Frank was leaning against the sink, listening. Now he took three steps forward and sat down on the bed. He didn't look at her as he spoke. "Well, we gotta do something," he said. "You don't want those shots and that's for sure. Maybe I can have one of those other things instead, those whaddya-call-'ems." "You mean where they operate you, like?" "That's right. A vas-something. You know, sterilize you. Then we won't have to worry." Minnie took a deep breath. Then she sat down and put her arm around Frank. "But you wanted kids," she murmured. "You told me, when we got married, you always wanted to have a son--" Frank pulled away. "Sure I do," he said. "A son. That's what I want. A _real_ son. Not a freak. Not a damned little monster that has to go to the Clinic every month and take injections so it won't grow. And what happens to you if you take _your_ shots now? What if they drive you crazy or something?" Minnie put her arm around Frank again and made him look at her. "That's not true," she told him. "That's just a lot of Naturalist talk. I know." "Hell you do." "But I do, honey! Honest, like! May Stebbins, she took the shots last year, when they asked for volunteers. And she's all right. You seen her baby yourself, remember? It's the sweetest little thing, and awful smart! So maybe it wouldn't be so bad." "I'll ask about being operated tomorrow," Frank said. "Forget it. It don't matter." "Of course it matters." Minnie looked straight at him. "Don't you think I know what you been going through? Sweating it out on that job day after day, going nuts in the traffic, saving up the ration coupons so's we'd have extra food for the honeymoon and all? "You didn't have to marry me, you know that. It was just like we could have a place of our own together, and kids. Well, we're gonna have 'em, honey. I'll take the shots." Frank shook his head but said nothing. "It won't be so bad," Minnie went on. "The shots don't hurt at all, and they make it easier, carrying the baby. They say you don't even get morning sickness or anything. And just think, when we have a kid, we get a chance for a bigger place. We go right on the housing lists. We can have two rooms. A real bedroom, maybe." Frank stared at her. "Is that all you can think about?" he asked. "A real bedroom?" "But honey--" "What about the kid?" he muttered. "How you suppose it's gonna feel? How'd you like to grow up and _not_ grow up? How'd you like to be a midget three feet high in a world where everybody else is bigger? What kind of a life you call _that_? I want my son to have a decent chance." "He will have."