move right. Old. "It's hard to
make you understand. But I don't
see why it should make any difference."</p>

<p>"Don't go getting me wrong,
now. It's not me, but, you know, I
don't own Interplan. I just work
here. Mr. Poole likes things running
smooth and it's my job to carry it
out. And soon as everybody finds
out, things wouldn't run smooth.
There'll be a big stink. The dames
will start asking questions and talk."</p>

<p>"Will you accept my resignation,
then, Mr. Willmes?"</p>

<p>"Sure you won't change your
mind?"</p>

<p>"No sir. I decided that a long
time ago. And I'm sorry now that
I told Mother or anyone else. No
sir, I won't change my mind."</p>

<p>"Well, I'm sorry, Mary. You been
doing awful swell work. Couple of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>
years you could be centralled on
one of the asteroids, the way you
been working. But if you should
change your mind, there'll always be
a job for you here."</p>

<p>"Thank you, sir."</p>

<p>"No hard feelings?"</p>

<p>"No hard feelings."</p>

<p>"Okay then. You've got till
March. And between you and me, I
hope by then you've decided the
other way."</p>

<p>Mary walked back down the aisle,
past the rows of desks. Past the men
and women. The handsome, model
men and the beautiful, perfect
women, perfect, all perfect, all
looking alike. Looking exactly alike.</p>

<p>She sat down again and took up
her ruler and pen.</p>

<hr class="l45" />

<p class="cap">MARY stepped into the elevator
and descended several hundred
feet. At the Second Level she
pressed a button and the elevator
stopped. The doors opened with another
button and the doors to her
Unit with still another.</p>

<p>Mrs. Cuberle sat on the floor by
the T-V, disconsolate and red-eyed.
Her blond hair had come slightly
askew and a few strands hung over
her forehead. "You don't need to
tell me. No one will hire you."</p>

<p>Mary sat beside her mother. "If
you only hadn't told Mr. Willmes in
the first place&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Well, I thought <i>he</i> could beat a
little sense into you."</p>

<p>The sounds from the T-V grew
louder. Mrs. Cuberle changed channels
and finally turned it off.</p>

<p>"What did you do today, Mother?"
Mary smiled.</p>

<p>"Do? What can I do, now? Nobody
will even come over! I told
you what would happen."</p>

<p>"Mother!"</p>

<p>"They say you should be in the
Circuses."</p>

<p>Mary went into another room.
Mrs. Cuberle followed. "How are
we going to live? Where does the
money come from now? Just because
you're stubborn on this crazy
idea. Crazy crazy crazy! Can I support
both of us? They'll be firing
<i>me</i>, next!"</p>

<p>"Why is this happening?"</p>

<p>"Because of you, that's why. Nobody
else on this planet has ever
refused the Transformation. But
you turn it down. You <i>want</i> to be
ugly!"</p>

<p>Mary put her arms about her
mother's shoulders. "I wish I could
explain, I've tried so hard to. It isn't
that I want to bother anyone, or
that Daddy wanted me to. I just
don't want the Transformation."</p>

<p>Mrs. Cuberle reached into the
pockets of her blouse and got a
purple pill. She swallowed the pill.
When the letter dropped from the
chute, Mrs. Cuberle ran to snatch
it up. She read it once, silently, then
smiled.</p>

<p>"Oh, I was afraid they wouldn't
answer. But we'll see about this
<i>now</i>!"</p>

<p>She gave the letter to Mary.</p>

<div class="blockquot">
<p class="extraspace2"> </p>
<i>Mrs. Zena Cuberle<br />
Unit 451 D<br />
Levels II &amp; III<br />
City<br />
Dear Madam:</i><p class="extraspace2"> </p>


<p><i>In re your letter of Dec 3 36. We
have carefully examined your complaint
and consider that it requires
stringent measures. Quite frankly,
<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>the possibility of such a complaint
has never occurred to this Dept.
and we therefore cannot make positive
directives at the moment.</i></p>

<p><i>However, due to the unusual
qualities of the matter, we have arranged
an audience at Centraldome,
Eighth Level, Sixteenth
Unit, Jan 3 37, 23 sharp. Dr. Elph
Hortel has been instructed to attend.
You will bring the subject in
question.</i></p>


<i>Yrs,<br />
DEPT F</i>
</div>
<p class="extraspace2"> </p>

<p>Mary let the paper flutter to the
floor. She walked quietly to the elevator
and set it for Level III. When
the elevator stopped, she ran from
it, crying, into her room.</p>

<p>She thought and remembered
and tried to sort out and put together.
Daddy had said it, Grandpa
had, the books did. Yes, the books
did.</p>

<p>She read until her eyes burned
and her eyes burned until she could
read no more. Then Mary went to
sleep, softly and without realizing
it, for the first time.</p>

<p>But the sleep was not peaceful.</p>

<hr class="l45" />

<p class="cap">"LADIES and gentlemen," said
the young-looking, well groomed
man, "this problem does not resolve
easily. Dr. Hortel here, testifies that
Mary Cuberle is definitely not insane.
Drs. Monagh, Prinn and Fedders
all verify this judgment. Dr.
Prinn asserts that the human organism
is no longer so constructed as
to create and sustain such an attitude
through deliberate falsehood.
Further, there is positively nothing
in the structure of Mary Cuberle
which might suggest difficulties in
Transformation. There is evidence
for all these statements. And yet we
are faced with this refusal. What,
may I ask, is to be done?"</p>

<p>Mary looked at a metal table.</p>

<p>"We have been in session far too
long, holding up far too many other
pressing contingencies. The trouble
on Mercury, for example. We'll
<i>have</i> to straighten that out, somehow."</p>

<p>Throughout the rows of beautiful
people, the mumbling increased.
Mrs. Cuberle sat nervously, tapping
her shoe and running a comb
through her hair.</p>

<p>"Mary Cuberle, you have been
given innumerable chances to reconsider,
you know."</p>

<p>Mary said, "I know. But I don't
want to."</p>

<p>The beautiful people looked at
Mary and laughed. Some shook
their heads.</p>

<p>The man threw up his hands.
"Little girl, can you realize what an
issue you have caused? The unrest,
the wasted time? Do you fully understand
what you have done? Intergalactic
questions hang fire while
you sit there saying the same thing
over and over. Doesn't the happiness
of your Mother mean anything
to you?"</p>

<p>A slender, supple woman in a
back row cried, "We want action.
<i>Do</i> something!"</p>

<p>The man in the high stool raised
his hand. "None of that, now. We
must conform, even though the
question is out of the ordinary." He
leafed through a number of papers
on his desk, leaned down and whispered
into the ear of a strong blond
man. Then he turned to Mary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>
again. "Child, for the last time. Do
you reconsider? Will you accept the
Transformation?"</p>

<p>"No."</p>

<p>The man shrugged his shoulders.
"Very well, then. I have here a petition,
signed by two thousand individuals
and representing all the
Stations of Earth. They have been
made aware of all the facts and
have submitted the petition voluntarily.
It's all so unusual and I'd
hoped we wouldn't have to&mdash;but
the petition urges drastic measures."</p>

<p>The mumbling rose.</p>

<p>"The petition urges that you
shall, upon final refusal, be forced
by law to accept the Transformation.
And that an act of legislature
shall make this universal and binding
in the future."</p>

<p>Mary's eyes were open, wide. She
stood and paused before speaking.</p>

<p>"Why?" she asked, loudly.</p>

<p>The man passed a hand through
his hair.</p>

<p>Another voice from the crowd,
"Seems to be a lot of questions unanswered
here."</p>

<p>And another, "Sign the petition,
Senator!"</p>

<p>All the voices, "Sign it, sign it!"</p>

<p>"But why?" Mary began to cry.
The voices stilled for a moment.</p>

<p>"Because&mdash;Because&mdash;"</p>

<p>"If you'd only tell me that. Tell
me!"</p>

<p>"Why, it simply isn't being done,
that's all. The greatest gift of all,
and what if others should get the
same idea? What would happen to
us then, little girl? We'd be right
back to the ugly, thin, fat, unhealthy-looking
race we were ages
ago! There can't be any exceptions."</p>

<p>"Maybe they didn't consider
themselves so ugly."</p>

<p>The mumbling began anew.</p>

<p>"That isn't the point," cried the
man. "You <i>must</i> conform!"</p>

<p>And the voices cried "Yes" loudly
until the man took up a pen and
signed the papers on his desk.</p>

<p>Cheers, applause, shouts.</p>

<p>Mrs. Cuberle patted Mary on the
top of her head.</p>

<p>"There, now!" she said, happily,
"Everything will be all right now.
You'll see, Mary."</p>

<hr class="l45" />

<p class="cap">THE Transformation Parlor Covered
the entire Level, sprawling
with its departments. It was always
filled and there was nothing to sign
and no money to pay and people
were always waiting in line.</p>

<p>But today the people stood aside.
And there were still more, looking
in through doors, TV cameras
placed throughout the tape machines
in every corner. It was filled,
but not bustling as usual.</p>

<p>Mary walked past the people,
Mother and the men in back of her,
following. She looked at the people.
The people were beautiful, perfect,
without a single flaw.</p>

<p>All the beautiful people. All the
ugly people, staring out from bodies
that were not theirs. Walking on
legs that had been made for them,
laughing with manufactured voices,
gesturing with shaped and fashioned
arms.</p>

<p>Mary walked slowly, despite the
prodding. In her eyes, in <i>her</i> eyes,
was a mounting confusion; a wide,
wide wonderment.</p>

<p>The reason was becoming less
vague; the fuzzed edges were falling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>
away now. Through all the horrible
months and all the horrible moments,
the edges fell away. Now
it was almost clear.</p>

<p>She looked down at her own
body, then at the walls which reflected
it. Flesh of her flesh, bone of
her bone, all hers, made by no one,
built by herself or someone she did
not know. Uneven kneecaps, making
two grinning cherubs when they
bent, and the old familiar rubbing
together of fat inner thighs. Fat, unshapely,
unsystematic Mary. But
<i>Mary</i>.</p>

<p>Of course. Of course! This <i>was</i>
what Daddy meant, what Grandpa
and the books meant. What <i>they</i>
would know if they would read the
books or hear the words, the good,
reasonable words, the words that
signified more, much more, than
any of this.</p>

<p>The understanding heaped up
with each step.</p>

<p>"Where <i>are</i> these people?" Mary
asked half to herself. "What has
happened to <i>them</i> and don't they
miss <i>themselves</i>, these manufactured
things?"</p>

<p>She stopped, suddenly.</p>

<p>"Yes! That <i>is</i> the reason. They
have all forgotten themselves!"</p>

<p>A curvacious woman stepped forward
and took Mary's hand. The
woman's skin was tinted dark.
Chipped and sculptured bone into
slender rhythmic lines, electrically
created carriage, stance, made,
turned out.</p>

<p>"All right, young lady. We will
begin."</p>

<p>They guided Mary to a large,
curved leather seat.</p>

<p>From the top of a long silver pole
a machine lowered itself. Tiny bulbs
glowed to life and cells began to
click. The people stared. Slowly a
picture formed upon the screen in
the machine. Bulbs directed at
Mary, then redirected into the
machine. Wheels turning, buttons
ticking.</p>

<p>The picture was completed.</p>

<p>"Would you like to see it?"</p>

<p>Mary closed her eyes, tight.</p>

<p>"It's really very nice." The woman
turned to the crowd. "Oh yes,
there's a great deal to be salvaged;
you'd be surprised. A great deal.
We'll keep the nose and I don't believe
the elbows will have to be altered
at all."</p>

<p>Mrs. Cuberle looked at Mary and
smiled. "Now, it isn't so bad as you
thought, is it?" she said.</p>

<p>The beautiful people looked.
Cameras turned, tapes wound.</p>

<p>"You'll have to excuse us now.
Only the machines allowed."</p>

<p><i>Only the machines.</i></p>

<p>The people filed out.</p>

<p>Mary saw the rooms in the mirror.
Saw things in the rooms, the
faces and bodies that had been left;
the woman and the machines and
the old young men standing about,
adjusting, readying.</p>

<p>Then she looked at the picture in
the screen.</p>

<p>And screamed.</p>

<p>A woman of medium height
stared back at her. A woman with a
curved body and thin legs; silver
hair, pompadoured, cut short; full
sensuous lips, small breasts, flat
stomach, unblemished skin.</p>

<p>A strange, strange woman no one
had ever seen before.</p>

<p>The nurse began to take Mary's
clothes off.</p>

<p>"Geoff," the woman said, "come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>
look at this, will you. Not one so bad
in years. Amazing that we can keep
anything at all."</p>

<p>The handsome man put his hands
in his pockets.</p>

<p>"Pretty bad, all right."</p>

<p>"Be still, child, stop making those
noises. You know perfectly well
nothing is going to hurt."</p>

<p>"But&mdash;what will you do with
me?"</p>

<p>"That was all explained to you."</p>

<p>"No, no, with <i>me</i>, <i>me</i>!"</p>

<p>"Oh, you mean the castoffs. The
usual. I don't know exactly. Somebody
takes care of it."</p>

<p>"I want me!" Mary cried. "Not
that!" She pointed at the screen.</p>

<hr class="l45" />

<div class="cap">HER chair was wheeled into a
semi-dark room. She was naked
now, and the men lifted her to a
table. The surface was like glass,
black, filmed. A big machine hung
above.</div>

<p>Straps. Clamps pulling, stretching
limbs apart. The screen with the
picture brought in. The men and
the woman, more women now. Dr.
Hortel in a corner, sitting with his
legs crossed, shaking his head.</p>

<p>Mary began to cry above the hum
of the mechanical things.</p>

<p>"Shhh. My gracious, such a
racket! Just think about your job
waiting for you, and all the friends
you'll have and how nice everything
will be. No more trouble now."</p>

<p>The big machine hurtling downward.</p>

<p>"Where will I find <i>me</i>?" Mary
screamed, "when it's all over?"</p>

<p>A long needle slid into rough flesh
and the beautiful people gathered
around the table.</p>

<p>They turned on the big machine.</p>

<hr class="l25" />
<h3>THE END</h3>
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