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.
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.
But the sleep was not peaceful.
“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?”
Mary looked at a metal table.
“We have been in session far too long, holding up far too many other pressing contingencies. The trouble on Mercury, for example. We’ll have to straighten that out, somehow.”
Throughout the rows of beautiful people, the mumbling increased. Mrs. Cuberle sat nervously, tapping her shoe and running a comb through her hair.
“Mary Cuberle, you have been given innumerable chances to reconsider, you know.”
Mary said, “I know. But I don’t want to.”
The beautiful people looked at Mary and laughed. Some shook their heads.
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?”
A slender, supple woman in a back row cried, “We want action. Do something!”
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 again. “Child, for the last time. Do you reconsider? Will you accept the Transformation?”
“No.”
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—but the petition urges drastic measures.”
The mumbling rose.
“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.”
Mary’s eyes were open, wide. She stood and paused before speaking.
“Why?” she asked, loudly.
The man passed a hand through his hair.
Another voice from the crowd, “Seems to be a lot of questions unanswered here.”
And another, “Sign the petition, Senator!”
All the voices, “Sign it, sign it!”
“But why?” Mary began to cry. The voices stilled for a moment.
“Because—Because—”
“If you’d only tell me that. Tell me!”
“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.”
“Maybe they didn’t consider themselves so ugly.”
The mumbling began anew.
“That isn’t the point,” cried the man. “You must conform!”
And the voices cried “Yes” loudly until the man took up a pen and signed the papers on his desk.
Cheers, applause, shouts.
Mrs. Cuberle patted Mary on the top of her head.
“There, now!” she said, happily, “Everything will be all right now. You’ll see, Mary.”
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.
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.
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.
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.
Mary walked slowly, despite the prodding. In her eyes, in her eyes, was a mounting confusion; a wide, wide wonderment.
The reason was becoming less vague; the fuzzed edges were falling away now. Through all the horrible months and all the horrible moments, the edges fell away. Now it was almost clear.
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 Mary.
Of course. Of course! This was what Daddy meant, what Grandpa and the books meant. What they 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.
The understanding heaped up with each step.
“Where are these people?” Mary asked half to herself. “What has happened to them and don’t they miss themselves, these manufactured things?”
She stopped, suddenly.
“Yes! That is the reason. They have all forgotten themselves!”
A curvacious woman stepped forward and took Mary’s hand. The woman’s skin was tinted dark. Chipped and sculptured bone into
