A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
"Science fiction is the very literature of change. In fact, it is the only such literature we have."
- Frederik Pohl
||Smarter People Having Fewer Children
||The original argument that less suitable human pairs are having proportionally more children.
|Mr. Barlow, I understand you and your lamented had no children."
"What of it?"
"This of it. You were a blind, selfish stupid ass to tolerate economic and social conditions which penalized child-bearing by the prudent and foresighted. You made us what we are today, and I want you to know that we are far from satisfied. Damn-fool rockets! Damn-fool automobiles! Damn-fool cities with overhead ramps!"
"As far as I can see," said Barlow, "you're running down the best features of time. Are you crazy?"
"The rockets aren't rockets. They're turbo-jets—good turbo-jets, but the fancy shell around them makes for a bad drag. The automobiles have a top speed of one hundred kilometers per hour—a kilometer is, if I recall my paleolinguistics, three-fifths of a mile—and the speedometers are all rigged accordingly so the drivers will think they're going two hundred and fifty. The cities are ridiculous, expensive, unsanitary, wasteful conglomerations of people who'd be better off and more productive if they were spread over the countryside.
"We need the rockets and trick speedometers and cities because, while you and your kind were being prudent and foresighted and not having children, the migrant workers, slum dwellers and tenant farmers were shiftlessly and short-sightedly having children—breeding, breeding. My God, how they bred!"
"Wait a minute," objected Barlow. "There were lots of people in our crowd who had two or three children."
"The attrition of accidents, illness, wars and such took care of that. Your intelligence was bred out. It is gone. Children that should have been born never were. The just-average, they'll-get-along majority took over the population. The average IQ now is 45."
"But that's far in the future—"
"So are you," grunted the hawk-faced man sourly.
|From The Marching Morons,
by C.M. Kornbluth.
Published by Galaxy Science Fiction in 1951
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