Overpopulation -- Fiction; Satire; Science fiction; Short stories; United States -- Economic conditions -- Fiction; Work -- Fiction
Winthrop pushed Davy gently to one side and held the boy to him as he
walked over to Ann. He put a hand in the small of her back and held her
against his chest. She rested her head against the upper part of his
arm and leaned against him.
Ann lifted her head, stood on her toes and kissed Winthrop. She pulled
away and led him over to a chair, Davy still hanging on to his leg.
"You must be tired," she said. "Ten hours you've been out. Were you
able to.... Did you--"
"No," said Winthrop. "Nothing. Not so much as a soybean." He looked
at his wife and smiled. "I guess the time has come for us to eat that
potato. We've been saving it for a month."
Ann's eyes wrinkled as she looked down at him. "Oh. I--I gave it to the
Brookses. They haven't had anything in weeks." The words began to pour
out. "We have done so well, really, in the last few weeks that I felt
sorry for them. We had those cabbage leaves and three potatoes and even
that piece of fish four months ago. I couldn't help myself. I gave--I
gave our potato to them. They were so sick of Standard Fare they were
beginning to get depressed, really depressed. I--"
Winthrop reached up and put an arm around her hips and said, "Don't
think about it, darling." He was silent for a moment, and then he
continued, "I think I'll go down and see if John Barlow has some work
for me. Let's have a quick dinner of Standard Fare and then I'll go."
He got up and walked over to the sink and began washing Davy's hands,
talking, joshing, teasing a little as he did so.
Ann took three glasses from the tiny cabinet. She went to the synthetic
milk faucet and filled the glasses and then put them on the table. She
went to the bread slot and removed six slices of bread. One after the
other she dropped the six slices of brown bread through the toaster.
She picked up a knife and scooped big gobs of rich yellow synthetic
butter out of the butter slot and spread it on the toast. She made
a pile of the toast on a plate and then cut the pile in half. "All
right," she called. And she put the toast on the table and sat down.
Winthrop helped Davy into a chair and then sat down himself. He bent
his head and spoke a brief blessing. And they all ate. They ate
Standard Fare, as countless billions of other people did that night,
and every night, from birth to death, Standard Fare.
When the meal was done Winthrop got up and kissed Ann and Davy
goodbye. He rode down the spiral escalator, down to the ground floor,
and below. Great throngs of people rode with him, crowded in on each
other. He rode down to the fifteenth sub-level and changed to a belt.
He rode past the crowded TV theaters, the amusement halls. He stepped
off and went down a narrow side alley where some of the shops were.
Immediately the crowds fell off. A little way down the alley Winthrop
turned into the door of a tiny store. It was empty except for John
Barlow, the owner.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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