The Meeting - Frederik Pohl, ebook, CALIBRE SFF 1970s, Temp 2
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Pohl, Frederik & Kornbluth, C. M. - The MeetingTHE MEETINGFour Hugos sat there resplendent on that one table and I felt revolted that wehad not made a clean sweep. I turned to sweet, innocent Gordie and said,censoriously, "Your non-Hugo presence at this table disgraces us. Aren't youashamed?"He hung his head and pretended to wipe a tear from his eye but I know phoninesswhen I see it. He wasn't crying. He won in the short story category with"Soldier, Ask Not" at the twenty-third convention in London, in 1965?this isincluded in Volume Two?and of course, he's let it go to his head.Personally, I can't stand people without humility. I'm surprised more peopledon't model themselves on me. I take great pride in the extent of my humility.I was pleased, by the way, that Cyril was in this way recorded in the archivesas a Hugo winner. He died on March 21, 1958, at the age of thirty-six. Had helived a normal life-span, he would undoubtedly have won a number of Hugos on hisown.THE MEETINGFrederik Pohl and C.M. KornbluthHarry Vladek was too large a man for his Volkswagen, but he was too poor a manto trade it in, and as things were going he was going to stay that way a longtime. He applied the brakes carefully ("master cylinder's leaking like a sieve,Mr. Vladek. What's the use of just fixing up the linings?"?but the estimate wasa hundred and twenty-eight dollars, and where was it going to come from?) andparked in the neatly graveled lot. He squeezed out of the door, the upsettingtelephone call from Dr. Nicholson on his mind, locked the car up, and went intothe school building.The Parent-Teachers Association of the Bingham County School for ExceptionalChildren was holding its first meeting of the term. Of the twenty people alreadythere, Vladek knew only Mrs. Adler, the principal, or headmistress, or owner ofthe school. She was the one he needed to talk to most, he thought. Would therebe any chance to see her privately? Right now she sat across the room at herscuffed golden-oak desk in a posture chair, talking in low, rapid tones with agray-haired woman in a tan suit. A teacher? She seemed too old to be a parent,although his wife had told him some of the kids seemed to be twenty or more.It was 8:30 and the parents were still driving up to the school, a convertedbuilding that had once been a big country house-almost a mansion. The livingroom was full of elegant reminders of that. Two chandeliers. Intricate vineleafmolding on the plaster above the dropped ceiling. The pink-veined, white-marblefireplace, unfortunately prominent because of the unsuitable andirons, too cheapand too small, that now stood in it. Golden-oak, sliding double doors to thehall. And visible through them a grim, fireproof staircase of concrete andsteel. They must, Vladek thought, have had to rip out a beautiful wooden thingto install the fireproof stairs for compliance with the state school laws.People kept coming in, single men, single women, and occasionally a couple. Hewondered how the couples managed their baby-sitting problem. The subtitle on theschool's letterhead was "an institution for emotionally disturbed and cerebrallydamaged children capable of education." Harry's nine-year-old Thomas was one ofthe emotionally disturbed ones. With a taste of envy he wondered if cerebrallydamaged children could be baby-sat by any reasonably competent grown-up. Thomascould not. The Vladeks had not had an evening out together since he was two, sothat tonight Margaret was holding the fort at home, no doubt worrying herselfsick about the call from Dr. Nicholson, while Harry was representing the familyat the PTA.As the room filled up, chairs were getting scarce. A young couple was standingat the end of the row near him, looking around for a pair of empty seats."Here," he said to them. "I'll move over." The woman smiled politely and the mansaid thanks. Emboldened by an ashtray on the empty seat in front of him, Harrypulled out his pack of cigarettes and offered it to them, but it turned out theywere nonsmokers. Harry lit up anyway, listening to what was going on around him.Everybody was talking. One woman asked another, "How's the gall bladder? Arethey going to take it out after all?" A heavy-balding man said to a short manwith bushy sideburns, "Well, my accountant says the tuition's medicallydeductible if the school is for psychosomatic, not just for psycho. That we'vegot to clear up." The short man told him positively, "Right, but all you need isa doctor's letter: he recommends the school, refers the child to the school."And a very young woman said intensely, "Dr. Shields was very optimistic, Mrs.Clerman, He says without a doubt the thyroid will make Georgie accessible. Andthen?" A light-coffee-colored black man in an aloha shirt told a plump woman,"He really pulled a wingding over the weekend, two stitches in his face, bustedmy fishing pole in three places." And the woman said, "They get so bored. Mylittle girl has this thing about crayons, so that rules out coloring booksaltogether. You wonder what you can do."Harry finally said to the young man next to him, "My name's Vladek. I'm Tommy'sfather. He's in the beginners group.""That's where ours is," said the young man. "He's Vern, Six years old. Blondlike me. Maybe you've seen him."Harry did not try very hard to remember. The two or three times he had pickedTommy up after class he had not been able to tell one child from another in thegreat bustle of departure. Coats, handkerchiefs, hats, one little girl whoalways hid in the supply closet and a little boy who never wanted to go home andhung onto the teacher. "Oh, yes," he said politely.The young man introduced himself and his wife; they were named Murray and CeliaLogan. Harry leaned over the man to shake the wife's hand, and she said, "Aren'tyou new here?""Yes. Tommy's been in the school a month. We moved in from Elmira to be nearit." He hesitated, then added, "Tommy's nine, but the reason he's in thebeginners group is that Mrs. Adler thought it would make the adjustment easier."Logan pointed to a suntanned man in the first row. "See that fellow with theglasses? He moved here from Texas. Of course, he's got money.""It must be a good place," Harry said questioningly.Logan grinned, his expression a little nervous."How's your son?" Harry asked."That little rascal," said Logan. "Last week I got him another copy of the MyFair Lady album, I guess he's used up four or five of them, and he goes aroundsinging luv-er-ly, luv-er-ly.' But look at you? No.""Mine doesn't talk," said Harry.Mrs. Logan said judiciously, "Ours talks. Not to anybody, though. It's like awall.""I know," said Harry, and pressed. "Has, ah, has Vern shown much improvementwith the school?"Murray Logan pursed his lips. "I would say, yes. The bedwetting's not too good,but life's a great deal smoother in some ways. You know, you don't hope for adramatic breakthrough. But in little things, day by day, it goes smoother.Mostly smoother. Of course there are setbacks."Harry nodded, thinking of seven years of setbacks, and two years of growingworry and puzzlement before that. He said, "Mrs. Adler told me that, forinstance, a special outbreak of destructiveness might mean something like aplateau in speech therapy. So the child fights it and breaks out in some otherdirection.""That too," said Logan, "but what I meant?Oh, they're starting."Vladek nodded, stubbing out his cigarette and absent-mindedly lighting another.His stomach was knotting up again. He wondered at these other parents, whoseemed so safe and well, untouched. Wasn't it the same with them as withMargaret and himself? And it had been a long time since either of them had feltthe world comfortable around them, even without Dr. Nicholson pressing for adecision. He forced himself to lean back and look as tranquil as the others.Mrs. Adler was tapping her desk with a ruler. "I think everybody who is comingis here," she said. She leaned against the desk and waited for the room to quietdown. She was short, dark, plump, and surprisingly pretty. She did not look atall like a competent professional. She looked so unlike her role that, in fact,Harry's heart had sunk three months ago when their correspondence aboutadmitting Tommy had been climaxed by the long trip from Elmira for theinterview. He had expected a steel-gray lady with rimless glasses, a Valkyrie ina white smock like the nurse who had held wriggling, screaming Tommy whilewaiting for the suppository to quiet him down for his first EEC, a disheveledold fraud, he didn't know what. Anything except this pretty young woman. Anotherblind alley, he had thought in despair. Another, after a hundred too manyalready. First, "Wait for him to outgrow it." He doesn't. Then, "We mustreconcile ourselves to God's will." But you don't want to. Then give him theprescription three times a day for three months. And it doesn't work. Then chasearound for six months with the Child Guidance Clinic to find out it's onlyletterheads and one circuit-riding doctor who doesn't have time for anything.Then, after four dreary, weepy weeks of soul-searching, the State TrainingSchool, and find out it has an eight-year waiting list. Then the privatecustodial school, and find they're fifty-five hundred dollars a year?withoutmedical treatment!?and where do you get fifty-five hundred dollars a year? Andall the time everybody warns you, as if you didn't know it: "Hurry! Dosomething! Catch it early! This is the criti...
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