THE MAN WHO RATIONED BABIES By the 23rd century Earth's population had reached seven billion. Mankind was in danger of perishing for lack of elbow room—unless prompt measures were taken. Roy Walton had the power to enforce those measures. But though his job was in the service of humanity, he soon found himself the most hated man in the world. For it was his job to tell parents their children were unfit to live; he had to uproot people from their homes and send them to remote areas of the world.

The offices of the Bureau of Population Equalization, vulgarly known as Popeek, were located on the twentieth through twenty-ninth floors of the Cullen Building, a hundred-story monstrosity typical of twenty-second-century neo-Victorian at its overdecorated worst. Roy Walton, Popeek's assistant administrator, had to apologize to himself each morning as he entered the hideous place. Since taking the job, he had managed to redecorate his own office—on the twenty-eighth floor, immediately below Dir

He stepped out of the office, glancing around furtively. The outer office was busy: half a dozen girls were answering calls, opening letters, coordinating activities. Walton slipped quickly past them into the hallway. There was a knot of fear in his stomach as he turned toward the lift tube. Six weeks of pressure, six weeks of tension since Popeek was organized and old man FitzMaugham had tapped him for the second-in-command post ... and now, a rebellion. The sparing of a single child was a smal

Roy Walton watched his brother's head and shoulders take form out of the swirl of colors on the screen. Fred Walton was more compact, built closer to the ground than his rangy brother; he was a squat five-seven, next to Roy's lean six-two. Fred had always threatened to "get even" with his older brother as soon as they were the same size, but to Fred's great dismay he had never managed to catch up with Roy in height. Even on the screen, Fred's neck and shoulders gave an impression of tremendous s

At precisely 1255 Walton tidied his desk, rose and for the second time that day, left his office. He was apprehensive, but not unduly so; behind his immediate surface fears and tensions lay a calm certainty that FitzMaugham ultimately would stick by him. And there was little to fear from Fred, he realized now. It was next to impossible for a mere lower-level medic to gain the ear of the director himself; in the normal course of events, if Fred attempted to contact FitzMaugham, he would automatic

The new sign on the office door said: ROY WALTON Interim Director Bureau of Population Equalization He had argued against putting it up there, on the grounds that his appointment was strictly temporary, pending a meeting of the General Assembly to choose a new head for Popeek. But Ludwig had maintained it might be weeks or months before such a meeting could be held and that there was no harm in identifying his office. "Everything under control?" the UN man asked. Walton eyed him unhappily. "I gu

The late Director FitzMaugham's files were spread over four floors of the building, but for Walton's purposes the only ones that mattered were those to which access was gained through the director's office alone. A keyboard and screen were set into the wall to the left of the desk. Walton let his fingers rest lightly on the gleaming keys. The main problem facing him, he thought, lay in not knowing where to begin. Despite his careful agenda, despite the necessary marshaling of his thoughts, he wa

The next morning there was a crowd gathered before the Cullen Building when Walton arrived. There must have been at least a hundred people, fanning outward from a central focus. Walton stepped from the jetbus and, with collar pulled up carefully to obscure as much of his face as possible, went to investigate. A small red-faced man stood on a rickety chair against the side of the building. He was flanked by a pair of brass flagpoles, one bearing the American flag and the other the ensign of the U

Walton was becoming hardened to astonishment; the further he excavated into the late director's affairs, the less susceptible he was to the visceral reaction of shock. Still, this stunned him for a moment. "Did you say you'd perfected this technique?" he asked slowly. "Or that it was still in the planning stage?" Lamarre tapped the thick, glossy black portfolio. "In here. I've got it all." He seemed ready to burst with self-satisfaction. Walton leaned back, spread his fingers against the surface

The odd part of it, Walton thought, was that there was absolutely nothing he could do. He could call Sellors and give him a roasting for not guarding his office properly, but that wouldn't restore the missing portfolio. He could send out a general alarm, and thereby let the world know that there was such a thing as Lamarre's formula. That would be catastrophic. Walton slammed the cabinet shut and spun the lock. Then, heavily, he dropped into his chair and rested his head in his arms. All the jub

Crosscurrents of fear ran through Walton. He said, "What are you talking about?" Fred folded his arms complacently. "I don't think it comes as news to you that I broke into your office this morning while you were out. It was very simple: when I installed the lock, I built in a canceling circuit that would let me walk in whenever I pleased. And this morning I pleased. I was hoping to find something I could use as immediate leverage against you, but I hadn't expected anything as explosive as the p

The speech that night went over well ... almost. Walton watched the program in the privacy of his home, sprawled out on the foamweb sofa with a drink in one hand and the text of Percy's shooting-script in the other. The giant screen that occupied nearly half of his one unbroken wall glowed in lifelike colors. FitzMaugham's career was traced with pomp and circumstance, done up in full glory: plenty of ringing trumpet flourishes, dozens of eye-appealing color groupings, much high-pitched, tense na

Walton stared at the photograph of the alien. There was intelligence there ... yes, intelligence and understanding, and perhaps even a sort of compassion. He sighed. There were always qualifications, never unalloyed successes. "Colonel McLeod, how long would it take your ship to return to the Procyon system?" he asked thoughtfully. McLeod considered the question. "Hardly any time, sir. A few days, maybe. Why?" "Just a wild idea. Tell me about your contact with these—ah—Dirnans." "Well, sir, they

The bright light of the video cameras flooded the room. Percy had done a good job; there was a representative from every network, every telefax, every blare of any sort at all. The media had been corralled. Walton's words would echo round the world. He was seated behind his desk—seated, because he could shape his words more forcefully that way, and also because he was terribly tired. He smiled into the battery of cameras. "Good evening," he said. "I'm Roy Walton, speaking to you from the offices

Martinez, security head for the entire Appalachia district, was a small, slight man with unruly hair and deep, piercing eyes. He stared levelly at Walton and said, "Sellors has been with security for twenty years. It's absurd to suggest that he's disloyal." "He's made a great many mistakes," Walton remarked. "I'm simply suggesting that if he's not utterly incompetent he must be in someone else's pay." "And you want us to break a man on your say-so, Director Walton?" Martinez shook his head fussi

Walton looked up at the public relations man and said, "How much do you know about kaleidowhirls, Lee?" "Not a hell of a lot. I never watch the things, myself. They're bad for the eyes." Walton smiled. "That makes you a nonconformist, doesn't it? According to the figures I have here, the nightly kaleidowhirl programs are top-ranked on the rating charts." "Maybe so," Percy said cautiously. "I still don't like to watch them. What goes, Roy?" "I've suddenly become very interested in kaleidowhirls m

Hervey showed up at 1003, grinning broadly. He unfolded a thick wad of documents and thrust them at Walton. "I hold in my hand the world's most potent telefax sheet," Hervey said. He flipped the documents casually onto Walton's desk and laughed. "They're all yours. Fifty-one percent, every bit of it voting stock. I told Murlin about it just before I left him this morning. He turned purple." "What did he say?" "What could he say? I asked him offhandedly if he knew where all the outstanding Citize

Walton stepped off the jetbus at Broadway and West 382nd Street, paused for a moment beneath a street lamp, and fingered his chin to see if his mask were on properly. It was. Three youths stood leaning against a nearby building. "Could you tell me where the block meeting's being held?" Walton asked. "Down the street and turn left. You a telefax man?" "Just an interested citizen," Walton said. "Thanks for the directions." It was easy to see where the block meeting was; Walton saw streams of deter

Walton left the Assembly meeting about 1215, pleading urgent Popeek business. The voting began at 1300, and half an hour later the result was officially released. The 1400 Citizen was the first to carry the report. WALTON ELECTED POPEEK HEAD The General Assembly of the United Nations gave Roy Walton a healthy vote of confidence today. By a 95-0 vote, three abstaining, he was picked to succeed the late D. F. FitzMaugham as Popeek czar. He has held the post on a temporary basis for the past eight

He returned to New York alone, later that night, too tired to sleep and too wide awake to relax. He felt like a poker player who had triumphantly topped four kings with four aces, and now was fumbling in his hand trying to locate some of those aces for his skeptical opponents. The alien had accepted his offer. That was the one solid fact he was able to cling to, on the lonely night ride back from Nairobi. The rest was a quicksand of ifs and maybes. If Lamarre could be found.... If the serum actu

Even after that—for which he felt no guilt, only relief—Walton felt oppressive foreboding hanging over him. Martinez phoned, late that day, to inform him that the hundred landowners had been duly corralled and were being held in the lower reaches of Security Keep. "They're yelling and squalling," Martinez said, "and they'll have plenty of high-power legal authority down here soon enough. You'd better have a case against them." "I'm obtaining an authorization to mind blast the one named di Cassio