FRUITS OF THE AGATHON
A novelet by
CHARLES L. HARNESS
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Thrilling Wonder Stories December 1948.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
AGATHON: (From Greek, agathos, good, and thanatos, death.)Employed briefly during the pre-Toring era. When the death of acitizen of interest to the Lodges was predicted by his biostat(q.v.), the Council arranged secretly for the demise to occur underthe circumstances considered most beneficial to the world. After thepersonality factors of all principals concerned had been integratedand the death plan (or agathon) determined, it was carried out by thelocal preceptor.
Immediately after the famed Follansbee case, however, agathonpractice was suppressed and all biostats destroyed.—Encyclopedia ofFreudianism, Naida's Rev. Vol. 1, p. 14, Budapest, 1983.
The little man, Blanchard, said with no trace of defiance or apology:"My daughter Naida is a moron."
Behind the desk Toring, the Freudian, shifted slightly under the longgray cape that covered his entire body, and turned his eyes fromBlanchard to the girl huddled in the wheel chair. She was perhapseighteen or twenty, dressed neatly in tweeds. Her face was averted,and the Freudian could see only a pale-olive cheek, hidden partly byslender fingers and dark brown hair.
He sighed and shook his head. "We cannot increase native intelligence.But you didn't bring your daughter here for that, anyway.
"No, I didn't." Blanchard's voice was double-edged with both pleadingand threat. "Something has scared her, and the Lodge has got to assignan analyst and straighten her out."
"So? What do you think frightened her?"
"I haven't the faintest notion. It dates from a couple of weeks ago,when her older sister, Maillon, had an operation. Simple thing, nothingto worry anyone. Naida visited Maillon's hospital room the eveningafter the operation."
"They were alone?"
"So far as I know. I was to come by later and pick up Naida. Well, anurse called me from the hospital. Naida had been found lying in thecorridor—like this. She hasn't spoken since."
"Had she been in her sister's room?"
"We think so. Maillon couldn't say. She had been given a sedative inthe early afternoon and she was unconscious during the whole time. Butwe found Naida's hat on a table in the room."
"Who else had been in there?"
"Again, we can't be sure, but Maillon's husband, Pickerel Follansbee,might have been. He inquired minutely at the desk that afternoon as toMaillon's condition, but he denies going up."
Toring's eyes widened imperceptibly. Blanchard had taken no pains toconceal the hate in his voice.
"Now," continued the patron, "are you going to give me an analyst?"
The Freudian's face was troubled. He did not answer immediately.
"Toring," Blanchard said, "you are the preceptor of this Lodge. It iswithin your power to do this small thing for me. I want my child back!"
Toring regarded him gravely. "I cannot assign an analyst for at leastfour months."
Blanchard, accustomed to the autocratic rule of two million employeesin both hemispheres, sat back thoughtfully in the green leather chair.He had been prepared for a preliminary rebuff, an attempt to put hisdaughter on a waiting list, and Toring's st