The Science Fiction Anthology. Филип Дик

wasn’t much. We just had to rid ourselves of some old-fashioned notions, that’s all. I was afraid, though, that the Board might disapprove of our methods.”

      MacDonald thought for a moment.

      “No, I guess they didn’t. I can’t recall any members of the Board complaining about it, at least. Apparently they felt that something drastic was needed. Or, more probably, they’ve kept themselves carefully ignorant of just how we did it. Oh, they know we violated privacy in a lot of cases, but they’re willing to overlook it.”

      “Very white of them, I’m sure,” Escher grunted. He took up the club and set the ball back on its carpet tee. “How about a game tomorrow afternoon?”

      MacDonald shook his head. “It didn’t bother the Board much, Claude, but I followed your advertising and I was down to the port to see a contingent of our new colonists take off. It bothers me, Claude. The ads you sent to the different planets, the whispering campaign we arranged for, the subtle propaganda we sent out—and then the women. Don’t you think there will be some sort of howl? We’ve definitely led them to believe one thing and here we’re sending them—well, the new colonists leave a lot to be desired.”

      Escher looked at him coldly. “Look, Mac, let’s be cynical about this. That’s why it was referred to us in the first place. Of course the girls we sent aren’t the most beautiful or the most glamorous. Those girls are already married and you couldn’t get them to leave, no matter what you did. The girls we sent are the ones who weren’t wanted here on Earth. We even killed two birds with one stone and solved the crime problem.”

      He held up his hand when MacDonald started to object.

      “Don’t say it, Mac. Stop and think for a moment. What danger can a shoplifter do on a colony planet? There’s nothing to steal. And without large cities, most other types of crime will have equally tough sledding. Besides, we eliminated those who had natural criminal tendencies. Most of the others had drifted into it as an outlet for their sense of insecurity, the feeling of not being wanted.”

      MacDonald looked worried.

      “All right, what happens when the colonists find out, Claude? What happens when they find out we shipped them the castoffs, the leftovers?”

      “The point is, Mac, they’ll never find out. They’re Second System colonists. You know how the Colonization Board works. Planet A colonizes planet B. Planet B colonizes planet C. Given a suitable number of generations, the people on planet C will never have seen people from planet A. Earth is planet A. The colony planets to which the women were sent are all planet Cs.

      “You see, the catch is that the colonists will have no basis on which to make comparisons. They’ve never seen women from Earth!”

      “I still don’t like it. They have seen women from other planets. After taking a look at the last shipload of females that left Earth, I’m still worried.”

      Escher laughed. “That’s because you haven’t seen some of the colony women, Mac. Tell me, what is the most cultured and socially up-to-date planet? Earth, of course. Now on what planet has husband-hunting and pleasing been developed into an all-out struggle with fine scientific techniques? Earth, again. The colonists don’t have a chance.

      “When it comes to catching and pleasing the male, the girls from Earth have really had an education. They can take care of themselves. Don’t worry about that. Who’s to tell the colonists the girls aren’t the cream of the crop, anyway? Not the girls themselves, certainly. And not us. I tell you they’ll never find out, Mac.”

      “You’re positive that the colonists will be pleased with the women?”

      Escher hesitated. “Well, reasonably.” He sounded a little wistful. He practiced his swing a few more times, barely missing the lamp on his desk.

      “I thought the advertising was rather clever, too. They’ll feel a great obligation to us for sending them ‘Earth’s Fairest Daughters.’ Be good for strengthening the ties to the mother planet.”

      MacDonald looked somewhat happier.

      “What about the women themselves, though? We sold them a bill of goods, too, you know. They’re expecting modern cities and handsome, rugged heroes for husbands. I know damn well that a lot of the colonies aren’t much more than sinkholes and I suspect the sanitary, rugged, thoughtful male is strictly off the artist’s drawing board. What happens when the women find that out?”

      Escher took the ball out of the glass and went back a few paces for another try.

      “Don’t forget, Mac, the girls are the ones who weren’t wanted here, the ones who were heading up for lives as old maids. They’re going to planets where they’re strictly a scarce item, where they’ll be appreciated. The colonists will think they’re getting something special and they’ll treat the girls that way. They’ll take good care of them. There might be a few difficulties at first, but it’ll come out all right.”

      “In other words, the whole thing hinges on how the colonists receive the girls. Isn’t that it?”

      The ball thunked solidly into the glass again and rolled out.

      “That’s right. We’ve hedged our bets the best we can. Now we’ll have to wait and see. But I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

      “Uh-huh,” MacDonald grumbled. “It works out nice in theory, but I wonder how it’ll be in practice.”

      VIII

      Phyllis let the deceleration press her into the cot and tried to relax. In ten minutes they would be disembarking in Landing City. Landing City, with its wide, paved streets and modern buildings, the neatly laid-out farms and the modern rocket port.

      There was a clanging of bells, a sudden feeling of nausea, and she knew they had landed. In the excited buzz of conversation from the others, she got her small suitcase and filed toward the hatch.

      They took her name and gave her the emigration bonus, and then she was on the ramp going down, smelling the cool fresh air and feeling a damp breeze against her face.

      She looked down....

      The modern rocket port was a scorched expanse of dirty ground, with a rusting shed at one end that she guessed was the office. Landing City was a collection of rundown shacks and corrugated huts with mud streets and wooden sidewalks running between them.

      She should have guessed, she thought bitterly. She had been sold a bill of goods. And there was no going back now; she was stuck with it.

      Stuck with it.

      She took another look. At least it would be healthy, and there was something besides the concrete and granite of a city to look at. It wouldn’t be day in and day out of sitting eight hours behind a typewriter, and then back to her lonesome two rooms for an evening of bridge or a night with a boring book.

      And there was nothing wrong with the town that couldn’t be remedied and improved with a little work. She and the others would see to that. Progress was going to hit Landing City whether the colonists like it or not.

      The colonists....

      She stared at the whiskery, ragged lot of men of all shapes and sizes that were waiting to welcome them.

      They had probably, she thought queerly, never heard a lecture on art in their lives. And they wouldn’t have any interest in historical novels and it was an even-money bet that bridge and canasta games would bore them.

      They were uncultured, she thought happily, thoroughly uncultured! Their main interest was probably in having a home and raising a family and working....

      And with a shave and clean clothes, they might even be handsome! A dimly remembered poster of a blond-haired giant flashed into her mind, but she dismissed it. The men below had a hard, healthy look about them, a certain virility, an individuality that the pale men back on Earth, now that she thought of it, seemed to