The Swintons lived in one of the ritziest city-blocks, half a kilometer above the ground. Embedded in other apartments, their apartment had no windows to the outside; nobody wanted to see the overcrowded external world. Henry unlocked the door with his retina pattern-scanner and walked in, followed by the serving-man.
At once, Henry was surrounded by the friendly illusion of gardens set in eternal summer. It was amazing what Whologram could do to create huge mirages in small spaces. Behind its roses and wisteria stood their house; the deception was complete: a Georgian mansion appeared to welcome him.
“How do you like it?” he asked the serving-man.
“Roses occasionally suffer from black spot.”
“These roses are guaranteed free from any imperfections.”
“It is always advisable to purchase goods with guarantees, even if they cost slightly more.”
“Thanks for the information,” Henry said dryly. Synthetic lifeforms were less than ten years old, the old android mechanicals less than sixteen; the faults of their systems were still being ironed out, year by year.
He opened the door and called to Monica.
She came out of the sitting-room immediately and flung her arms round him, kissing him ardently on cheek and lips. Henry was amazed.
Pulling back to look at her face, he saw how she seemed to generate light and beauty. It was months since he had seen her so excited. Instinctively, he clasped her tighter.
“Darling, what’s happened?”
“Henry, Henry — oh, my darling, I was in despair … but I’ve just dialed the afternoon post and — you’ll never believe it!
Oh, it’s wonderful!”
“For heaven’s sake, woman, what’s wonderful?”
He caught a glimpse of the heading on the photostat in her hand, still moist from the wall-receiver: Ministry of Population. He felt the color drain from his face in sudden shock and hope.
“Monica … oh … Don’t tell me our number’s come up!”
“Yes, my darling, yes, we’ve won this week’s parenthood lottery!
We can go ahead and conceive a child at once!”
He let out a yell of joy. They danced round the room. Pressure of population was such that reproduction had to be strict, controlled. Childbirth required government permission. For this moment, they had waited four years. Incoherently they cried their delight.
They paused at last, gasping and stood in the middle of the room to laugh at each other’s happiness. When she had come down from the nursery, Monica had de-opaqued the windows so that they now revealed the vista of garden beyond. Artificial sunlight was growing long and golden across the lawn — and David and Teddy were staring through the window at them.
Seeing their faces, Henry and his wife grew serious.
“What do we do about them?” Henry asked.
“Teddy’s no trouble. He works well.”
“Is David malfunctioning?”
“His verbal communication center is still giving trouble. I think he’ll have to go back to the factory again.”
“Okay. We’ll see how he does before the baby’s born. Which reminds me—I have a surprise for you: help just when help is needed! Come into the hall and see what I’ve got.”
As the two adults disappeared from the room, boy and bear sat down beneath the standard roses.
“Teddy — I suppose Mummy and Daddy are real, aren’t they?”
Teddy said, “You ask such silly questions, David. Nobody knows what real really means. Let’s go indoors.”
“First I’m going to have another rose!” Plucking a bright pink flower, he carried it with him into the house. It could lie on the pillow as he went to sleep. Its beauty and softness reminded him of Mummy.