50 in 50

He hobbled away until he was clear of the buildings, then gratefully set the pack down. It was too much of a burden to take back to the transmatter. He triggered the destruct and went on while it burned fiercely behind him. Expensive equipment, but it would go on the bill. They would choose to accept and pay, — they really did not have much of a choice. It would be for their benefit. Not so much now, but in the long run. The two squat figures were still in the doorway looking after him and he turned quickly away.

What did they expect, charity? The universe was uncharitable. You had to pay for what you took from it. That was a natural law that could not be broken.

And he was doing his job, that was all.

It was just a job.

He was helping them.

Wasn't he?

Stumbling, sweating, and gasping, he hurried to be away from this place.

MAKE ROOM! MAKE ROOM!

When I wrote my novel Make Room! Make Room! I was greatly concerned about the threat presented by uncontrolled population growth and environmental destruction. (After all, one causes the other.) Some thirty-five years later my worst predictions seem to be coming true. The developing nations — which truthfully should be called the never-to-be-developed nations — are already on the slippery slope to destruction. Too many people competing for too few resources, and the scourge AIDS decimating them as well — as if they did not have enough trouble already.

The developed world apparently cannot care less. Many countries are approaching ZPG, zero population growth. Apparently preferring the better life — and a better TV set — to a third child. While at the same time refusing to do anything about planetary warming. There is cause for despair. So what will happen to our overpopulated globe? In the stories here I have explored some possible futures.

A Criminal Act

The first blow of the hammer shook the door in its frame, and the second blow made the thin wood boom like a drum. Benedict Vernall threw the door open before a third stroke could fall and pushed his gun into the stomach of the man with the hammer.

"Get going. Get out of here.” Benedict said, in a much shriller voice than he had planned to use.

"Don't be foolish.” the bailiff said quietly, stepping aside so that the two guards behind him in the hall were clearly visible. "I am the bailiff and I am doing my duty. If I am attacked these men have orders to shoot you and everyone else in your apartment. Be intelligent. Yours is not the first case like this. Such things are planned for."

One of the guards clicked off the safety catch on his submachine gun, smirking at Benedict as he did it. Benedict let the pistol fall slowly to his side.

"Much better," the bailiff told him and struck the nail once more with the hammer so that the notice was fixed firmly to the door.

"Take that filthy thing down," Benedict said, choking over the words.

" 'Benedict Vernall.’ " the bailiff said, adjusting his glasses on his nose as he read from the proclamation he had just posted. " 'This is to inform you that pursuant to the Criminal Birth Act of 2053 you are guilty of the act of criminal birth and are hereby proscribed and no longer protected from bodily injury by the forces of this sovereign state. . ' "

"You're going to let some madman kill me — what kind of a dirty law is that?"

The bailiff removed his glasses and gazed coldly along his nose at Benedict. "Mr. Vernall," he said, "have the decency to accept the results of your own actions. Did you or did you not have an illegal baby?"

"Illegal? Never! A harmless infant…"

Do you or do you not already have the legal maximum of two children?"

"We have two, but…"

"You refused advice or aid from your local birth control clinic. You expelled, with force, the birth guidance officer who called upon you. You rejected the offer of the abortion clinic—" "Murderers!"