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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of It's All Yours, by Sam Merwin
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: It's All Yours
+
+Author: Sam Merwin
+
+Release Date: June 21, 2009 [EBook #29195]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IT'S ALL YOURS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    _It was a strange and bitter Earth over which the Chancellor
+    ruled--a strange and deformed world. There were times when the
+    Chancellor suspected that he really was a humanistic old fool, but
+    this seemed to be his destiny and it was difficult to be anything
+    else. Human, like all other organic life on Earth, was dying. Where
+    it spawned, it spawned monsters. What was to be the answer?_
+
+
+  it's
+   all
+ yours
+
+ _by ... Sam Merwin, Jr._
+
+
+ It was a lonely thing to rule over a dying world--a
+ world that had become sick, so terribly sick....
+
+
+The Chancellor's private washroom, discreetly off the innermost of his
+official suite of offices, was a dream of gleaming black porcelain and
+solid gold. Each spout, each faucet, was a gracefully stylized mermaid,
+the combination stall shower-steam room a marvel of hydraulic comfort
+and decor with variable lighting plotted to give the user every sort of
+beneficial ray, from ultraviolet to black heat.
+
+But Bliss was used to it. At the moment, as he washed his hands, he was
+far more concerned with the reflection of his face in the mirror above
+the dolphin-shaped bowl. With a sort of wry resignation, he accepted the
+red rims of fatigue around his eyes, the batch of white at his left
+temple that was spreading toward the top of his dark, well-groomed head.
+He noted that the lines rising from the corners of his mouth to the
+curves of his nostrils seemed to have deepened noticeably during the
+past few days.
+
+As he dried his hands in the air-stream, he told himself that he was
+letting his imagination run away with him--imagination had always been
+his weakness, and a grave failing for a head of state. And while he drew
+on his special, featherweight gloves, he reminded himself that, if he
+was aging prematurely, it was nobody's fault but his own. No other man
+or woman approaching qualification for the job would have taken it--only
+a sentimental, humanistic fool like himself.
+
+He took a quick sip from the benzedral fountain, waited for the
+restorative to do its work. Then, feeling moderately refreshed, he
+returned to his office, sank into the plastifoam cushions of the chair
+behind his tabletop mountain of a desk and pressed the button that
+informed Myra, his confidential secretary, he was ready.
+
+There were five in the delegation--by their collars or robes, a priest,
+a rabbi, a lama, a dark-skinned Watusi witchman and a white robed abbess
+draped in chaste, flowing white. Automatically, he surveyed them,
+checking. The priest's right shoe was twice as broad as his left, the
+rabbi's head, beneath the black cap that covered it, was long and thin
+as a zucchini squash. The witchman, defiantly bare and black as ebony
+from the waist up, had a tiny duplicate of his own handsome head
+sprouting from the base of his sternum. The visible deformities of the
+lama and abbess were concealed beneath their flowing robes. But they
+were there--they had to be there.
+
+Bliss rose as they entered and said, waving a gloved hand at the chairs
+on their side of the desk, "Greetings, sirs and madam--please be
+seated." And, when they were comfortable, "Now, to what do I owe the
+honor of this visit?"
+
+He knew, of course--sometimes he thought he knew more than any man
+should be allowed or able to know--but courtesy and custom demanded the
+question. It was the witchman who answered. Apparently he was spokesman
+for the group.
+
+He said, speaking beautiful Cantabrigian English, "Honorable sir, we
+have come as representatives of the religions of the world, not to
+protest but in a spirit of enquiry. Our flocks grow increasingly
+restive, when they are not leaving us altogether, our influence grows
+less. We wish to know what steps, if any, are being taken toward
+modification or abrogation of the sterility program. Without hope of
+posterity, mankind is lost."
+
+While the others murmured their agreement, Bliss focused his gaze on the
+sealed lids of the tiny face sprouting from the Watusi's breastbone. He
+wondered if there were eyes behind them, if there were a tongue behind
+those tiny clamped lips, and what words such a tongue would utter if it
+could speak.
+
+"We are waiting, honorable sir," the spokesman said.
+
+Shaking himself free of the absorption, Bliss glanced at the
+teleprompter on his desk. Efficient as ever, Myra had their names there
+before him. He said, "Gentle R'hau-chi, I believe a simple exposition
+of our situation, and of what programs we are seeking to meet and
+mitigate it with, will give you the answers. Not, perhaps, the answers
+you seek, but the answers we must accept ..."
+
+Although the reports from World Laboratories changed from day to day, he
+knew the speech by heart. For the problem remained. Humanity, like
+virtually all other organic life on Earth, was dying. Where it spawned,
+it spawned monsters. On three-dimensional vidar rolls, he showed them
+live shots of what the laboratories were doing, what they were trying to
+do--in the insemination groups, the incubators, the ray-bombardment
+chambers, the parthenogenesis bureau.
+
+Studying them, he could see by their expressions, hear by the prayers
+they muttered, how shocking these revelations were. It was one thing to
+know what was going on--another for them to see for themselves. It was
+neither pretty--nor hopeful.
+
+When it was over, the rabbi spoke. He said, in deep, slightly guttural,
+vastly impressive intonations, "What about Mars, honorable sir? Have you
+reached communication with our brothers and sisters on the red planet?"
+
+Bliss shook his head. He glanced at the alma-calendar at his elbow and
+told them, "Mars continues to maintain silence--as it has for two
+hundred and thirty-one years. Ever since the final war."
+
+They knew it, but they had to hear it from him to accept it even
+briefly. There was silence, long wretched silence. Then the abbess
+spoke. She said, "Couldn't we send out a ship to study conditions first
+hand, honorable sir?"
+
+Bliss sighed. He said, "The last four spaceships on Earth were sent to
+Mars at two-year intervals during the last perihelions. Not one of them
+came back. That was more than a half century ago. Since I accepted this
+office, I have had some of our ablest remaining scientific brains
+working on the problem of building a new ship. They have not been
+successful." He laid his gloved hands, palms upward, on the desk, added,
+"It appears that we have lost the knack for such projects."
+
+When they were gone, he walked to the broad window and looked out over
+the World Capital buildings at the verdant Sahara that stretched
+hundreds of miles to the foot of the faintly purple Atlas Mountains on
+the northwestern horizon. A blanket of brilliant green, covering what
+had once been the greatest of all Earthly deserts--but a poisonous
+blanket of strange plant mutations, some of them poisonous beyond
+belief.
+
+Truly, Bliss thought, he belonged to a remarkable species. Man had
+conquered his environment, he had even, within the limits of the Solar
+System, conquered space. He had planted, and successfully, his own kind
+on a neighboring planet and made it grow. But man had never, at least
+on his home planet, conquered himself.
+
+Overpopulation had long since ceased to be a problem--the atomic wars
+had seen to that. But, thanks to the miracles of science--atomics and
+automation--man had quickly rebuilt the world into a Garden of Eden with
+up-to-date plumbing. He might have won two planets, but he had turned
+his Eden into an arbor of deadly nightshade.
+
+Oddly, it had not been the dreadful detonations of thermo-nuclear bombs
+that had poisoned his paradise--though, of course, they had helped. It
+had been the constant spillage of atomic waste into the upper atmosphere
+that had spelled ruin. Now, where four billion people had once lived in
+war and want, forty million lived in poisoned plenty. He was chancellor
+of a planet whose ruling species could not longer breed without
+disaster.
+
+His was the last generation. It should have been a peaceful generation.
+But it was not.
+
+For, as population decreased, so did the habitable areas of Earth. The
+formerly overpopulated temperate regions were now ghastly jungles of
+self-choking mutant plant growth. Only what had been the waste
+areas--Antarctica, the Gobi, Australia, Patagonia and the Sahara-Arabia
+districts--could still support even the strange sorts of human life that
+remained.
+
+And the forty millions still alive were restless, frightened, paranoiac.
+Each believed his own group was being systematically exterminated in
+favor of some other. None had yet faced the fact that humanity, for all
+practical purposes, was already dead on Earth.
+
+He sensed another presence in the room. It was Myra, his secretary,
+bearing a sheaf of messages in one hand, a sheaf of correspondence for
+him to sign in the other. She said, "You look beat, chancellor. Sit
+down."
+
+Bliss sat down. Myra, as his faithful and efficient amanuensis for more
+than fifteen years, had her rights. One of them was taking care of him
+during working hours. She was still rather pretty, he noted with
+surprise. An Afro-Asian with skin like dark honey and smooth, pleasant,
+rather flat features. It was, he thought, a pity she had that third eye
+in her forehead.
+
+She stood beside him while he ran through the letters and signed them.
+"Meeting of the regional vice-chancellors tomorrow, eh?" he said as he
+handed them back to her.
+
+"Right, chancellor," she said crisply. "Ten o'clock. You may have to
+take another whirlwind trip to tell them the situation is well in hand."
+
+He grunted and glanced at the messages, scanned them quickly, tossed
+them into the disposal vent beside his desk. Myra looked moderately
+disapproving. "What about that possible ship from Mars?" she asked.
+"Shouldn't you look into it?"
+
+He grunted again, looked up at her, said, "If I'd looked into every
+'ship from Mars' astronomy has come up with in the nine years I've held
+this office, I'd never have had time for anything else. You can lay odds
+it's a wild asteroid or something like that."
+
+"They sound pretty sure this time," Myra said doubtfully.
+
+"Don't they always?" he countered. "Come on, Myra, wrap it up. Time to
+go home."
+
+"Roger, boss," she said, blinking all three eyes at him.
+
+Bliss turned on the autopi and napped while the gyrojet carried him to
+his villa outside Dakar. Safely down on the roof of the comfortable,
+automatic white house, he took the lift down to his second-floor suite,
+where he showered and changed into evening sandals and clout. He
+redonned his gloves, then rode down another two flights to the terrace,
+where Elise was waiting for him in a gossamer-thin iridescent eggshell
+sari. They kissed and she patted the place on the love-seat beside her.
+She had a book--an old-fashioned book of colored reproductions of
+long-since-destroyed old masters on her lap. The artist was a man named
+Peter Paul Rubens.
+
+Eyeing the opulent nudes, she giggled and said, "Don't they look
+awfully--plain? I mean, women with only two breasts!"
+
+"Well--yes," he said. "If you want to take that angle."
+
+"Idiot!" she said. "Honestly, darling, you're the strangest sort of man
+to be a World Chancellor."
+
+"These are strange times," he told her, smiling without mirth, though
+with genuine affection.
+
+"Suppose--just suppose," she said, turning the pages slowly, "biology
+should be successful in stabilizing the species again. Would they _have_
+to set it back that far? I mean, either we or _they_ would feel awfully
+out of style."
+
+"What would you suggest?" he asked her solemnly.
+
+"Don't be nasty," she said loftily. Then she giggled again and ruffled
+his hair. "I wish you'd have it dyed one color," she told him. "Either
+black or gray--or why not a bright puce?"
+
+"What's for dinner?" he asked, adding, "If I can still eat after that."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The regional vice-chancellors were awaiting him in the
+next-to-the-innermost office when Bliss arrived at World
+Capital the next morning. Australia, Antarctica, Patagonia, Gobi,
+Sahara-Arabia--they followed him inside like so many penguins in the
+black-and-white official robes. All were deathly serious as they stated
+their problems.
+
+Gobi wanted annual rainfall cut from 60 to 45 centimeters.
+
+Sahara-Arabia was not receiving satisfactory food synthetics--there had
+been Moslem riots because of pork flavor in the meat.
+
+Patagonia was suffering through a species of sport-worm that was
+threatening to turn it into a desert if biology didn't come up with a
+remedy fast.
+
+Antarctica wanted temperature lowered from a nighttime norm of 62°
+Fahrenheit to 57.6°. It seemed that the ice in the skating rinks, which
+were the chief source of exercise and entertainment for the populace,
+got mushy after ten p.m.
+
+Australia wanted the heavy uranium deposits under the Great Central
+Desert neutralized against its causing further mutations.
+
+For a moment, Bliss was tempted to remind his viceroys that it was not
+going to make one bit of difference whether they made their spoiled
+citizens happy or not. The last man on Earth would be dead within fifty
+years or so, anyway. But that would have been an unpardonable breach of
+taste. Everyone _knew_, of course, but it was never mentioned. To state
+the truth was to deny hope. And without hope, there was no life.
+
+Bliss promised to see that these matters were tended to at once, taking
+each in turn. This done, they discussed his making another whirlwind
+trip through the remaining major dominions of the planet to bolster
+morale. He was relieved when at last, the amenities concluded, the
+penguins filed solemnly out. He didn't know which he found more
+unattractive--Gobi's atrophied third leg, strapped tightly to the inside
+of his left thigh and calf, or Australia's jackass ears. Then, sternly,
+he reminded himself that it was not their fault they weren't as lucky as
+himself.
+
+Myra came in, her three eyes aglow, and said, "Boss, you were wrong for
+once in your life."
+
+"What is it this time?" he asked.
+
+"About that Martian ship," she repeated. "It just landed on the old
+spaceport. You can see it from the window."
+
+"For God's sake!" Bliss was on his feet, moving swiftly to the window.
+It was there--needle-nosed, slim as one of the mermaids in his private
+washroom, graceful as a vidar dancer. The entire length of it gleamed
+like silver in the sunlight.
+
+Bliss felt the premature old age that had been crowding upon him of late
+fall away like the wool of a sheep at shearing. Here, at last, was
+hope--real hope. After almost two and a half centuries of
+non-communication, the men of the infant planet had returned to the aid
+of the aging planet. For, once they saw the condition of Earth, and
+understood it, there could be no question of anything else.
+
+Mars, during the years of space-flight from Earth, had been the outlet
+for the mother planet's ablest, toughest, brightest, most aggressive
+young men and women. They had gone out to lick a hostile environment,
+they had been hand-picked for the job--and they had done it. The ship,
+out there in the poisonous Sahara, was living proof of their success.
+
+He turned from the window and went back to his desk. He said, "Myra,
+have their leader brought here to see me as soon as possible."
+
+"_Roger!_" she said, leaving him swiftly, gracefully. Again he thought
+it was too bad about her third eye. It had made it awfully hard for her
+to find a husband. He supposed he should be grateful, since it had made
+him an incomparably efficient secretary.
+
+The young man was space-burned and silver-blond of hair. He was broad
+and fair of feature and his body was tall and lean and perfect in his
+black, skin-tight uniform with the silver rocket-burst on the left
+breast. He stood at attention, lifted a gauntleted hand in salute and
+said, "Your excellency, Chancellor Bliss--Space-Captain Hon Yaelstrom of
+Syrtis City, Mars, bearing official rank of Inter-planetary legate
+plenipotentiary. My papers, sir."
+
+He stood stiff as a ramrod and laid a set of imposing-looking documents
+on the vast desk before Bliss. His accent was stiff as his spinal
+column. Bliss glanced casually at the papers, nodded and handed them
+back. So this, he thought, was how a "normal," a pre-atomic, a
+non-mutated human, looked. Impressive.
+
+Catching himself wandering, he pushed a box of costly smokes toward the
+ambassador.
+
+"_Nein_--no thank you, sir," was the reply.
+
+"Suppose you sit down and tell me what we can do for you," said Bliss,
+motioning toward a chair.
+
+"Thank you, sir, I prefer to stand," was the reply. And, when Bliss
+motioned that it was all right, "My mission is not a happy one,
+excellency. Due to overpopulation on Mars, I have been sent to inform
+the government of Earth that room must be made to take care of our
+overpopulation."
+
+"I see," Bliss leaned back in his chair, trying to read the situation
+correctly. "That may take a little doing. You see, we aren't exactly
+awash with real estate here."
+
+The reply was rigid and harsh. Captain Yaelstrom said, "I regret to
+remind your excellency that I have circled this planet before landing.
+It is incredibly rich in plant growth, incredibly underpopulated. And I
+assure your excellency that my superiors have not sent me here with any
+idle request. Mars must have room to emigrate."
+
+"And if we find ourselves unable to give it to you?"
+
+"I fear we shall have to take it, your excellency."
+
+Bliss studied the visitor from space, then said, "This is rather sudden,
+you know. I fear it will take time. You must have prospered amazingly on
+Mars to have overpopulated the planet so soon."
+
+"Conditions have not been wholly favorable," was the cryptic reply. "But
+as to time, we are scarcely in condition to move our surplus population
+overnight. It will take years--perhaps decades--twenty-five years at a
+minimum."
+
+Twenty-five years! That was too soon. If Captain Yaelstrom were a
+typical Martian, there was going to be trouble. Bliss recalled again
+that Earth had sent only its most aggressive young folk out to the red
+planet. He made up his mind then and there that he was somehow going to
+salvage for Earth its final half-century of peace.
+
+He said, "How many people do you plan to send here, Captain?"
+
+The ambassador hesitated. Then he said, "According to the computations
+of our experts, taking the population curve during the next twenty-five
+years into account, there will be seventeen million, three hundred
+thirty-two thousand five hundred--approximately."
+
+The figure was too large to be surplus, Bliss decided. It sounded to him
+as if humanity were about to abandon Mars completely. He wondered what
+the devil had gone wrong, decided this was hardly the time to ask. He
+offered Captain Yaelstrom a drink, which was refused, then asked him if
+he wouldn't like to wash up.
+
+To his mild surprise, the ambassador nodded eagerly. "I shall be
+grateful," he said. "You have no idea how cramped spaceship quarters can
+be."
+
+"I can imagine," said Bliss dryly. He led the way into the
+black-and-gold washroom, was amused at the slight but definite popping
+of ambassadorial eyes. Earth might be dying, he thought, but at least
+her destroyers would leave a heritage. He motioned toward the basin with
+its mermaid taps and Captain Yaelstrom hesitated, then began pulling off
+his black gauntlets.
+
+Bliss thought of something. "You mentioned twenty-five years," he said.
+"Is that Martian time or Earth time?"
+
+"Martian time," said the ambassador, letting the water run over his
+hands.
+
+Twenty-five years, Martian time--a Martian year was 1.88 Earth years.
+Bliss exhaled and said, "I think perhaps we shall be able to come to an
+agreement. It will take a little time, of course--channels, and all
+that."
+
+The Martian held his hands in front of the air-drier. They were strong,
+brown hands with long, muscular fingers. Bliss looked at them and knew
+the whole story. For, like himself, Captain Yaelstrom had seven fingers
+on each. Man had done no better on Mars than he had at home. The reason
+for such a desperate move as emigration was all too clear.
+
+Captain Yaelstrom stood back from the bowl, then noticed the stall
+shower. He said, "What is this? We have nothing like it on Mars."
+
+Bliss explained its several therapeutic uses, then said, "Perhaps you'd
+like to try it yourself while I order us luncheon."
+
+"May I, excellency?" the Martian legate asked eagerly.
+
+"Go right ahead," said Bliss magnanimously. "It's all yours."
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+    This etext was produced from _Fantastic Universe_ November 1956.
+    Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+    copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
+    typographical errors have been corrected without note.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of It's All Yours, by Sam Merwin
+
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+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of It's All Yours, by Sam Merwin, Jr.
+    </title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of It's All Yours, by Sam Merwin
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: It's All Yours
+
+Author: Sam Merwin
+
+Release Date: June 21, 2009 [EBook #29195]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IT'S ALL YOURS ***
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+Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
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+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="bk1"><p><i><small>It was a strange and bitter Earth over which the Chancellor ruled&mdash;a strange
+and deformed world. There were times when the Chancellor suspected that he
+really was a humanistic old fool, but this seemed to be his destiny and it was
+difficult to be anything else. Human, like all other organic life on Earth, was
+dying. Where it spawned, it spawned monsters. What was to be the answer?</small></i></p></div>
+
+<div class="bk2"><h1><b>it's<br />
+all<br />
+yours</b></h1>
+
+<h2><small><i>by ... Sam Merwin, Jr.</i></small></h2>
+
+<p class="pr1"><big><b>It was a lonely thing to rule over a dying world&mdash;a
+world that had become sick, so terribly sick....</b></big></p></div>
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="smcap">The</span> Chancellor's private washroom,
+discreetly off the innermost
+of his official suite of offices, was a
+dream of gleaming black porcelain
+and solid gold. Each spout, each
+faucet, was a gracefully stylized
+mermaid, the combination stall
+shower-steam room a marvel of
+hydraulic comfort and decor with
+variable lighting plotted to give the
+user every sort of beneficial ray,
+from ultraviolet to black heat.</p>
+
+<p>But Bliss was used to it. At the
+moment, as he washed his hands,
+he was far more concerned with
+the reflection of his face in the
+mirror above the dolphin-shaped
+bowl. With a sort of wry resignation,
+he accepted the red rims of
+fatigue around his eyes, the batch
+of white at his left temple that was
+spreading toward the top of his
+dark, well-groomed head. He noted
+that the lines rising from the corners
+of his mouth to the curves of
+his nostrils seemed to have deepened
+noticeably during the past few
+days.</p>
+
+<p>As he dried his hands in the air-stream,
+he told himself that he was
+letting his imagination run away
+with him&mdash;imagination had always
+been his weakness, and a grave
+failing for a head of state. And
+while he drew on his special, featherweight
+gloves, he reminded himself
+that, if he was aging prematurely,
+it was nobody's fault but his
+own. No other man or woman approaching
+qualification for the job
+would have taken it&mdash;only a sentimental,
+humanistic fool like himself.</p>
+
+<p>He took a quick sip from the
+benzedral fountain, waited for the
+restorative to do its work. Then,
+feeling moderately refreshed, he
+returned to his office, sank into the
+plastifoam cushions of the chair
+behind his tabletop mountain of a
+desk and pressed the button that
+informed Myra, his confidential
+secretary, he was ready.</p>
+
+<p>There were five in the delegation&mdash;by
+their collars or robes, a
+priest, a rabbi, a lama, a dark-skinned
+Watusi witchman and a
+white robed abbess draped in
+chaste, flowing white. Automatically,
+he surveyed them, checking. The
+priest's right shoe was twice as
+broad as his left, the rabbi's head,
+beneath the black cap that covered
+it, was long and thin as a zucchini
+squash. The witchman, defiantly
+bare and black as ebony from the
+waist up, had a tiny duplicate of his
+own handsome head sprouting from
+the base of his sternum. The visible
+deformities of the lama and abbess
+were concealed beneath their flowing
+robes. But they were there&mdash;they
+had to be there.</p>
+
+<p>Bliss rose as they entered and
+said, waving a gloved hand at the
+chairs on their side of the desk,
+"Greetings, sirs and madam&mdash;please
+be seated." And, when they
+were comfortable, "Now, to what
+do I owe the honor of this visit?"</p>
+
+<p>He knew, of course&mdash;sometimes
+he thought he knew more than any
+man should be allowed or able to
+know&mdash;but courtesy and custom demanded
+the question. It was the
+witchman who answered. Apparently
+he was spokesman for the group.</p>
+
+<p>He said, speaking beautiful
+Cantabrigian English, "Honorable
+sir, we have come as representatives
+of the religions of the world, not
+to protest but in a spirit of enquiry.
+Our flocks grow increasingly restive,
+when they are not leaving us
+altogether, our influence grows less.
+We wish to know what steps, if
+any, are being taken toward modification
+or abrogation of the sterility
+program. Without hope of posterity,
+mankind is lost."</p>
+
+<p>While the others murmured their
+agreement, Bliss focused his gaze
+on the sealed lids of the tiny face
+sprouting from the Watusi's breastbone.
+He wondered if there were
+eyes behind them, if there were a
+tongue behind those tiny clamped
+lips, and what words such a tongue
+would utter if it could speak.</p>
+
+<p>"We are waiting, honorable sir,"
+the spokesman said.</p>
+
+<p>Shaking himself free of the absorption,
+Bliss glanced at the teleprompter
+on his desk. Efficient as
+ever, Myra had their names there
+before him. He said, "Gentle
+R'hau-chi, I believe a simple exposition
+of our situation, and of
+what programs we are seeking to
+meet and mitigate it with, will
+give you the answers. Not, perhaps,
+the answers you seek, but the answers
+we must accept ..."</p>
+
+<p>Although the reports from
+World Laboratories changed from
+day to day, he knew the speech by
+heart. For the problem remained.
+Humanity, like virtually all other
+organic life on Earth, was dying.
+Where it spawned, it spawned monsters.
+On three-dimensional vidar
+rolls, he showed them live shots of
+what the laboratories were doing,
+what they were trying to do&mdash;in
+the insemination groups, the incubators,
+the ray-bombardment chambers,
+the parthenogenesis bureau.</p>
+
+<p>Studying them, he could see by
+their expressions, hear by the prayers
+they muttered, how shocking
+these revelations were. It was one
+thing to know what was going on&mdash;another
+for them to see for themselves.
+It was neither pretty&mdash;nor
+hopeful.</p>
+
+<p>When it was over, the rabbi
+spoke. He said, in deep, slightly
+guttural, vastly impressive intonations,
+"What about Mars, honorable
+sir? Have you reached communication
+with our brothers and
+sisters on the red planet?"</p>
+
+<p>Bliss shook his head. He glanced
+at the alma-calendar at his elbow
+and told them, "Mars continues to
+maintain silence&mdash;as it has for two
+hundred and thirty-one years. Ever
+since the final war."</p>
+
+<p>They knew it, but they had to
+hear it from him to accept it even
+briefly. There was silence, long
+wretched silence. Then the abbess
+spoke. She said, "Couldn't we send
+out a ship to study conditions first
+hand, honorable sir?"</p>
+
+<p>Bliss sighed. He said, "The last
+four spaceships on Earth were sent
+to Mars at two-year intervals during
+the last perihelions. Not one of
+them came back. That was more
+than a half century ago. Since I
+accepted this office, I have had some
+of our ablest remaining scientific
+brains working on the problem of
+building a new ship. They have
+not been successful." He laid his
+gloved hands, palms upward, on
+the desk, added, "It appears that
+we have lost the knack for such
+projects."</p>
+
+<p>When they were gone, he walked
+to the broad window and looked
+out over the World Capital buildings
+at the verdant Sahara that
+stretched hundreds of miles to the
+foot of the faintly purple Atlas
+Mountains on the northwestern
+horizon. A blanket of brilliant
+green, covering what had once been
+the greatest of all Earthly deserts&mdash;but
+a poisonous blanket of strange
+plant mutations, some of them
+poisonous beyond belief.</p>
+
+<p>Truly, Bliss thought, he belonged
+to a remarkable species. Man
+had conquered his environment, he
+had even, within the limits of the
+Solar System, conquered space. He
+had planted, and successfully, his
+own kind on a neighboring planet
+and made it grow. But man had
+never, at least on his home planet,
+conquered himself.</p>
+
+<p>Overpopulation had long since
+ceased to be a problem&mdash;the atomic
+wars had seen to that. But, thanks
+to the miracles of science&mdash;atomics
+and automation&mdash;man had quickly
+rebuilt the world into a Garden of
+Eden with up-to-date plumbing.
+He might have won two planets,
+but he had turned his Eden into
+an arbor of deadly nightshade.</p>
+
+<p>Oddly, it had not been the dreadful
+detonations of thermo-nuclear
+bombs that had poisoned his paradise&mdash;though,
+of course, they had
+helped. It had been the constant
+spillage of atomic waste into the
+upper atmosphere that had spelled
+ruin. Now, where four billion people
+had once lived in war and
+want, forty million lived in poisoned
+plenty. He was chancellor of a
+planet whose ruling species could
+not longer breed without disaster.</p>
+
+<p>His was the last generation. It
+should have been a peaceful generation.
+But it was not.</p>
+
+<p>For, as population decreased, so
+did the habitable areas of Earth.
+The formerly overpopulated temperate
+regions were now ghastly
+jungles of self-choking mutant
+plant growth. Only what had been
+the waste areas&mdash;Antarctica, the
+Gobi, Australia, Patagonia and the
+Sahara-Arabia districts&mdash;could still
+support even the strange sorts of
+human life that remained.</p>
+
+<p>And the forty millions still alive
+were restless, frightened, paranoiac.
+Each believed his own group was
+being systematically exterminated
+in favor of some other. None had
+yet faced the fact that humanity,
+for all practical purposes, was already
+dead on Earth.</p>
+
+<p>He sensed another presence in
+the room. It was Myra, his secretary,
+bearing a sheaf of messages
+in one hand, a sheaf of correspondence
+for him to sign in the other.
+She said, "You look beat, chancellor.
+Sit down."</p>
+
+<p>Bliss sat down. Myra, as his
+faithful and efficient amanuensis
+for more than fifteen years, had her
+rights. One of them was taking
+care of him during working hours.
+She was still rather pretty, he noted
+with surprise. An Afro-Asian with
+skin like dark honey and smooth,
+pleasant, rather flat features. It was,
+he thought, a pity she had that third
+eye in her forehead.</p>
+
+<p>She stood beside him while he
+ran through the letters and signed
+them. "Meeting of the regional
+vice-chancellors tomorrow, eh?" he
+said as he handed them back to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Right, chancellor," she said
+crisply. "Ten o'clock. You may
+have to take another whirlwind
+trip to tell them the situation is
+well in hand."</p>
+
+<p>He grunted and glanced at the
+messages, scanned them quickly,
+tossed them into the disposal vent
+beside his desk. Myra looked moderately
+disapproving. "What about
+that possible ship from Mars?" she
+asked. "Shouldn't you look into
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>He grunted again, looked up at
+her, said, "If I'd looked into every
+'ship from Mars' astronomy has
+come up with in the nine years
+I've held this office, I'd never have
+had time for anything else. You
+can lay odds it's a wild asteroid or
+something like that."</p>
+
+<p>"They sound pretty sure this
+time," Myra said doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't they always?" he countered.
+"Come on, Myra, wrap it up.
+Time to go home."</p>
+
+<p>"Roger, boss," she said, blinking
+all three eyes at him.</p>
+
+<p>Bliss turned on the autopi and
+napped while the gyrojet carried
+him to his villa outside Dakar.
+Safely down on the roof of the
+comfortable, automatic white house,
+he took the lift down to his second-floor
+suite, where he showered and
+changed into evening sandals and
+clout. He redonned his gloves, then
+rode down another two flights to
+the terrace, where Elise was waiting
+for him in a gossamer-thin iridescent
+eggshell sari. They kissed
+and she patted the place on the
+love-seat beside her. She had a
+book&mdash;an old-fashioned book of
+colored reproductions of long-since-destroyed
+old masters on her lap.
+The artist was a man named Peter
+Paul Rubens.</p>
+
+<p>Eyeing the opulent nudes, she
+giggled and said, "Don't they look
+awfully&mdash;plain? I mean, women
+with only two breasts!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;yes," he said. "If you
+want to take that angle."</p>
+
+<p>"Idiot!" she said. "Honestly,
+darling, you're the strangest sort of
+man to be a World Chancellor."</p>
+
+<p>"These are strange times," he
+told her, smiling without mirth,
+though with genuine affection.</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose&mdash;just suppose," she
+said, turning the pages slowly,
+"biology should be successful in
+stabilizing the species again. Would
+they <i>have</i> to set it back that far?
+I mean, either we or <i>they</i> would
+feel awfully out of style."</p>
+
+<p>"What would you suggest?" he
+asked her solemnly.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be nasty," she said loftily.
+Then she giggled again and
+ruffled his hair. "I wish you'd have
+it dyed one color," she told him.
+"Either black or gray&mdash;or why not
+a bright puce?"</p>
+
+<p>"What's for dinner?" he asked,
+adding, "If I can still eat after that."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>The regional vice-chancellors
+were awaiting him in the next-to-the-innermost
+office when Bliss arrived
+at World Capital the next
+morning. Australia, Antarctica,
+Patagonia, Gobi, Sahara-Arabia&mdash;they
+followed him inside like so
+many penguins in the black-and-white
+official robes. All were deathly
+serious as they stated their problems.</p>
+
+<p>Gobi wanted annual rainfall cut
+from 60 to 45 centimeters.</p>
+
+<p>Sahara-Arabia was not receiving
+satisfactory food synthetics&mdash;there
+had been Moslem riots because of
+pork flavor in the meat.</p>
+
+<p>Patagonia was suffering through
+a species of sport-worm that was
+threatening to turn it into a desert
+if biology didn't come up with a
+remedy fast.</p>
+
+<p>Antarctica wanted temperature
+lowered from a nighttime norm of
+62&deg; Fahrenheit to 57.6&deg;. It seemed
+that the ice in the skating rinks,
+which were the chief source of
+exercise and entertainment for the
+populace, got mushy after ten p.m.</p>
+
+<p>Australia wanted the heavy uranium
+deposits under the Great
+Central Desert neutralized against
+its causing further mutations.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment, Bliss was tempted
+to remind his viceroys that it was
+not going to make one bit of difference
+whether they made their
+spoiled citizens happy or not. The
+last man on Earth would be dead
+within fifty years or so, anyway.
+But that would have been an unpardonable
+breach of taste. Everyone
+<i>knew</i>, of course, but it was
+never mentioned. To state the truth
+was to deny hope. And without
+hope, there was no life.</p>
+
+<p>Bliss promised to see that these
+matters were tended to at once, taking
+each in turn. This done, they
+discussed his making another whirlwind
+trip through the remaining
+major dominions of the planet to
+bolster morale. He was relieved
+when at last, the amenities concluded,
+the penguins filed solemnly
+out. He didn't know which he
+found more unattractive&mdash;Gobi's
+atrophied third leg, strapped tightly
+to the inside of his left thigh
+and calf, or Australia's jackass ears.
+Then, sternly, he reminded himself
+that it was not their fault they
+weren't as lucky as himself.</p>
+
+<p>Myra came in, her three eyes
+aglow, and said, "Boss, you were
+wrong for once in your life."</p>
+
+<p>"What is it this time?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"About that Martian ship," she
+repeated. "It just landed on the
+old spaceport. You can see it from
+the window."</p>
+
+<p>"For God's sake!" Bliss was on
+his feet, moving swiftly to the window.
+It was there&mdash;needle-nosed,
+slim as one of the mermaids in his
+private washroom, graceful as a
+vidar dancer. The entire length of
+it gleamed like silver in the sunlight.</p>
+
+<p>Bliss felt the premature old age
+that had been crowding upon him
+of late fall away like the wool of
+a sheep at shearing. Here, at last,
+was hope&mdash;real hope. After almost
+two and a half centuries of non-communication,
+the men of the infant
+planet had returned to the aid
+of the aging planet. For, once they
+saw the condition of Earth, and
+understood it, there could be no
+question of anything else.</p>
+
+<p>Mars, during the years of space-flight
+from Earth, had been the
+outlet for the mother planet's
+ablest, toughest, brightest, most
+aggressive young men and women.
+They had gone out to lick a hostile
+environment, they had been hand-picked
+for the job&mdash;and they had
+done it. The ship, out there in the
+poisonous Sahara, was living proof
+of their success.</p>
+
+<p>He turned from the window and
+went back to his desk. He said,
+"Myra, have their leader brought
+here to see me as soon as possible."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Roger!</i>" she said, leaving him
+swiftly, gracefully. Again he
+thought it was too bad about her
+third eye. It had made it awfully
+hard for her to find a husband. He
+supposed he should be grateful,
+since it had made him an incomparably
+efficient secretary.</p>
+
+<p>The young man was space-burned
+and silver-blond of hair. He was
+broad and fair of feature and his
+body was tall and lean and perfect
+in his black, skin-tight uniform
+with the silver rocket-burst on the
+left breast. He stood at attention,
+lifted a gauntleted hand in salute
+and said, "Your excellency, Chancellor
+Bliss&mdash;Space-Captain Hon
+Yaelstrom of Syrtis City, Mars,
+bearing official rank of Inter-planetary
+legate plenipotentiary. My
+papers, sir."</p>
+
+<p>He stood stiff as a ramrod and
+laid a set of imposing-looking documents
+on the vast desk before Bliss.
+His accent was stiff as his spinal
+column. Bliss glanced casually at
+the papers, nodded and handed
+them back. So this, he thought, was
+how a "normal," a pre-atomic, a
+non-mutated human, looked. Impressive.</p>
+
+<p>Catching himself wandering, he
+pushed a box of costly smokes toward
+the ambassador.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Nein</i>&mdash;no thank you, sir," was
+the reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose you sit down and tell
+me what we can do for you," said
+Bliss, motioning toward a chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, sir, I prefer to
+stand," was the reply. And, when
+Bliss motioned that it was all right,
+"My mission is not a happy one,
+excellency. Due to overpopulation
+on Mars, I have been sent to inform
+the government of Earth that
+room must be made to take care of
+our overpopulation."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," Bliss leaned back in his
+chair, trying to read the situation
+correctly. "That may take a little
+doing. You see, we aren't exactly
+awash with real estate here."</p>
+
+<p>The reply was rigid and harsh.
+Captain Yaelstrom said, "I regret
+to remind your excellency that I
+have circled this planet before landing.
+It is incredibly rich in plant
+growth, incredibly underpopulated.
+And I assure your excellency that
+my superiors have not sent me here
+with any idle request. Mars must
+have room to emigrate."</p>
+
+<p>"And if we find ourselves unable
+to give it to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I fear we shall have to take it,
+your excellency."</p>
+
+<p>Bliss studied the visitor from
+space, then said, "This is rather
+sudden, you know. I fear it will
+take time. You must have prospered
+amazingly on Mars to have
+overpopulated the planet so soon."</p>
+
+<p>"Conditions have not been
+wholly favorable," was the cryptic
+reply. "But as to time, we are
+scarcely in condition to move our
+surplus population overnight. It
+will take years&mdash;perhaps decades&mdash;twenty-five
+years at a minimum."</p>
+
+<p>Twenty-five years! That was too
+soon. If Captain Yaelstrom were
+a typical Martian, there was going
+to be trouble. Bliss recalled again
+that Earth had sent only its most
+aggressive young folk out to the
+red planet. He made up his mind
+then and there that he was somehow
+going to salvage for Earth its
+final half-century of peace.</p>
+
+<p>He said, "How many people do
+you plan to send here, Captain?"</p>
+
+<p>The ambassador hesitated. Then
+he said, "According to the computations
+of our experts, taking the
+population curve during the next
+twenty-five years into account, there
+will be seventeen million, three
+hundred thirty-two thousand five
+hundred&mdash;approximately."</p>
+
+<p>The figure was too large to be
+surplus, Bliss decided. It sounded
+to him as if humanity were about
+to abandon Mars completely. He
+wondered what the devil had gone
+wrong, decided this was hardly the
+time to ask. He offered Captain
+Yaelstrom a drink, which was refused,
+then asked him if he wouldn't
+like to wash up.</p>
+
+<p>To his mild surprise, the ambassador
+nodded eagerly. "I shall be
+grateful," he said. "You have no
+idea how cramped spaceship quarters
+can be."</p>
+
+<p>"I can imagine," said Bliss dryly.
+He led the way into the black-and-gold
+washroom, was amused
+at the slight but definite popping
+of ambassadorial eyes. Earth might
+be dying, he thought, but at least
+her destroyers would leave a heritage.
+He motioned toward the basin
+with its mermaid taps and Captain
+Yaelstrom hesitated, then began
+pulling off his black gauntlets.</p>
+
+<p>Bliss thought of something.
+"You mentioned twenty-five years,"
+he said. "Is that Martian time or
+Earth time?"</p>
+
+<p>"Martian time," said the ambassador,
+letting the water run over
+his hands.</p>
+
+<p>Twenty-five years, Martian time&mdash;a
+Martian year was 1.88 Earth
+years. Bliss exhaled and said, "I
+think perhaps we shall be able to
+come to an agreement. It will take
+a little time, of course&mdash;channels,
+and all that."</p>
+
+<p>The Martian held his hands in
+front of the air-drier. They were
+strong, brown hands with long,
+muscular fingers. Bliss looked at
+them and knew the whole story.
+For, like himself, Captain Yaelstrom
+had seven fingers on each.
+Man had done no better on Mars
+than he had at home. The reason
+for such a desperate move as emigration
+was all too clear.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Yaelstrom stood back
+from the bowl, then noticed the
+stall shower. He said, "What is
+this? We have nothing like it on
+Mars."</p>
+
+<p>Bliss explained its several therapeutic
+uses, then said, "Perhaps
+you'd like to try it yourself while
+I order us luncheon."</p>
+
+<p>"May I, excellency?" the Martian
+legate asked eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Go right ahead," said Bliss
+magnanimously. "It's all yours."</p>
+
+<div class="trn"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b>
+This etext was produced from <i>Fantastic Universe</i> November 1956.
+Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
+typographical errors have been corrected without note.</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of It's All Yours, by Sam Merwin
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of It's All Yours, by Sam Merwin
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: It's All Yours
+
+Author: Sam Merwin
+
+Release Date: June 21, 2009 [EBook #29195]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IT'S ALL YOURS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    _It was a strange and bitter Earth over which the Chancellor
+    ruled--a strange and deformed world. There were times when the
+    Chancellor suspected that he really was a humanistic old fool, but
+    this seemed to be his destiny and it was difficult to be anything
+    else. Human, like all other organic life on Earth, was dying. Where
+    it spawned, it spawned monsters. What was to be the answer?_
+
+
+  it's
+   all
+ yours
+
+ _by ... Sam Merwin, Jr._
+
+
+ It was a lonely thing to rule over a dying world--a
+ world that had become sick, so terribly sick....
+
+
+The Chancellor's private washroom, discreetly off the innermost of his
+official suite of offices, was a dream of gleaming black porcelain and
+solid gold. Each spout, each faucet, was a gracefully stylized mermaid,
+the combination stall shower-steam room a marvel of hydraulic comfort
+and decor with variable lighting plotted to give the user every sort of
+beneficial ray, from ultraviolet to black heat.
+
+But Bliss was used to it. At the moment, as he washed his hands, he was
+far more concerned with the reflection of his face in the mirror above
+the dolphin-shaped bowl. With a sort of wry resignation, he accepted the
+red rims of fatigue around his eyes, the batch of white at his left
+temple that was spreading toward the top of his dark, well-groomed head.
+He noted that the lines rising from the corners of his mouth to the
+curves of his nostrils seemed to have deepened noticeably during the
+past few days.
+
+As he dried his hands in the air-stream, he told himself that he was
+letting his imagination run away with him--imagination had always been
+his weakness, and a grave failing for a head of state. And while he drew
+on his special, featherweight gloves, he reminded himself that, if he
+was aging prematurely, it was nobody's fault but his own. No other man
+or woman approaching qualification for the job would have taken it--only
+a sentimental, humanistic fool like himself.
+
+He took a quick sip from the benzedral fountain, waited for the
+restorative to do its work. Then, feeling moderately refreshed, he
+returned to his office, sank into the plastifoam cushions of the chair
+behind his tabletop mountain of a desk and pressed the button that
+informed Myra, his confidential secretary, he was ready.
+
+There were five in the delegation--by their collars or robes, a priest,
+a rabbi, a lama, a dark-skinned Watusi witchman and a white robed abbess
+draped in chaste, flowing white. Automatically, he surveyed them,
+checking. The priest's right shoe was twice as broad as his left, the
+rabbi's head, beneath the black cap that covered it, was long and thin
+as a zucchini squash. The witchman, defiantly bare and black as ebony
+from the waist up, had a tiny duplicate of his own handsome head
+sprouting from the base of his sternum. The visible deformities of the
+lama and abbess were concealed beneath their flowing robes. But they
+were there--they had to be there.
+
+Bliss rose as they entered and said, waving a gloved hand at the chairs
+on their side of the desk, "Greetings, sirs and madam--please be
+seated." And, when they were comfortable, "Now, to what do I owe the
+honor of this visit?"
+
+He knew, of course--sometimes he thought he knew more than any man
+should be allowed or able to know--but courtesy and custom demanded the
+question. It was the witchman who answered. Apparently he was spokesman
+for the group.
+
+He said, speaking beautiful Cantabrigian English, "Honorable sir, we
+have come as representatives of the religions of the world, not to
+protest but in a spirit of enquiry. Our flocks grow increasingly
+restive, when they are not leaving us altogether, our influence grows
+less. We wish to know what steps, if any, are being taken toward
+modification or abrogation of the sterility program. Without hope of
+posterity, mankind is lost."
+
+While the others murmured their agreement, Bliss focused his gaze on the
+sealed lids of the tiny face sprouting from the Watusi's breastbone. He
+wondered if there were eyes behind them, if there were a tongue behind
+those tiny clamped lips, and what words such a tongue would utter if it
+could speak.
+
+"We are waiting, honorable sir," the spokesman said.
+
+Shaking himself free of the absorption, Bliss glanced at the
+teleprompter on his desk. Efficient as ever, Myra had their names there
+before him. He said, "Gentle R'hau-chi, I believe a simple exposition
+of our situation, and of what programs we are seeking to meet and
+mitigate it with, will give you the answers. Not, perhaps, the answers
+you seek, but the answers we must accept ..."
+
+Although the reports from World Laboratories changed from day to day, he
+knew the speech by heart. For the problem remained. Humanity, like
+virtually all other organic life on Earth, was dying. Where it spawned,
+it spawned monsters. On three-dimensional vidar rolls, he showed them
+live shots of what the laboratories were doing, what they were trying to
+do--in the insemination groups, the incubators, the ray-bombardment
+chambers, the parthenogenesis bureau.
+
+Studying them, he could see by their expressions, hear by the prayers
+they muttered, how shocking these revelations were. It was one thing to
+know what was going on--another for them to see for themselves. It was
+neither pretty--nor hopeful.
+
+When it was over, the rabbi spoke. He said, in deep, slightly guttural,
+vastly impressive intonations, "What about Mars, honorable sir? Have you
+reached communication with our brothers and sisters on the red planet?"
+
+Bliss shook his head. He glanced at the alma-calendar at his elbow and
+told them, "Mars continues to maintain silence--as it has for two
+hundred and thirty-one years. Ever since the final war."
+
+They knew it, but they had to hear it from him to accept it even
+briefly. There was silence, long wretched silence. Then the abbess
+spoke. She said, "Couldn't we send out a ship to study conditions first
+hand, honorable sir?"
+
+Bliss sighed. He said, "The last four spaceships on Earth were sent to
+Mars at two-year intervals during the last perihelions. Not one of them
+came back. That was more than a half century ago. Since I accepted this
+office, I have had some of our ablest remaining scientific brains
+working on the problem of building a new ship. They have not been
+successful." He laid his gloved hands, palms upward, on the desk, added,
+"It appears that we have lost the knack for such projects."
+
+When they were gone, he walked to the broad window and looked out over
+the World Capital buildings at the verdant Sahara that stretched
+hundreds of miles to the foot of the faintly purple Atlas Mountains on
+the northwestern horizon. A blanket of brilliant green, covering what
+had once been the greatest of all Earthly deserts--but a poisonous
+blanket of strange plant mutations, some of them poisonous beyond
+belief.
+
+Truly, Bliss thought, he belonged to a remarkable species. Man had
+conquered his environment, he had even, within the limits of the Solar
+System, conquered space. He had planted, and successfully, his own kind
+on a neighboring planet and made it grow. But man had never, at least
+on his home planet, conquered himself.
+
+Overpopulation had long since ceased to be a problem--the atomic wars
+had seen to that. But, thanks to the miracles of science--atomics and
+automation--man had quickly rebuilt the world into a Garden of Eden with
+up-to-date plumbing. He might have won two planets, but he had turned
+his Eden into an arbor of deadly nightshade.
+
+Oddly, it had not been the dreadful detonations of thermo-nuclear bombs
+that had poisoned his paradise--though, of course, they had helped. It
+had been the constant spillage of atomic waste into the upper atmosphere
+that had spelled ruin. Now, where four billion people had once lived in
+war and want, forty million lived in poisoned plenty. He was chancellor
+of a planet whose ruling species could not longer breed without
+disaster.
+
+His was the last generation. It should have been a peaceful generation.
+But it was not.
+
+For, as population decreased, so did the habitable areas of Earth. The
+formerly overpopulated temperate regions were now ghastly jungles of
+self-choking mutant plant growth. Only what had been the waste
+areas--Antarctica, the Gobi, Australia, Patagonia and the Sahara-Arabia
+districts--could still support even the strange sorts of human life that
+remained.
+
+And the forty millions still alive were restless, frightened, paranoiac.
+Each believed his own group was being systematically exterminated in
+favor of some other. None had yet faced the fact that humanity, for all
+practical purposes, was already dead on Earth.
+
+He sensed another presence in the room. It was Myra, his secretary,
+bearing a sheaf of messages in one hand, a sheaf of correspondence for
+him to sign in the other. She said, "You look beat, chancellor. Sit
+down."
+
+Bliss sat down. Myra, as his faithful and efficient amanuensis for more
+than fifteen years, had her rights. One of them was taking care of him
+during working hours. She was still rather pretty, he noted with
+surprise. An Afro-Asian with skin like dark honey and smooth, pleasant,
+rather flat features. It was, he thought, a pity she had that third eye
+in her forehead.
+
+She stood beside him while he ran through the letters and signed them.
+"Meeting of the regional vice-chancellors tomorrow, eh?" he said as he
+handed them back to her.
+
+"Right, chancellor," she said crisply. "Ten o'clock. You may have to
+take another whirlwind trip to tell them the situation is well in hand."
+
+He grunted and glanced at the messages, scanned them quickly, tossed
+them into the disposal vent beside his desk. Myra looked moderately
+disapproving. "What about that possible ship from Mars?" she asked.
+"Shouldn't you look into it?"
+
+He grunted again, looked up at her, said, "If I'd looked into every
+'ship from Mars' astronomy has come up with in the nine years I've held
+this office, I'd never have had time for anything else. You can lay odds
+it's a wild asteroid or something like that."
+
+"They sound pretty sure this time," Myra said doubtfully.
+
+"Don't they always?" he countered. "Come on, Myra, wrap it up. Time to
+go home."
+
+"Roger, boss," she said, blinking all three eyes at him.
+
+Bliss turned on the autopi and napped while the gyrojet carried him to
+his villa outside Dakar. Safely down on the roof of the comfortable,
+automatic white house, he took the lift down to his second-floor suite,
+where he showered and changed into evening sandals and clout. He
+redonned his gloves, then rode down another two flights to the terrace,
+where Elise was waiting for him in a gossamer-thin iridescent eggshell
+sari. They kissed and she patted the place on the love-seat beside her.
+She had a book--an old-fashioned book of colored reproductions of
+long-since-destroyed old masters on her lap. The artist was a man named
+Peter Paul Rubens.
+
+Eyeing the opulent nudes, she giggled and said, "Don't they look
+awfully--plain? I mean, women with only two breasts!"
+
+"Well--yes," he said. "If you want to take that angle."
+
+"Idiot!" she said. "Honestly, darling, you're the strangest sort of man
+to be a World Chancellor."
+
+"These are strange times," he told her, smiling without mirth, though
+with genuine affection.
+
+"Suppose--just suppose," she said, turning the pages slowly, "biology
+should be successful in stabilizing the species again. Would they _have_
+to set it back that far? I mean, either we or _they_ would feel awfully
+out of style."
+
+"What would you suggest?" he asked her solemnly.
+
+"Don't be nasty," she said loftily. Then she giggled again and ruffled
+his hair. "I wish you'd have it dyed one color," she told him. "Either
+black or gray--or why not a bright puce?"
+
+"What's for dinner?" he asked, adding, "If I can still eat after that."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The regional vice-chancellors were awaiting him in the
+next-to-the-innermost office when Bliss arrived at World
+Capital the next morning. Australia, Antarctica, Patagonia, Gobi,
+Sahara-Arabia--they followed him inside like so many penguins in the
+black-and-white official robes. All were deathly serious as they stated
+their problems.
+
+Gobi wanted annual rainfall cut from 60 to 45 centimeters.
+
+Sahara-Arabia was not receiving satisfactory food synthetics--there had
+been Moslem riots because of pork flavor in the meat.
+
+Patagonia was suffering through a species of sport-worm that was
+threatening to turn it into a desert if biology didn't come up with a
+remedy fast.
+
+Antarctica wanted temperature lowered from a nighttime norm of 62 deg.
+Fahrenheit to 57.6 deg. It seemed that the ice in the skating rinks,
+which were the chief source of exercise and entertainment for the
+populace, got mushy after ten p.m.
+
+Australia wanted the heavy uranium deposits under the Great Central
+Desert neutralized against its causing further mutations.
+
+For a moment, Bliss was tempted to remind his viceroys that it was not
+going to make one bit of difference whether they made their spoiled
+citizens happy or not. The last man on Earth would be dead within fifty
+years or so, anyway. But that would have been an unpardonable breach of
+taste. Everyone _knew_, of course, but it was never mentioned. To state
+the truth was to deny hope. And without hope, there was no life.
+
+Bliss promised to see that these matters were tended to at once, taking
+each in turn. This done, they discussed his making another whirlwind
+trip through the remaining major dominions of the planet to bolster
+morale. He was relieved when at last, the amenities concluded, the
+penguins filed solemnly out. He didn't know which he found more
+unattractive--Gobi's atrophied third leg, strapped tightly to the inside
+of his left thigh and calf, or Australia's jackass ears. Then, sternly,
+he reminded himself that it was not their fault they weren't as lucky as
+himself.
+
+Myra came in, her three eyes aglow, and said, "Boss, you were wrong for
+once in your life."
+
+"What is it this time?" he asked.
+
+"About that Martian ship," she repeated. "It just landed on the old
+spaceport. You can see it from the window."
+
+"For God's sake!" Bliss was on his feet, moving swiftly to the window.
+It was there--needle-nosed, slim as one of the mermaids in his private
+washroom, graceful as a vidar dancer. The entire length of it gleamed
+like silver in the sunlight.
+
+Bliss felt the premature old age that had been crowding upon him of late
+fall away like the wool of a sheep at shearing. Here, at last, was
+hope--real hope. After almost two and a half centuries of
+non-communication, the men of the infant planet had returned to the aid
+of the aging planet. For, once they saw the condition of Earth, and
+understood it, there could be no question of anything else.
+
+Mars, during the years of space-flight from Earth, had been the outlet
+for the mother planet's ablest, toughest, brightest, most aggressive
+young men and women. They had gone out to lick a hostile environment,
+they had been hand-picked for the job--and they had done it. The ship,
+out there in the poisonous Sahara, was living proof of their success.
+
+He turned from the window and went back to his desk. He said, "Myra,
+have their leader brought here to see me as soon as possible."
+
+"_Roger!_" she said, leaving him swiftly, gracefully. Again he thought
+it was too bad about her third eye. It had made it awfully hard for her
+to find a husband. He supposed he should be grateful, since it had made
+him an incomparably efficient secretary.
+
+The young man was space-burned and silver-blond of hair. He was broad
+and fair of feature and his body was tall and lean and perfect in his
+black, skin-tight uniform with the silver rocket-burst on the left
+breast. He stood at attention, lifted a gauntleted hand in salute and
+said, "Your excellency, Chancellor Bliss--Space-Captain Hon Yaelstrom of
+Syrtis City, Mars, bearing official rank of Inter-planetary legate
+plenipotentiary. My papers, sir."
+
+He stood stiff as a ramrod and laid a set of imposing-looking documents
+on the vast desk before Bliss. His accent was stiff as his spinal
+column. Bliss glanced casually at the papers, nodded and handed them
+back. So this, he thought, was how a "normal," a pre-atomic, a
+non-mutated human, looked. Impressive.
+
+Catching himself wandering, he pushed a box of costly smokes toward the
+ambassador.
+
+"_Nein_--no thank you, sir," was the reply.
+
+"Suppose you sit down and tell me what we can do for you," said Bliss,
+motioning toward a chair.
+
+"Thank you, sir, I prefer to stand," was the reply. And, when Bliss
+motioned that it was all right, "My mission is not a happy one,
+excellency. Due to overpopulation on Mars, I have been sent to inform
+the government of Earth that room must be made to take care of our
+overpopulation."
+
+"I see," Bliss leaned back in his chair, trying to read the situation
+correctly. "That may take a little doing. You see, we aren't exactly
+awash with real estate here."
+
+The reply was rigid and harsh. Captain Yaelstrom said, "I regret to
+remind your excellency that I have circled this planet before landing.
+It is incredibly rich in plant growth, incredibly underpopulated. And I
+assure your excellency that my superiors have not sent me here with any
+idle request. Mars must have room to emigrate."
+
+"And if we find ourselves unable to give it to you?"
+
+"I fear we shall have to take it, your excellency."
+
+Bliss studied the visitor from space, then said, "This is rather sudden,
+you know. I fear it will take time. You must have prospered amazingly on
+Mars to have overpopulated the planet so soon."
+
+"Conditions have not been wholly favorable," was the cryptic reply. "But
+as to time, we are scarcely in condition to move our surplus population
+overnight. It will take years--perhaps decades--twenty-five years at a
+minimum."
+
+Twenty-five years! That was too soon. If Captain Yaelstrom were a
+typical Martian, there was going to be trouble. Bliss recalled again
+that Earth had sent only its most aggressive young folk out to the red
+planet. He made up his mind then and there that he was somehow going to
+salvage for Earth its final half-century of peace.
+
+He said, "How many people do you plan to send here, Captain?"
+
+The ambassador hesitated. Then he said, "According to the computations
+of our experts, taking the population curve during the next twenty-five
+years into account, there will be seventeen million, three hundred
+thirty-two thousand five hundred--approximately."
+
+The figure was too large to be surplus, Bliss decided. It sounded to him
+as if humanity were about to abandon Mars completely. He wondered what
+the devil had gone wrong, decided this was hardly the time to ask. He
+offered Captain Yaelstrom a drink, which was refused, then asked him if
+he wouldn't like to wash up.
+
+To his mild surprise, the ambassador nodded eagerly. "I shall be
+grateful," he said. "You have no idea how cramped spaceship quarters can
+be."
+
+"I can imagine," said Bliss dryly. He led the way into the
+black-and-gold washroom, was amused at the slight but definite popping
+of ambassadorial eyes. Earth might be dying, he thought, but at least
+her destroyers would leave a heritage. He motioned toward the basin with
+its mermaid taps and Captain Yaelstrom hesitated, then began pulling off
+his black gauntlets.
+
+Bliss thought of something. "You mentioned twenty-five years," he said.
+"Is that Martian time or Earth time?"
+
+"Martian time," said the ambassador, letting the water run over his
+hands.
+
+Twenty-five years, Martian time--a Martian year was 1.88 Earth years.
+Bliss exhaled and said, "I think perhaps we shall be able to come to an
+agreement. It will take a little time, of course--channels, and all
+that."
+
+The Martian held his hands in front of the air-drier. They were strong,
+brown hands with long, muscular fingers. Bliss looked at them and knew
+the whole story. For, like himself, Captain Yaelstrom had seven fingers
+on each. Man had done no better on Mars than he had at home. The reason
+for such a desperate move as emigration was all too clear.
+
+Captain Yaelstrom stood back from the bowl, then noticed the stall
+shower. He said, "What is this? We have nothing like it on Mars."
+
+Bliss explained its several therapeutic uses, then said, "Perhaps you'd
+like to try it yourself while I order us luncheon."
+
+"May I, excellency?" the Martian legate asked eagerly.
+
+"Go right ahead," said Bliss magnanimously. "It's all yours."
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+    This etext was produced from _Fantastic Universe_ November 1956.
+    Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+    copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
+    typographical errors have been corrected without note.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of It's All Yours, by Sam Merwin
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IT'S ALL YOURS ***
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