VI: FIVEDAY EVENING
By the time my papers had been located and the form filled and stamped by the Jury, and my luggage had been found and loaded on a three-wheeled cart, Joe's Sun was setting. A guard, who talked enough to reveal that his name was Smith, guided me through the stifling streets. Already the dark nebula was visible, and thunder-clouds on the horizon added to the possibility that the sky was having convulsions.
Smith helped me pull the cart up a ramp to the planked walk of the outer wall. Guards stood at intervals and peeped through infra-red goggles or checked strange instruments. Some laughed after we passed. We crossed a bridge to the second story of a log building. Smith beat the door with his knuckles, until a girl, an adolescent edition of Betty Toal, opened it. "Fine weather, Minimum," she said.
Smith asked, "Dominant Rasmussen here?"
"Yes—" The girl became aware of what I was and backed away to a legal ten foot length.
The guard helped deposit my cases inside the doorway. A huge, white-haired old man lumbered into the hall. He supported his obesity with a wooden rod curved at one end. "Dominant Alcaeus Rasmussen," said Smith, "Alien Hunter Ube Kinlock."
Rasmussen's Maggiese nose tilted at the end so that the nostrils almost paralleled the plane of his puffy cheeks. His chins concealed his neck. "Was warned would come here," he grunted. "Eat. Then we talk of the Hog."
I said, "Thanks," and turned to Smith, but he was gone.
Rasmussen ushered me into a wood-sheathed room. A toothie thrust his striped head from a crack, squeaked once, and withdrew. About fifteen people sat at a table. Sighting me, one woman screamed, and all the females, including a girl about eight, pushed back their stools. "Sit down," Rasmussen commanded. "Will be no menace here."
Rasmussen placed me at a small table in the corner and occupied a stool opposite me. He said, "Ordinances forbid close contact between alien males and Maggiese females. Eating together, too dangerous." A young man set a plate and cup before Rasmussen, who said, "Emilio, serve the alien also."
Emilio furnished me with a bewildering assortment of bowls, cups, plates, and utensils, while glowering as if I had stolen his x-tops. The soup smelled somewhat like the preservative on the city walls, but I was too starved to care. "Do you know Betty Toal?" I took time to ask. "I seem to have caused her trouble with the authorities. I want to help her if possible."
"Needs no help," Rasmussen said. "Has reached her goal. With your assistance, has broken laws until must be deported. Was scheduled to marry the pilot, Olaf Ypsilanti."
"Marry Ypsilanti!" I choked on the soup.
"A fine man," Rasmussen said. "The girl's reaction is odd."
I started on a mixture containing cubes of meat and exotic vegetables. The people at the large table had stopped eating and fixed me with disconcerting stares. I said, "It's hard to tell you people apart."
"Those are children, grandchildren, in-laws," Rasmussen explained. "All true Maggiese resemble each other. Is the Joe Nordo Plan. Someday, except for age and sex, all Maggiese will be alike."
"I thought Planet Maggie had only been settled two centuries. You surely must have developed new genetic techniques for everyone to be this much alike so soon."
"No. Hereditary Controls Council hunts new ways. Attempt to count and identify human genes with devices they invented. Plan all marriages and calculate appearance of offspring. Much guessing. Still have Mongoloids, blonds, even red hair." Rasmussen glanced at my red hair.
I ate coarse bread and drank juice with unknown flavors. I asked, "Why make such a bother over looks?"
Rasmussen frowned. "Joe Nordo said, 'To be alike is to be free.' When men are exactly the same, envy, suspicion, prejudice, other evils vanish. Already Planet Maggie stands alone. Only true democracy in the Explored Galaxy. Jury is chosen by the people. Ordinances these men provide must pass in referendum with a ninety per cent majority. Farmers, of course, do not vote. His Perfectness the Joe Nordo Ideal is but an honored figurehead, the man who most resembles Joe Nordo."
I said, "The people actually vote for these stu—uh, for these Ordinances?"
"Of course. Their right."
Outside, the sky was now completely dark except when streaked with chains of lightning. Rumbling thunder rattled the windows.