REJECT
BY JOHN JOHNSON
The officials had been napping the
day Donnie passed inspection.... How
else could you explain such an error
in his emotional conditioning?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, August 1956.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Donnie clenched his small fists and tried not to cry, but twoelliptical tears ran slowly down his cheeks. The sight of them made Mr.Ames even madder.
"Look at him," he stormed, turning to Martha. "Just look at him. Everydamn time I try to reason with him, he starts to snivel like an animal,instead of acting like a normal human being." Mr. Ames flicked hiscigar ashes toward a vacuum cup on the wall and looked down at the boy."Now stop that stupid crying and tell me what this is all about."
Donnie sniffled a couple of times and wiped his nose on the back of oneof his blue uniform sleeves.
"Well," Mr. Ames said, coldly.
The boy took a deep breath and raised his head. "I want you to spendsome time with me," he said. "I want you to—" he searched the elusiveshadows of memory until he found the word he wanted—"I want you toplay with me. That's it. I want you to play with me once in a while."
Mr. Ames blinked his eyes and stepped back. "Play," he repeated. "Whatdo you mean play?"
Donnie hesitated. "You know," he said, finally, "take me on long walksand sit down and play games and tell me stories once in a while."
"But you've got all the stories you need," Mr. Ames said, waving hishand at the banks of audiotapes stacked neatly on the wall shelves."And your audio-prompter can tell them better than I can."
"Yes," Donnie said, "but that's a machine and I want—"
"What's wrong with a machine," Mr. Ames said, his face getting red."Some of our best things come from machines. Didn't they teach you thatat the Incubator?"
"Yes," the boy said, "but isn't there anything besides machines? Ican't play with machines, I want to play with you!" He began to sobagain.
Mr. Ames dashed his cigar to the floor. "I give up," he said. "By theRed Balls of Jupiter, I give up!"
"Now, Henry," his wife said. "Remember, the boy's only seven."
"Don't 'Henry' me," Mr. Ames said, "And besides, what does being sevenhave to do with it. When I was his age, I was an honor student inphysics. He can't even pass algebra."
Donnie stared at the toes of his boots.
"I've given this kid everything," Mr. Ames went on. "He's going tothe best pre-nuclear school in the whole hemisphere. He's got his ownrocket kit. Why, he's even been on a study cruise to the moon! Howmany kids his age have been to the moon already? I bet no other kid inour project has been there. And what do I get as a reward." Mr. Amesdidn't wait for an answer. "Trouble. That's what I get, trouble. Why inGalaxy he can't leave me alone like a normal child is more than I canunderstand." He stopped for breath and lit a fresh cigar.
"Maybe the boy's sick," Martha said timidly.
Mr. Ames ignored her. "I've tried to be a good father to him," he said,his voice self-righteous. "I'm giving him a chance to make somethingout of himself. All I ask is that he be of service to the world, andmake me proud of him some day. But what does he do? Does he concentrateon his career, like the rest of the kids? Hell, no, he wants to hangaround me, always underfoot, always asking stupid questions. Play!" Mr.Ames snor