Wyndham, John – The Midwich Cuckoos

‘Quite so,’ agreed the doctor.

Zellaby nodded. ‘Then, it is possible, is it not, in some of the lower forms at any rate, to induce parthenogenesis?’

‘But not, as far as is known, among any of the higher forms – certainly not among mammals.’

‘Quite. Well then, there is artificial insemination.’

‘There is,’ admitted the doctor.

‘But you don’t think so.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Nor do I. And that,’ Zellaby went on, a little grimly, ‘leaves the possibility of implantation, which could result in what someone – Huxley, I fancy – has called “xenogenesis”. That is, the production of a form that could be unlike that of the parent – or, should one perhaps say, “host”? – It would not be the true parent.’

Dr Willers frowned.

I’ve been hoping that that might not occur to them,’ he said.

Zellaby shook his head.

‘A hope, my dear fellow, that you would do better to abandon. It may not occur to them straight away, but it is the explanation – if that is not too definite a word – that the intelligent ones are bound to arrive at before long. For, look here. We can agree, can we not, to dismiss parthenogenesis? – there has never been a reliably documented case?’

The doctor nodded.

‘Well then, it will soon become as clear to them as it is to me, and must be to you, that both crude assault and a.i. are put right out of court by sheer mathematics. And this, incidentally, would seem to apply to parthenogenesis, too, if that were possible. By the law of averages it simply is not possible in any sizeable group of women taken at random, for more than twenty-five per cent of them to be in the same stage of pregnancy at the same time.’

‘Well -‘ began the doctor, doubtfully.

‘All right, let us make a concession to, say, thirty-three and a third per cent – which is high. But then, if your estimate of the incidence is right, or anywhere near right, the present situation is still statistically quite impossible. Ergo, whether we like it or not, we are thrown back upon the fourth, and last possibility – that implantation of fertilized ova must have taken place during the Dayout.’

Willers was looking very unhappy, and still not altogether convinced.

‘I’d question your “and last” – there could be other possibilities that have not occurred to us.’

With a touch of impatience, Zellaby said:

‘Can you suggest any form of conception that does not come up against that mathematical barrier? – No? Very well. Then it follows that this cannot be conception: therefore it must be incubation.’

The doctor sighed.

‘All right. I’ll grant you that,’ he said. ‘For myself, I am only incidentally concerned about how it happened: my anxiety is for the welfare of those who are, and are going to be, my patients …’

‘You will be concerned, later on,’ Zellaby put in, ‘because, since they are all at the same stage now, it follows that the births are going to occur – barring accidents – over a quite limited period later on. All round about the end of June, or the first week in July – everything else being normal, of course.’

‘At present,’ Willers continued firmly, ‘my chief worry is to decrease their anxiety, not to increase it. And for that reason we must do our best to stop this implantation idea getting about, for as long as we can. It’s panicky stuff. For their good I ask you to pooh-pooh, convincingly, any suggestion of the kind that may come your way.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Zellaby, after consideration. ‘Yes. I agree. Here, we really do have a case for benign censorship, I think.’ He frowned. ‘It is difficult to appreciate how a woman sees these matters: all that I can say is that if I were to be called upon, even in the most propitious circumstances, to bring forth life, the prospect would awe me considerably: had I any reason to suspect that it might be some unexpected form of life, I should probably go quite mad. Most women wouldn’t, of course; they are mentally tougher, but some might, so a convincing dismissal of the possibility will be best.’

He paused, considering.

‘Now we ought to get down to giving my wife a line to work on. There are various angles to be covered. One of the most tricky is going to be publicity – or, rather, no publicity.’

‘Lord, yes,’ said Willers. ‘Once the Press get hold of it -‘

‘I know. God help us if they do. Day-by-day commentary, with six months of gloriously mounting speculation to go. They certainly wouldn’t miss the xenogenesis angle. More likely to run a forecasting competition. All right, then; MI managed to keep the Dayout out of the papers; we’ll have to see what they can do about this.

‘Now, let’s rough out the approach for her …’

CHAPTER 9

Keep it Dark

THE canvassing for attendance at what was not very informatively described as a ‘Special Emergency Meeting of Great Importance to every Woman in Midwich’ was intensive. We ourselves were visited by Gordon Zellaby who managed to convey a quite dramatic sense of urgency through a considerable wordage which gave practically nothing away. His parrying of attempts to pump him only added to the interest.

Once people had been convinced that it was not simply a matter of another Civil Defence drive, or any other of the hardy regulars, they developed a strong curiosity as to what it could possibly be that could put the doctor, the vicar, their wives, the district-nurse, and both the Zellabys, too, to the trouble of seeing that everyone was called on and given a personal invitation. The very evasiveness of the callers, backed by their reassurances that there would be nothing to pay, no collection, and a free tea for all, had caused inquisitiveness to triumph even in the naturally suspicious, and there were few empty seats.

The two chief convenors sat on the platform with Angela Zellaby, looking a little pale, between them. The doctor smoked, with a nervous intensity. The vicar seemed lost in an abstraction from which he would rouse himself now and then to make a remark to Mrs Zellaby who responded to it with an absent-minded air. They allowed ten minutes for laggards, then the doctor asked for the doors to be closed, and opened the proceedings with a brief, but still uninformative, insistence on their importance. The vicar then added his support. He concluded:

‘I earnestly ask every one of you here to listen very carefully indeed to what Mrs Zellaby has to say. We are greatly indebted to her for her willingness to put the matter before you. And I want you to know in advance that she has the endorsement of Dr Willers and myself for everything she is going to tell you. It is, I assure you, only because we feel that this matter may come more acceptably and, I am sure, more ably, from a woman to women that we have burdened her with the task.

‘Dr Willers and I will now leave the hall, but we shall remain on the premises. When Mrs Zellaby has finished we shall, if you wish, return to the platform, and do our best to answer questions. And now I ask you to give Mrs Zellaby your closest attention.’

He waved the doctor ahead of him, and they both went out by a door at the side of the platform. It swung-to behind them, but did not close entirely.

Angela Zellaby drank from a glass of water on the table before her. She looked down for a moment at her hands resting on her notes. Then she raised her head, waiting for the murmurs to die down. When they had, she looked her audience over carefully as if noticing every face there.

‘First,’ she said, ‘I must warn you. What I have to tell you is going to be difficult for me to say, difficult for you to believe, too difficult for any of us to understand at present.’ She paused, dropped her eyes, and then looked up once more.

‘I,’ she said, ‘am going to have a baby. I am very, very glad, and happy about it. It is natural for women to want babies, and to be happy when they know they are coming. It is not natural, and it is not good to be afraid of them. Babies should be joy and fun. Unhappily, there are a number of women in Midwich who are not able to feel like that. Some of them are miserable, ashamed, and afraid. It is for their benefit we have called this meeting. To help the unhappy ones, and to assure them that they need be none of these things.’

She looked steadily round her audience again. There was a sound of caught breath here and there.

‘Something very, very strange has happened here. And it has not happened just to one or two of us, but to almost all of us – to almost all the women in Midwich who are capable of bearing children.’

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