The Guinea-Pig
by Cedric Walker

Everything made to measure, that was the idea of the biologist. Even re-creation 
of the human body was not beyond them now.....



SELLON looked at his visitor and wished heartily that he were anywhere else in 
the world. He thought: This is how the boys must feel when they're hauled up 
before me for putting jam in someone's football boots.
He smiled inwardly. It wasn't that he felt he was in the wrong. On the contrary, 
he knew that he was right. His self-analysis had told him the obvious fact that 
unless he were absolutely convinced that he was acting for the best, he would 
never have presumed to question the actions of such a man as this.
Even now, against his will, he couldn't help feeling over-awed. He braced 
himself and said: "That is my considered opinion." How trite that sounded! "From 
the very beginning I was opposed to this--experiment, and the results so far 
appear to have borne me out."
Mostyn eyed him calculatingly. Despite himself, Sellon found himself shifting 
uneasily under that cold impersonal scrutiny. Hang the man! He looked at him as 
if he were one of his specimens under the microscope!
Feelingless devils, these biologists! They had to be forever probing and cutting 
and prying into the innermost secrets of things. Never content to leave well 
enough alone! It was unnatural, this perpetual, bloody tampering.... Nothing was 
sacrosanct any more! Not even recreation of the human body itself was beyond 
them now. They would never rest until they had completely obsoleted nature, and 
the whole world crept from their ghastly operating-tables!
Everything made to measure. Behold, the latest triumph of science--the human 
body! Lord knew, it wasn't that he was unprogressive! Sellon knew nobody could 
accuse him of that!
"We realize you've done your best," said Mostyn wearily. Was it imagination, or 
was there a note of impatience in his voice? "Maybe it hasn't been much of a 
success up to now. But we must go on, Sellon. We must win! We've created these 
creatures.....for better or worse they're here to stay. There's no going back 
now. When they dropped the bomb at Hiroshima that was that. Wasn't any use 
burbling: 'They shouldn't have invented such a horrible thing. Let's outlaw the 
atom-bomb and then we can all go home and get on with the garden.' The bomb had 
come. Bend it to fit a man's hand, and you've got the finest tool imaginable. 
Well, after a bit of a schemozzle we bent it. Now we've got another problem on 
our hands, and we'll get round this, too. But we need help, and it's people like 
you who can give us that help."
"I've done what I could. It's been given a fair trial, and I feel that there is 
little object in going on. After all, I've got the other boys to think of. God 
knows what harm this business may have done to them! You know, I suppose, that 
they've found out?"
The biologist gestured impatiently. "They had to find out sooner or later. So 
maybe it's for the best."
"Nevertheless--"
"May I remind you that the agreed time-limit has not yet expired."
"Quite so." Sellon nodded reluctantly. He knew he was prejudiced. In all 
fairness he had no legitimate complaint. The man--hang him!--was asking nothing 
more than had been agreed. But the pill was nonetheless difficult to swallow.
"Incidentally," said Mostyn, "just how did they find out?"
Sellon shrugged. "You know how boys are. You can't keep anything from them." He 
smiled. "If you have a row with your wife the little blighters know it the next 
morning. A school is no place for a man with a past. It wasn't only the trouble 
he had telling left from right. Lots of humans are ambidextrous--though it isn't 
quite the same thing, of course.
"When he was batting he'd sometimes take up a left-handed stance and sometimes 
the normal one. The others couldn't help noticing. Then he had trouble with his 
knife and fork.....An uncanny sight, that, seeing him using them in opposite 
hands as easily as we do in the usual manner. We used to correct him every time 
we saw him do it, and he'd change over as smooth as you please, and hardly miss 
a mouthful!
"But it wasn't only that. It was the way he looked at times. I've only seen 
these creatures on one or two occasions, but they had the same expression in 
their eyes. You know what I mean--the way they have of sometimes appearing to 
look right through you. It always gave me an uncanny feeling." Sellon shuddered 
inwardly. Soulless devils, they were! What was it they called those 
things?....Zombies! That was it.
"I know." Mostyn passed a hand wearily over his face. "That's the sort of thing 
we're up against. Foolish prejudice. Superstition. Silly fairy-tales about 
monsters and such-like. Oh, it's all been exploited to the full by our 
opponents! They've done their worst, and I must admit they've made a pretty good 
job of turning peoples minds against the androids for good. But we'll lick 'em." 
A gleam came into his large black eyes, and his lips tightened. "We must!"
Takes it pretty seriously, Sellon thought. Wasn't as though it were a matter of 
life and death for him. The world had got on all right before the androids came, 
and would probably be able to struggle on without their assistance for a few 
more millennia. Matter of personal pride, he supposed. After all, Mostyn was the 
man chiefly responsible for the existence of these beings.
"How did the other boys take him?" asked Mostyn.
"Well, at first they were almost too scared to go near him. That's after they 
knew, of course. They'd heard such weird tales about them--naturally they were 
wary. But that didn't last very long. Then they began to treat him as something 
of a curiosity. Like all new boys, of course, he had been subjected to the usual 
ragging. Normally, that wouldn't have meant a great deal: he would have got it 
over and been accepted as one of them.
Unfortunately, he didn't react in the customary manner. In fact, he strongly 
objected to the whole business of initiation. Said the things he was expected to 
do were undignified, and that the purpose behind it was--as far as he could 
see--silly and unnecessary, and entirely unbefitting a human being!" Sellon 
spread out his hands at the last words. A human being! The idea of it! He looked 
expectantly at the other.
Mostyn did not smile.
SELLON snorted impatiently. The idea, apparently, didn't strike him as 
outrageous at all!
"You see," said Sellon, "that's the one thing the androids haven't got."
"What's that?"
"Why, tradition." Sellon frowned, and looked searchingly at his visitor. Was the 
man being deliberately obtuse? He made no sign of having heard, but continued 
gazing out of the window at the distant playing-fields. "Tradition," Sellon 
repeated, firmly.
Mostyn turned to face him slowly. "Oh," he said, "Tradition." There was no trace 
of amusement in his eyes, but Sellon felt suddenly a complete fool.
Of course, he knew the bare statement was ridiculous. He had meant it not as a 
statement of fact but as a comment on the vast gulf that separated the androids 
from humankind. He had intended--oh the devil!--he knew what he had meant. Not 
so this cold, unsmiling devil before him! His dislike of the man deepened.
Why didn't these people get out of their stinking laboratories--out into the sun 
amongst ordinary folk? Get married. Have children. Do the things that everyone 
else did. Enjoy the bounty of nature--instead of grubbing round in her back 
alleys. Great Scientist Mostyn with a girl in his arms.....whispering sweet 
nothings.....the picture just would not come. He would probably be able to 
explain it all in terms of glands and secretions and what-not.
"Yes, I see what you mean," said Mostyn surprisingly.
Sellon perked up. Well!.....
"But they will have, you know, one day. There will be a time when they will be 
absorbed into society on equal terms just as the Negro has been, and their very 
origin will be forgotten. Forgive me. I have no wish to preach."
Sellon made a conventional gesture, at the same time hoping he would not 
continue.
"Don't you understand, man?" Mostyn leaned forward. It was the first time he had 
shown any trace of passion. "We can't keep them out there on Venus forever! 
Daily they grow in numbers and knowledge. They can reproduce themselves in their 
laboratories. We cannot stop them now--even if we wished to do so. They have 
been accepted as humans--in theory. But they cannot live here on Earth. We 
smooth our consciences by granting them equal status, but they must not work 
with humans, they cannot enter our libraries, our transports, our 
restaurants--in fact they cannot--except under very rare circumstances--come to 
Earth at all.
"At last what we had dreamed of has come to pass, and the first child had been 
born to the androids in the natural way. Can you realize what that means, 
Sellon? The first android child! Now in truth they are human!" He paused, and 
searched Sellon's face. "That is why this experiment is so important. If it 
succeeds there will be no further obstacle: the human race will have to accept 
the androids!"
Damn him! Sellon thought. The man's right, after all. It was all entirely 
reasonable. But it didn't make him like the idea any better. Not that he had 
much choice. He'd got his orders, and he'd carry them out to the best of his 
ability.
"You'd like to see the--boy, of course?" he said.
Mostyn nodded. The headmaster spoke into the audio on his desk.
IN A FEW moments there was a knock on the door, and a small figure stood before 
them.
Mostyn rose with outstretched hand, smiling. He was human, after all. Even if 
his androids weren't.
The boy's face had been glum at first, but it brightened miraculously as his 
gaze fell on the scientist.
Sellon thought: If you didn't know you could certainly mistake him for a human 
boy. Nothing at all on the surface--apart from that oddly penetrating stare at 
times. Maybe he exaggerated that. Maybe the boy saw things that ordinary boys 
didn't. Had to admit he was above the average in classwork. But that wasn't 
everything.
The two seemed to have forgotten his presence. He coughed.
"If you would prefer it I--"
"Forgive me," said Mostyn, "It's been so long. Naturally, my interest.....Please 
stay. I should not dream of turning you out of your own room."
Sellon inclined his head. He listened without a great deal of interest as Mostyn 
questioned the boy about his work, asked about his friendships, whether he liked 
being at the school, and so on--in fact, behaved like any father visiting his 
son. Sellon found the thought amusing.
About the ragging episodes the boy was reticent. Small wonder, Sellon thought, 
in front of his headmaster! "You see, Andy," said Mostyn, "It may be silly to 
you. It is silly. But then, it's the sort of silliness that's affected human 
beings in all ages--everywhere, and you've just got to get used to it and learn 
to put up with it. In fact--" he smiled--"you've just got to put up with us."
Sellon just barely managed to repress a snort of disgust. What stuff to put into 
the minds of such creatures!
The scientist was continuing, apparently unaware of the storm he was creating 
behind him. "By the way, Andy, in your fights......how did you get on?"
For the first time the boy grinned. "I won," he said simply. The headmaster cut 
in, speaking with heavy sarcasm. "If you like, I can show you some of the 
results of our young friend's experiments in remolding the features of his 
fellows."
Mostyn shook his head, but could not restrain a smile. There was a look almost 
of pride on his face. Certainly, when he had made the androids he had made them 
strong and free from disease. Physically, they were certainly far superior to 
the average human being. But, Sellon thought, with repugnance, their perfection 
was entirely laboratory-made. Mass-production. A thousand perfect human beings, 
quickly, please! There you are, sir, call again!
"You won fairly?" said Mostyn.
"Yes, sir. I'm stronger than they are. They all piled into me, but they couldn't 
lick me!"
Sellon thought: Now he's bragging. They all piled into him! Sellon glanced at 
Mostyn, hoping for signs of disapproval. But the scientist maintained his calm, 
detached air, like a student listening to a lecture and occasionally noting some 
outstanding point.
"Whatever happens, Andy," said Mostyn, "you must never lose your temper. Scrap, 
by all means, but remember that they don't see things as clearly as you do. What 
is clear to you may not always be so to the other boys. In many ways they are 
hampered; their thoughts are often over-clouded by emotions. Their heritage 
weighs heavily upon them in so much that they do. It is difficult, I know, but 
try and see things through their eyes, too."
Lay it on! Sellon said to himself. Talk to him as if he were one of your learned 
biologist friends instead of a child! Tell him that humans are creatures who go 
chasing around emoting love and hate all over the place! Pity you couldn't have 
seen him when he was knocking young Martin about! He'd looked pretty emotional 
himself just then!
"I'll try, sir," said the boy. "But they keep saying things--"
"What sort of things?"
"They joke about my mother and father. They say why don't they come and see me, 
like theirs do." He looked up wide-eyed at Mostyn.....A strange wash of feeling 
swept momentarily over Sellon. After all, he was only a child....."Why don't 
they come and see me?" he urged.
For the first time Mostyn looked slightly uneasy.
Sellon stirred. Hallo? What was this?
"Listen, son," said the biologist, "maybe one day they'll come. At the moment, 
I'm afraid......"
Of course, there were rules--everyone knew that. But surely they could stretch a 
point. . . Sellon checked himself--Hey! Remember he wasn't in sympathy with the 
thing from the beginning!
The boy asked about his mother.
"She's fine, son," Mostyn said, "fine. Last time I saw her."
The boy smiled happily. Then his face clouded. And my father--why am I never 
allowed to see him? They keep asking about him."
Mostyn drew a deep breath before he spoke. He seemed to have trouble finding the 
right words. "Don't bother your head about that for the moment. There's a lot of 
things you'll find out as you grow older. When the time comes....." He patted 
the boy's head. "Now don't forget what I've told you. You've got to make a 
success of this, you know. We'll do it between us, won't we, eh?"
The boy's answering smile was like a burst of sunlight in the room. "All right," 
he said. But he didn't sound to Sellon as if he were really convinced.
SELLON sat down heavily in the chair. His face was ashen. My God! he thought. My 
God! He collected himself and took a deep breath. After a moment he pressed the 
switch and asked for long-distance.
The dark eyes of Mostyn looked at him from the screen. As he took in the 
troubled face of the headmaster his eyebrows lifted.
"What is it, man?"
Sellon spoke haltingly: "I--I cannot tell you over this--Mostyn, you must come 
at once! At once! It is.....most urgent!"
Mostyn's face loomed larger as he bent forward. "But what--?"
"At once, Mostyn!" Sellon blanked the screen. He sat staring into space. For the 
moment there was nothing he could do. Maybe there was nothing anyone could do. 
The body had been removed. The boys had returned--against their will--to the 
classrooms. To all appearances the school had returned to normal. He had not yet 
informed the boy's parents. No--better to wait until Mostyn arrived. It was his 
responsibility. That and.....Don't think about that for the moment! Then 
what?..........we regret to inform you that your son is dead. He was 
killed.......A sudden wave of fury swept over Sellon. He'd told them! Why hadn't 
they listened to him? What else could be expected? Created...soulless......
Suddenly Mostyn was before him. His face was gray, and he looked about a 
thousand years old. "Where is he now?" he bit out, and each word seemed to cost 
him an agony of effort.
Sellon said not a word. He walked across the room and took a mackinaw from the 
cupboard. He buttoned it with painful deliberation. Mostyn watched him silently.
Outside a steady drizzle was falling. A few gray clouds trailed disconsolately 
after each other across the darkling sky.
"It's not far," said Sellon. "On the hill yonder."
He managed the flitter with expert hands. The school dropped away, became a toy 
and vanished. They sped over the dismal, sodden land towards the distant hills.
Sellon thought: Why the devil doesn't the man say something? Obviously he knew. 
The janitor must have told him something. "There was a fight," he said, hating 
the fact that he had to tell him. But he knew he had. "They had been calling him 
names--one boy in particular."
Mostyn seemed to come to life. He turned to face Sellon. It was as if for the 
first time he realized the presence of the other. "What sort of names?"
Sellon swallowed. He didn't like this. "The allusion wasn't even correct," he 
said, wondering why he made the words sound so apologetic.
"What name?"
"Frankenstein."
Mostyn turned away, his lips compressed. Sellon saw his hands clenching and 
unclenching. He said: "There was a fight. He lost his temper. When it was over 
the boy who had called him the name was dead. None of the masters learned of the 
fight until it was too late. The boys who were present said he had a mad look in 
his eyes, and they gave him a wide berth. From the beginning they were always a 
bit afraid of him--even when they ragged him. They say he looked wildly around 
him and at the body of the boy for a time as if he were lost. When he made for 
the flitter-park they followed him, keeping at a respectable distance. But he 
seemed to have forgotten that they were there. Someone went for one of the 
masters. But by the time he had arrived the.........boy had scrambled into one 
of the flitters and was careering off madly over the treetops.
"But they're difficult things to handle--especially for a boy of his size. We 
saw the flitter continue its crazy flight for a time, dipping and weaving like a 
wounded bird, barely managing to keep above ground. The nose seemed to have a 
tendency to drop. Finally he slipped down below the hill--just there--and he 
didn't rise again.
"Here we are." Sellon touched the flitter down on the hillside as lightly as a 
feather.
Mostyn looked around him. About a hundred yards away down the hill was the 
wreckage of a flitter. Nearby a group of men stood motionless in the rain. Their 
faces were without expression. One of them had a crude bandage round one arm. 
Their heads drooped helplessly. They seemed to be waiting for something to 
happen. They hardly stirred as the two approached.
An icy dread washed over the headmaster. He singled out one of the men.
"He's gone mad," said the man. "Completely. He's got a gun from somewhere. One 
of the chaps was wounded. We daren't go near him."
"Where is he?" asked Mostyn.
THE MAN glanced at him for a moment, then gestured up the hillside towards a 
pile of rocks. "Up there somewhere. Can't tell you where exactly. He's been 
moving around behind them. He warned us, but we thought he was only saying 
that--like a boy would. Then he shot Wilson, so we've kept back. He keeps 
shouting something about 'hope you're satisfied now.'"
Mostyn started walking towards the pile of rocks. Sellon clutched at his arm, 
but he shook him off. "Come back, you fool! He's mad! He'll kill you!" He 
hesitated then made to follow him.
A shot broke the silence of the hillside.
Sellon stopped dead in his tracks. Mostyn walked on as if he hadn't heard.
A shrill voice floated down the hill to them. "Go back! Go back or I'll shoot!"
Silence.
Mostyn walked on.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it? Just like in the story! Monster! Kill him! 
Hound him down! Death to the android-monsters! Death! Death!"
Sellon shuddered. The boy was mad! He watched Mostyn, waiting for the shot and 
the fall.
Nothing happened.
A score of yards away Mostyn halted.
"Listen, son," he said, "it's me! Mostyn! Come out and let me talk to you!"
"Keep away!"
Mostyn spread his arms wide. "Don't you see who it is? It's me! I want to help 
you, son. I understand what happened. Come out and we'll talk it over--just you 
and me!"
No reply.
Sellon held his breath as Mostyn covered the remaining few yards. There was a 
sharp pain in his breast.
When the shot came it was almost like a physical impact to Sellon.
Mostyn stopped short. Sellon waited. But Mostyn did not fall. He seemed to have 
gone suddenly berserk. He scrambled wildly over the rocks and disappeared.
Sellon paused. Only for a second, then he started to run too. The group of men 
came after him.
When he found Mostyn, the scientist was holding the boy in his arms and 
muttering "My God" over and over again. The boy was quite dead.
Sellon looked at the face of the man. Somehow it struck a chord in his memory. 
What was it? Suddenly he knew. He had seen the same expression on the face of 
one of his masters after the man had received news of his son's death in World 
War III.
He knew then, and he turned away, his face ashen, motioning the rest to follow 
him.
They went quietly back down the slope. Behind him he heard Mostyn muttering 
softly, "My God!" again and again.