‘No, probably not,’ said the government envoy, Temple. ‘Those didn’t last very long. Some mutated form of another disease, I imagine. We get them all the time.’

  ‘Well, anyway, this ain’t such a bad little town we got,’ said Johnson. ‘We’re pretty happy, though o’ course we need a lot o’ things yet. We take care of our muties, too – more ‘n I can say for some places,’ he added darkly.

  Temple sighed. ‘I know. Infanticide. Anti-mutant mobs. Local pogroms. It never helps. Mutants keep right on being born. It’s in the race by now. We’ll never be rid of it.’

  ‘Reckon not,’ said Johnson. ‘We can find somethin’ for ever’body to do. Stupid muties dig, work in the fields, cut wood. Crippled ones is weavers an’ carpenters an’ so on. We got one young girl born without eyes, but she’s the smartest tailor you ever did see.’

  ‘Good for you,’ said Temple.

  ‘Oh, it ain’t me entirely,’ said Johnson, puffing himself out a bit. ‘We ain’t like some places I could name. We got a dem-moc-cracy here. Me, the Boss, I’m just sort of judge an’ chairman o’ town meetin’s, an’ in case o’ war I got to lead. That’s all. By the way, Collie – uh, Jim,’ he added, ‘I wouldn’t worry about them savages you met today. I sent out scouts, an’ they say there’s no sign of a war party. Must just’a been a couple o’ tramps.’

  Temple smiled wryly. ‘We nearly had our trip for nothing, Mr. Collingwood,’ he said. ‘If you’d been killed out there—’

  Collie shuffled his feet and locked down at the table.

  ‘You still ain’t said just what you want our boy for,’ said Johnson. ‘I was hopin’ you’d come to ‘stablish some reg’lar connections with the guv’mint. Trade, a airline – you know. Hell, we don’t even get to vote.’

  ‘And you don’t pay taxes either,’ said Temple. ‘Which are pretty steep these days. Lot of reconstruction to do, education, re-integration. We’ll get around to you when we can, Boss, but meanwhile I think you’re just as well cut of civilization.’

  The village chief’s small eyes rested thoughtfully on the other man. He wasn’t stupid. ‘I got a hunch there’s more to it than that,’ he said, slowly.

  ‘Well, yes, there is,’ said Temple. ‘I can tell you, because you’ve had an enlightened policy toward mutants, but I’d rather the word didn’t spread too far.’

  ‘Sure, go ahead,’ Johnson took an apple off the dessert plate and bit into it. ‘Try one o’ these, why don’t you? Mutie stock – got a kind of chestnut flavor.’

  ‘The fear and revulsion aroused by the mutants has led to some pretty ghastly episodes,’ said Temple quietly. ‘Lynchings, murders – well, you know the story, I’m sure. We’ve got to stop that, but we just haven’t the men or the resources to police the continent. We have to concentrate on building up our industry in the most promising areas, and more or less let the rest go for the time being. There are literally thousands of primitive communities like your own, from the Yukon to the Rio Grande. They weren’t hit directly by the war, but the breakdown of industry and transportation threw them back on their own resources, and they’ve had to return to a natural economy. And one which is still, to some extent, menaced by roving bandit gangs, so that they have to maintain armed strength as well. We could do more for them, even now, than we are, but we’re holding back, leaving most of them on their own for several years more.’

  There was a moment’s silence. The fire crackled loudly in the room. ‘How come?’ asked Johnson.

  ‘Because of the anti-mutant hysteria and killing. As I said, we – the government – can’t stop it everywhere. But a primitive community, threatened from outside, needs all its members. Before long, it learns from experience that it can’t discriminate, because it needs every pair of hands to work and fight. Therefore, after a while, the mutants become accepted.’

  Johnson rumbled something in his throat. He didn’t like what had been said – in some ways, it was humiliating. ‘If you’re through eatin’, gents,’ he muttered, ‘let’s move into the livin’ room.’

  The house had been a large and gracious one before the war, but the attrition of time had gaunted it. The walls were bare and splotchy, the floor creaked underfoot, the furniture was old and shabby, the repairs were unskillful. The one truly good item was a chair of recent manufacture. Temple paused to admire it. ‘Craftsmanship,’ he said.

  ‘One-eyed Bill did that,’ answered Johnson, somewhat mollified. ‘A mutie – born with just one good eye – but he can sure handle wood.’

  His hostility was quite dissolved when Temple offered him a cigar. He held it reverently. ‘Tobacco!’ he whispered. ‘Ain’t seen none in ten, twelve years. An’ that was lousy stuff.’

  ‘This isn’t prewar quality, I’m afraid,’ smiled Temple.

  He turned to Collie, who sat shyly in a corner. ‘But we came about you, Mr. Collingwood,’ he went on.

  Collie’s face felt hot, but he made himself meet Temple’s eyes. ‘What for?’he asked.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ said Temple. ‘But we’d like to take you with us to Taylor — the capital.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘If you want to go,’ added Temple hastily.

  ‘Bu-bu-but—’

  ‘Look, Mr. Collingwood, I understand you’re a mutant with amazing powers.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ mumbled Collie, looking at the floor and twisting his hands together. ‘I can run faster’n anybody else, maybe, an’ jump better, an’ hold my breath longer. That’s all.’

  ‘That’s plenty! You don’t have any troubles, do you? Anything wrong?’

  When Collie didn’t answer, Johnson said: ‘No. He’s a lucky boy, he is.’

  ‘You don’t realize how lucky,’ said Temple. ‘About seventy-five percent of human births since the war have been mutant in one way or another, and even though the radioactivity that caused it is dying down now, the percentage of such births is going up instead of down. That’s because more and more mutated genes are finding their complements as the mutants themselves reach the age of reproduction – well, never mind that.

  ‘The point is that a large proportion of the mutations have been harmless, or at least not a serious handicap – just meaningless deformities. A somewhat larger proportion have been unfavorable in greater degree. That’s only natural, of course. A random change is much more likely to be for the worse instead of the better.

  ‘In fact, harmless and bad mutations account for practically all the new births. The number of truly favorable, valuable ones is infinitesimal. Maybe half a million since the war, throughout the world, maybe even less. Mr. Collingwood has one of them. There are damn few people who have others.’

  ‘All right,’ said Collie hoarsely. ‘What of it?’

  ‘You’ll excuse a few personal questions, I’m sure,’ said Temple. ‘Do you have any dependents here, close relatives – anything to make you stay?’

  ‘No,’ said Collie. ‘Got no family. My mother died years ago. She had a kid, an’ the mutie thing was too big, an’—’ He stopped, his fists closing.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ whispered Temple.

  ‘Dad got drowned one spring when the river was in flood,’ went on Collie. ‘I got two sisters, they’re both married now. Nobody else.’

  ‘Women are still scarce around here,’ added Boss Johnson. ‘Ain’t easy f’r a young man to get a wife. I been sort o’ thinkin’ I’d give Collie my Janet, she’s born human, but she’s only thirteen now an’ it’s better to wait a couple years.’

  ‘But nothing binding, right?’ said Temple. ‘You could come with us if you wanted to.’

  ‘Why, I reckon so,’ answered Collie. He was beginning to overcome his timidity. ‘But what for?’

  ‘We want to get all the good mutants we can together,’ said Temple. ‘We don’t like them running around where any accident could kill them, the way you nearly died today, when the race needs their heredity so desperately.’

  Collie flushed, Johnson slapped his thigh and guffawed. ‘Settin’ you out to stud, hey, boy?’ he cried.

  ‘No, no.’ Temple frowned. ‘Nothing like that. You’d have a home given you, education, if you want it – be an ordinary citizen, free to leave anytime you wished. Of course, I can’t promise you that till the doctors have looked you over, but I’m sure you’ll pass. We can talk about it later if you’re interested.’

  Collie looked up. It was only now beginning to grow in him, what this meant.

  Johnson cleared his throat. ‘I got a boy,’ he said diffidently. ‘Six years old, about, but smart’s a whip. Real smart. ‘Course, he got a funny heart, gets pains in it, but he’s real smart. Your doctors could mebbe—’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Temple with gentleness. ‘That isn’t what we’re looking for. But we’ll sending medical missions around to this district soon.’

  Collie didn’t hear. He couldn’t, above the wild clamor in his ears. Taylor – the capital of North America – civilization – the world!

  The world!

  III

  The mountains slipped away beneath them, the tall and lonely Tetons, Jackson Hole, the Bitteroot Range, deep valleys and shining rivers, forests green and fair, and then the farmlands which reached beyond sight. Collie had to pull his eyes away from the country below.

  The cabin was full of the engine-purr, not loud, but everywhere, in your ears and muscles and bones. He had been told they were traveling a hundred miles an hour or better – fantastic, meaningless figure – but he found it hard to believe, the land changed so slowly down there. ‘When’ll we be in Taylor?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, some hours yet,’ answered Temple. ‘Toward evening, I guess.’

  ‘I—’ Collie stirred restlessly. He wasn’t used to such cramped quarters, though he could sit motionless for a whole day in a blind. ‘All that way for me?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Temple. ‘You’re more valuable than you know, Collie, if you want me to call you that.’

  ‘Ever’body else does.’

  ‘Well, then, I’m Bob, eh?’

  Collie shook his head, a little dazedly. It still seemed like a dream. This time yesterday he was setting out after a catamount.

  ‘How’d you find me?’ he asked, forcing down his awkwardness. ‘It’s a big country, an’ we never had much to do with outsiders.’

  ‘Oh, word gets around,’ said Temple. ‘Hunters, traders, or the better sort of tramp – they spread gossip. Without other communication, your kind of people are always interested in gossip.

  ‘We, that is, the survey teams, are always out, visiting selected communities, studying them, talking to people – trying to learn as much as we can. The government has to know, for a number of reasons. One reason is just so we can find out what help you need most, and give it to you. But the teams keep their ears especially open for stories about favorable mutations. When they hear any such tale, they track it down at once.’

  Temple sighed. ‘Not many of them are true. Stories get distorted, or wishful thinking blends in, or somebody has just been lying. But every once in a while, we do find a really good case. Like yours.’

  Collie sat quiet for a little, too embarrassed to talk further. Then, to change the subject, he asked: ‘What’s it like out there? Where you are, I mean. The guv’mint.’

  Temple laughed. ‘That would take a long time to answer, Collie. We’ve got a union of all North America now – except Mexico, anyway, which wanted to stay independent. Officially, you’re a citizen too, even if we haven’t been able to do much about your people yet. It’s not such a bad place to live, nowadays. There’s enough to eat, and we’re turning out some fine new machines, and there’s travel and communication everywhere. It’s a free country too, though maybe not as free as it once was. But I think you’ll like it.’

  ‘But how ‘bout the rest o’ the world? What’s it like for them?’

  Temple reached into a cabinet and got out a book. ‘Here are some maps,’ he said. ‘Look, here’s a map of the world. This is North America, and—’

  ‘I know,’ said Collie, a trifle miffed. ‘We got a school to home. I can read an’ write, some, an’ they taught joggerphy too.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Temple musingly, half to himself, ‘literacy dies hard. There were too many books around, even after the war. Knowledge wasn’t lost, though in places like yours it couldn’t be applied.’

  ‘Books don’t say too much,’ Collie told him. ‘Not much we can use, like how to make a gun. Handiest damn book in town was somethin’ called a Boy Scout manual. Most o’ what we use, we had to figger out f’r ourselves.’

  ‘I know. It was that way everywhere. Civilization got too far from the basics, it turned too many of its members into specialized cogs that couldn’t exist once the great machine had broken down. Sometimes I wonder if the cycle of wars that ended with the mutants didn’t express some deep unconscious hatred of the whole thing. But I’m daydreaming now, Collie. You wanted to know about the world.

  ‘Look, Latin America is coming back like us, though not in the same form. Brazil, Argentina, Venezuela, and Mexico have absorbed just about all the other states, though their governments are often shadowy things. We won’t have to reckon with them till they get a lot better organized, and a lot more industry; and then we hope they’ll be our friends.

  ‘Now, here in the Pacific, Australia and New Zealand are still going concerns, they weren’t too badly hit in the first place. They more or less run the South Pacific Ocean. Malaya dominates the archipelago and the Indian Ocean.

  ‘The Near East is still pretty anarchic, though Turkey has taken over most of it. Territorially, it’s almost a revival of the old Ottoman empire, with a slice of southern Russia added, though the Turks run it better now than they did once. North Africa is partly Turkish, partly independent Arab and Berber states. Barbaric. South Africa was taken over by the negroes, who’re building up a state reaching from Capetown to the Congo. All of this is still technologically backward, little heard from.

  ‘Europe is a tottering ruin, most of it lost to barbarism. There’s a Russian state, bordering on the Baltic, but it’s pretty feeble, and squeezed in between Ukraine and Siberia. Big chunks of India have been taken over by Afghan warlords, the rest has gone back to something timeless. China is split into warring provinces, most of it no further along than your own people, Collie.

  ‘Now here’s Siberia.’ Temple’s face and voice harshened. ‘It set itself up as independent when the old Russian government vanished. Not being too badly hurt, and having a certain amount of industry, an energetic population, and plenty of natural resources, it came back fast – as fast as we, if not more so. It’s annexed Manchuria, you can see, and Mongolia and Korea; Japan is its puppet, as are several of the North Chinese states. We don’t know a great deal about it, international communication is still pretty slim, but it’s a hardboiled outfit, and its Khan – well, you can learn about that later on.’

  Collie subsided. He hadn’t followed all of what was said, though he got the drift. The vision of a planet in ruin was not saddening to him, he’d grown up with it. But he began for the first time to realize just how big the world was, how big and strange and threatening.

  He wished he could turn around and go back, bury himself in his mountains and woods, forget the world that roared outside. But it was too late. Already it was too late …

  Taylor wasn’t large by the old standards; even today, there were bigger cities. But to Collie it was enormous, a reaching, rearing vastness of buildings, rushing steel streams of traffic, spider-web streets, hastening crowds, blinking signs, always the noise like a haze in the air. It looked new and hard and shiny. But then, he remembered, most of it was new, grown up in the last thirty years or less. Chance had grabbed an insignificant town on the slopes of the Cascades and made it the center of a continent.

  He was glad that they landed outside the city proper, on a mountain shelf that overlooked it and bore a cluster of buildings which might have been erected only yesterday. Beyond them, lawns and gardens and tree-shaded lanes extended through a village of small homes. A high stone wall blocked off the end of a cliff that tumbled toward a misty gorge below. It was a nice place, he supposed.

  The helicopter settled gently on a field, and Temple led Collie into a big building. It was, like most of them, a thing of curving lines and flat planes and enormous windows, faced with a smooth pastel-tinted plastic. Within, it was quiet, a few people working at desks or going down the halls on errands. They stopped to stare at Collie and then, as if realizing the error, hurried on.

  Temple took him into a dining hall where there were some others eating and ordered dinner for him. ‘Just relax,’ he said. ‘We’re all your friends here.’

  ‘Ever’body eat in this place?’ asked Collie.

  ‘Not unless they want to. Most of them cook in their own houses, the same as anybody else. Just remember, all of us here are either like you or else here to help your kind. You’re the real owner, or one of them.’

  ‘I still ain’t – I’m not sure just what you want of me.’

  ‘To have you here, safe from danger. That’s all, Collie. And don’t be afraid, you won’t be kept here longer than you yourself wish.’

  ‘Hm.’ Collie felt a little doubtful. Still, what the hell? He attacked the dinner with real appetite. It was good.

  Afterward there was a session in a doctor’s office, where they did a lot of incomprehensible things. ‘It’ll take about a week for complete examination,’ said the doctor. ‘We want to test everything we can. But right now you look good to me.’