He remembered some of the appeals. There was the poet embarked on an immense verse cycle, who arrived bearing a petition from some of the world's leading creative figures begging that he be excused in the name of culture. The poet had been shipped out with regrets; the surest way to destroy selection would be to begin making exceptions in the name of minority interests. Then there had been countless parents who could not bear separation from their children or from each other; students who pleaded for a chance (denied) to complete their educations; stage figures asking (unsuccessfully) to be allowed to finish the runs of their plays. Selection could make no exceptions. Whatever the cost to Earth in terms of a work of poetry forever lost, a hit play closed, a potential Einstein shipped to the stars, such losses had to be endured. To permit creative people, people of genius, to escape the net of selection would be to insure that only mediocrities would go to the stars, and mankind's destiny thus would be thwarted.
Mulholland finished his garden work, went indoors, washed, had another cocktail, ate dinner. In the evening, several hours of reading, a bit of music, an hour or two of video, a sedative, and bed.
He had few personal friends these days. Once he had been more gregarious, but nowadays social relationships were difficult for him to maintain. Either people regarded him with thinly veiled horror (who wants to play bridge with the hangman?) or else they cultivated his friendship with the hope that someday he might do them a favor, when selection struck their home. Of course, he could do no favors, but people never seemed to believe that.
He went to bed at 2300 hours. He was up again at 0730, shaved and showered and dressed and fed within forty-five minutes. On his way to the station he saw a mail truck making its rounds with the morning delivery, and felt little comfort from the fact that he no longer needed to dread the arrival of a blue envelope. It was impossible for him ever to forget that two hundred million Americans lived in the grip of terror each morning between breakfast and the arrival of the day's mail, never knowing until the red-white-and-blue truck had made its appearance whether or not this would be the day their number came up.
At 0900 on the dot, Mulholland was at his office. The requisition form was waiting for him, as always; fifty couples were needed for the starship Aaron Burr, leaving Canaveral on the eighteenth of October. He went through the standard morning routine, authorizing the selection of one hundred ten names for the Aaron Burr.
Two hours later, the first replies began to come in from the local boards on the Gegenschein selectees. Mulholland put each form in the 'hold' basket and forgot about them until it was time to get back to the Gegenschein list. He had already forgotten about the Sky rover, now that its list was complete, it faded into the long blur of unremembered ships whose passengers Mulholland had authorized.
After lunch - a tense affair as always for he never digested well on a working day - he turned his attention to the Gegenschein. His notes told him that one slot had already been filled: Noonan, the volunteer sent through from Baltimore Board #212. Mulholland needed forty-nine men, fifty women to make up the complement.
Most of the east coast and Midwest reports had come in already. The western people, naturally, would take longer; in most cases the mail was just being delivered now, out on the Coast. But there were enough early returns to begin working with. Mulholland began to sort through them, checking them oil against his master file.
Columbus, Ohio Board #156 We have examined registrant Michael Dawes and find him acceptable for selection
New York Board #11 We have examined registrant Cherry Thomas and find her acceptable for selection...
Philadelphia Board #72 We have examined registrant Lawrence T. Fowler and find him acceptable for selection...
And, mixed with the rest, a red slip that signified a turndown: Atlanta Board #243 We have examined registrant Louetta Johnson and find her not acceptable for selection for the reasons detailed below….
Mulholland paused, turned the red slip over, and read it. Louetta Johnson had been found after due medical examination to be in her twelfth week of pregnancy, this fact being unknown to Miss Johnson, who therefore had not notified the registry center of this change in her status.
He put her slip aside and crossed her name from his list. Within the next hour, he lost two more of his possibles: the 93rd Board, in Troy, New York, reported that Elgin MacNamara had been the victim of a fatal auto accident the very day of his selection the 114th Board, in Elizabethtown, Kentucky, regretfully informed the District Chairman that registrant Thomas Buckley had been taken into custody after allegedly shooting his wife and another man, and would not be eligible for a berth on the Gegenschein.
But, despite these minor setbacks, the list slowly filled.
By 1320 hours, Mulholland's tally showed forty-three men and thirty-nine women assigned to the Gegenschein, with five of his original hundred and ten disqualified and twenty-three yet to be heard from. Not long after that, the first reports began to come in from the far west:
San Francisco Board #326 We have examined registrant Carol Herrick and find her acceptable for selection...
Los Angeles Board #406 We have examined registrant Philip Haas and find him acceptable for selection...
A red slip from Seattle Board #360: Registrant Ethel Pines declared ineligible on medical grounds; registrant Pines has cancer. Mulholland removed the name of Ethel Pines from his list.
By 1340 hours, he was nearing completion. A quick check indicated that he had forty-eight men, forty-six women. Ten of his original hundred and ten were scratched, ineligible. One volunteer. Seven reports were yet to come in.
Ten minutes later, they were in: five acceptables, two rejects. Mulholland drew a line under the column of male names and quickly counted upward: fifty names in all, headed by Cyril Noonan, volunteer. He was short one woman.
Now he reached into his replacement basket and drew out the three cards that had been left over from the Skyrover quota. One man, two women. Mulholland put the man's card aside. He flipped the other two cards into the air. One landed face up; he snatched at it - the card of a woman named Marya Brannick.
Marya Brannick's name was entered in the fiftieth slot on the distaff side of the Gegenschein list. Carefully putting the completed Gegenschein list to one side, Mulholland took tomorrow's Aaron Burr list from its pigeon-hole and inscribe the names of Irwin Halsey and Maribeth Jansen at the heads of the two columns.
He buzzed for Miss Thome.
'Jessie, I've assigned the three leftovers from the Skyrover list. Brannick goes into the Gegenschein, Halsey and Jansen are being held over till tomorrow for the Aaron Burr.'
Miss Thorne nodded efficiently. 'I'll see that the notification goes out to the local boards. Anything else, Mr. Mulholland?'
'I don't think so. Everything's under control.'
She gave him a toothy smile and scuttled back to her adjoining cubicle. Sighing, Mulholland checked the clock. 1358 hours. Astonishing how smoothly the Selection mechanism works, he thought. The list gets filled as if by clockwork.
And it had been clockwork, he realized, with himself doing nothing that a robot was unable to do. He wondered what a film of himself at work on a typical day would look like, speeded up a little. Even more ridiculous than the ancient fast-camera films, no doubt. He would emerge on the screen as an inane fat little bureaucrat, busily pulling lists in and out of pigeonholes, inscribing names, juggling surpluses, carrying forth extra selectees until they were needed, signing documents, self-importantly buzzing for his secretary—