Short Stories by Robert A. Heinlein Vol 2 Part 91

Bureau. "Alf? This is Pot Breen. They still sitting on that story? . . . yes, yes, the Gypsy Rose file. Any new ones today?" He waited; Meade thought that she could make out swearing. "Take it easy, Alfthis hot weather can't last forever. Nine, eh? Well, add anotherSanta Monica Bou- levard, late this afternoon. No arrest." He added, "Nope, n.o.body got her namea middle-aged woman with a cast in one eye. I happened to see it . . . who, me? Why would I want to get mixed up? But it's rounding up into a very, very interesting picture." He put the phone down.

Meade said, "Cast in one eye, indeed!"

"Shall I call him back and give him your name?"

"Oh, nol"

"Very well. Now, Meade, we seemed to have located the point of contagion in your caseMrs. Copley. What I'd like to know next is how you felt, what you were thinking about, when you did it?"

She was frowning intently. "Wait a minute, Potiphai do

I understand that nine other girls have pulled the stunt I pulled?"

"Oh, nonine others today. You are" He paused briefly.

"the three hundred and nineteenth case in Los Angeles county since the first of the year. I don't have figures on the rest of the country, but the suggestion to clamp down on the stories came from the eastern news services when the papers here put our first cases on the wire. That proves that it's a problem elsewhere, too."

"You mean that women all over the country are peel- ing off their clothes in public? Why, how shocking!"

He said nothing. She blushed again and insisted, "Well, it is shocking, even if it was me, this time."

"No, Meade. One case is shocking; over three hundred makes it scientifically interesting. That's why I want to know how it felt. Tell me about it."

"But All right, I'll try. I told you I don't know why I did it; I still don't. I-"

"You remember it?"

"Oh, yesi I remember getting up off the bench and pulling up my sweater. I remember unzipping my skirt. I remember thinking I would have to hurry as I could see my bus stopped two blocks down the street. I remember how good it felt when I finally, uh" She paused and looked puzzled. "But

I still don't know why."

"What were you thinking about just before you stood up?"

"I don't remember."

"Visualize the street. What was pa.s.sing by? Where were your hands? Were your legs crossed or uncrossed? Was there anybody near you? What were you thinking about?"

"Uh . . . n.o.body was on the bench with me. I had my hands in my lap. Those characters in the mixed-up clothes were standing near by, but I wasn't paying attention. I wasn't thinking much except that my feet hurt and I wanted to get homeand how unbearably hot and sultry it was.

Then" Her eyes became distant, "suddenly I knew what

I had to do and it was very urgent that I do it. So I stood up and I . . . and I" Her voice became shrill.

"Take it easy!" he said. "Don't do it again."

"Hub? Why, Mr. Breeni I wouldn't do anything like that."

"Of course not. Then what?"

"Why, you put your raincoat around me and you know the rest." She faced him. "Say, Potiphar, what were you doing with a raincoat? It hasn't rained in weeksthis is the driest, hottest rainy season in years."

"In sixty-eight years, to be exact."

"Hub?"

"I carry a raincoat anyhow. Uh, just a notion of mine, but

I feel that when it does rain, it's going to rain awfully hard."

He added, "Forty days and forty nights, maybe."

She decided that he was being humorous and laughed.

He went on, "Can you remember how you got the idea?"

She swirled her gla.s.s and thought. "I simply don't know."

He nodded. "That's what I expected."

"I don't understand youunless you think I'm crazy. Do you?"

"No. I think you had to do it and could not help it and don't know why and can't know why."

"But you know." She said it accusingly.

"Maybe. At least I have some figures. Ever take any interest in statistics, Meade?"

She shook her head. "Figures confuse me. Never mind statistics1 want to know why I did what I didl"

He looked at her very soberly. "I think we're lemmings,

Meade."

She looked puzzled, then horrified. "You mean those little furry mouselike creatures? The ones that"

"Yes. The ones that periodically make a death migration, until millions, hundreds of millions of them drown them- selves in the sea. Ask a lemming why he does it. If you could get him to slow up his rush toward death, even money says he would rationalize his answer as well as any college graduate. But he does it because he has toand so do we."

"That's a horrid idea, Potiphar."

"Maybe. Come here, Meade. I'll show you figures that confuse me, too." He went to his desk and opened a drawer, took out a packet of cards. "Here's one. Two weeks ago a man sues an entire state legislature for alienation of his wife's affectionand the judge lets the suit be tried. Or this onea patent application for a device to lay the globe over on its side and warm up the arctic regions. Patent denied, but the inventor took in over three hundred thousand dol- lars in down payments on South Pole real estate before the postal authorities stepped in. Now he's fighting the case and it looks as if he might win. And hereprominent bishop proposes applied courses in the so-called facts of life in high schools." He put the card away hastily. "Here's a dilly: a bill introduced in the Alabama lower house to repeal the laws of atomic energynot the present statutes, but the natural laws concerning nuclear physics; the wording makes that plain." He shrugged. "How silly can you get?"

"They're crazy."

"No, Meade. One such is crazy; a lot of them is a lemming death march. No, don't objectI've plotted them on a curve.

The last time we had anything like this was the so-called

Era of Wonderful Nonsense. But this one is much worse."