Epistolary fiction; Science fiction; Short stories
MAN IN A QUANDARY
By L. J. STECHER, JR.
Illustrated by MARTINEZ
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Science Fiction July 1958.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
If you were in my--well, shoes, if you don't mind
stretching a point--what would you do about this?
Dear Miss Dix VI:
I have a problem. In spite of rumors to the contrary, my parents were
properly married, and were perfectly normal people at the time I was
born. And so was I--normal, I mean. But that all contributed to the
creation of my problem.
I do not know if you can help me resolve it, but you have helped so
many others that I am willing to try you. I enjoin you not to answer
this letter in your column; write me privately, please.
You know all about me, of course. Who doesn't? But most of what you
know about me is bound to be almost entirely wrong. So I will have to
clarify my background before I present my problem.
Know, then, that I am Alfred the Magnificent. It surprises you, I
imagine, that I would be writing a letter to Miss Dix VI. After all, in
spite of the tax rate, I am one of the richest--I will say it!--one of
the richest _men_ in the world.
Every word of that last statement is true. My parents were enormously
wealthy, but I have accumulated even more of the world's goods than
they ever did. And if they had not been loaded with loot, I would not
be here now to be writing this letter to you.
Please excuse any lack of smoothness in the style and execution of this
letter. I'm doing this all myself. Usually I dictate to a secretary--a
live secretary--but you understand that that would not be advisable for
a letter of this kind, I'm sure.
* * * * *
So. My background. I was born in 2352 and, having passed my infantile
I.Q. test with flying colors, was admitted to the Harvard Creche for
Superior Children at the usual age of three months.
The name of Alfred Vanderform naturally had been entered on the rolls
much earlier. Ten years earlier, in point of fact. My parents had been
fortunate enough to be selected to have three children and I was to be
their first. They chose to begin with a son. They had known that they
would be chosen, and that I would be a superior child, and had taken
the wise precaution of signing me up for Harvard Creche as soon as the
planners had finished drawing up their preliminary charts.
In spite of what you may have heard, there was absolutely no chance of
falsifying the initial I.Q. examination; in those days, at least. I was
a physically normal, mentally superior child. My progress at the creche
was entirely satisfactory. I was an ordinarily above-average genius in
every way.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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