The Edge of Tomorrow Read Free

now. But a job is a job.
    It took me a week to follow the Professor’s meandering through Cape Town—only to find out that he took off for London in 1944. Evidently, they needed him there. I am off to London
    Love, Harry
    By diplomatic pouch
    Washington, D. C.
    December 26, 1945
    Mr. Harry Felton
    London, England
    Dear Harry:
    This is dead serious. By now, you must have found the professor. We believe that despite protestations of your own idiocy, you have enough sense to gauge his method. Sell him this venture. Sell him! We will give him whatever he asks—and we want him to work with us as long as he will.
    Briefly, here is what we are up to. We have been allocated a tract of eight thousand acres in Northern California. We intend to establish an environment there—under military guard and security. In the beginning, the outside world will be entirely excluded. The environment will be controlled and exclusive.
    Within this environment, we intend to bring forty children to maturity—to a maturity that will result in man-plus.
    As to the details of this environment—well that can wait. The immediate problem is the children. Out of forty, ten will be found in the United States; the other thirty will be found by the professor and yourself—outside of the United States.
    Half are to be boys; we want an even boy-girl balance. They are to be between the ages of six months and nine months, and all are to show indications of an exceedingly high IQ—that is, if the professor’s method is any good at all.
    We want five racial groupings: Caucasian, Indian, Chinese, Malayan and Bantu. Of course, we are sensible of the vagueness of these groupings, and you have some latitude within them. The six so-called Caucasian infants are to be found in Europe. We might suggest two northern types, two Central European types, and two Mediterranean types. A similar breakdown might be followed in other areas.
    Now understand this—no cops and robbers stuff, no OSS, no kidnapping. Unfortunately, the world abounds in war orphans—and in parents poor and desperate enough to sell their children. When you want a child and such a situation arises, buy! Price is no object. I will have no maudlin sentimentality or scruples. These children will be loved and cherished—and if you should acquire any by purchase, you will be giving a child life and hope.
    When you find a child, inform us immediately. Air transport will be at your disposal—and we are making all arrangements for wet nurses and other details of child care. We shall also have medical aid at your immediate disposal. On the other hand, we want healthy children—within the general conditions of health within any given area.
    Now good luck to you. We are depending on you and we love you. And a merry Christmas.
    Jean
    By diplomatic pouch
    Copenhagen, Denmark
    February 4, 1946
    Mrs. Jean Arbalaid
    Washington, D. C.
    Dear Jean:
    I seem to have caught your silly top-secret and classified disease, and I have been waiting for a free day and a diplomatic pouch to sum up my various adventures. From my “guarded” cables, you know that the professor and I have been doing a Cook’s Tour of the baby market. My dear sister, this kind of shopping spree does not sit at all well with me. However, I gave my word, and there you are. I will complete and deliver.
    By the way, I suppose I continue to send these along to Washington, even though your “environment,” as you call it, has been established. I’ll do so until otherwise instructed.
    There was no great difficulty in finding the professor. Being in uniform—I have since acquired an excellent British wardrobe—and having all the fancy credentials you were kind enough to supply, I went to the War Office. As they say, every courtesy was shown to Major Harry Felton, but I feel better in civilian clothes. Anyway, the professor had been working with a child reclamation project, living