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                          _the human element_

                             BY LEO KELLEY

           _It was absolutely amazing what science could do.
           The last century of progress had been wonderful!
            Why even the circus was far better--or was it?_

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
               Worlds of If Science Fiction, June 1957.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


"Going to the circus?" the man with the sallow complexion asked.

Kevin nodded but didn't look at his questioner. He nervously brushed
back the lock of gray hair from his lined forehead and pushed his
rimless glasses into a more secure position on his nose. His worried
expression made him look older than his forty-eight years.

"Hear it's better than ever," the man continued in a flat toneless
voice. "_The Great Golden Ball_ is supposed to be really something.
Or so they say. I go every year. It's really amazing what they can do
nowadays--science, I mean. Even the circus is better for it."

Is it? thought Kevin as the speeding, robot driven monorail transport
rocketed past the brilliant pastel buildings shining slimly in the
sunlight filtering through the plastic dome covering New New York. Oh,
is it?

The man next to Kevin, discouraged by the lack of response to his
attempts at conversation, quieted and both men relaxed in the privacy
of their own thoughts.

At any rate, the other man did. Kevin couldn't relax. His son and
daughter-in-law with whom he lived could not be aware of his absence
yet, Kevin reassured himself. No one knew he was here. And when the men
came for him, and Sally, perhaps with tears in her eyes, went to fetch
him and his small suitcase it would be too late.

And that would be that.

The transport slowed noiselessly to a stop and most of the passengers
rose to leave. The robot driver sat motionless until the last of the
people, Kevin among them, stepped from the loading platform to the
ground. The electronic currents whirred, the doors closed and, the
circuit complete, the transport moved off into the shining caverns of
the city.

The people hurried forward and passed quickly through the entrance to
the amphitheater over which hung a sign:

                         MAIN ENTRANCE TO 2088
                         VERSION OF CALDWELL'S
                             GIANT CIRCUS

Kevin watched the people file through the entrance and slowly, almost
reluctantly, followed them. He presented the red plastic coin to
the robot at the entrance, but hardly heard as its electrical voice
crackled, "Thank you, sir. Enjoy the show."

Kevin walked with the crowd along the spotless corridor and stepped
aboard the automatic lift, getting out at the floor above. He seated
himself in one of the comfortable lounging chairs and shuddered
slightly as it fitted itself to the contours of his body. His fingers
clutched tightly the undistinguished box he carried and something
within him resisted the comfort offered by the large chair in which he
sat.

People continued to file in and take places and the amphitheater was
quickly filled. Soundlessly. The walls absorbed the sound and invisible
filters removed the dust from the air. Occasionally people took
small pills from the containers built into the sides of their chairs
and popped them into their mouths. Kevin knew the pills tasted like
popcorn, candy floss, and some even like hot dogs. But they were, of
course, not the same as the real thing. Neither was the amphitheater.

Once there had been great canvas tents put up in the open air, and wood
shavings covering the ground within, and hard benches for seats. The
area around the tents had been sprinkled with small stands that sold
soda in bottles and candy floss colored pink that melted into sweet
nothingness in one's mouth. And everywhere there was an exciting smell
made up of many separate things. Animals, the food-stuffs on sale,
sawdust, and the sweat of many human beings pressed tightly together on
the bleachers. There were the shouts of barkers, colored lights, and
men who sold little lizards that changed color as you watched them.
Kevin knew all this for he had read it in the book which he had bought
from the ancient shopkeeper in the run-down section of New New York,
how many years ago? Kevin smiled slightly to himself as he recalled
the puzzled expression on the shop-keeper's face when he purchased the
book.

The circus was beginning and Kevin interrupted his reverie to watch.

On small elevated squares in the center of the great arena stood
figures almost too horrible to look at. Some flailed many arms about
aimlessly; some simply stood--vacantly--and their undersize extra
limbs which should have been wings fluttered sadly. One or two figures
crawled about on their small squares scratching their scaly skins and
making whimpering noises. One seemed to be making efforts to rise from
where it lay in an amorphous heap, but was prevented from doing so by
a grotesque over-sized head which the creature seemed incapable of
raising from the slab on which it sprawled.

Kevin's stomach tightened. Every year, he knew, specimens such as
these, the products of the effects of radiation on the genes of
their parents or, perhaps, grandparents during the war that ended
nearly a hundred years ago, were placed on display in the circus on
their small squares where rising electrical currents instead of bars
imprisoned them. Even the freak shows in the twentieth century circus
were different from this. At least then the freaks were still, well,
_people_, and freely chose to exhibit their oddities for profit. In
many cases it was the only way they could earn a living. But this was
different. These senseless mutants were captured like animals after
having been abandoned by their parents; and were being displayed with
the same lack of humanity.

Kevin watched robots perform mindless feats of strength as the circus
continued. He saw colored opaque rays support a slab of concrete and
gasped with the rest of the audience as the heavy slab was suddenly
disintegrated by a sudden rainbow fusion of all the rays.

He listened as the recorded commercials whispered their wiles to the
captive audience.

Suddenly a panel slowly opened in the ceiling of the amphitheater and
dramatically, silently, an immense golden sphere descended until it
hung glistening at the end of its thin cable in the center of the great
arena. The lights dimmed and a hush fell over the crowd. The sphere
suddenly glowed brightly and, at this signal, all other lights in the
amphitheater were turned off. Kevin stared as the sphere began to
rotate on its axis. He heard the first reaction the audience had yet
shown; the "ohs" and "ahs" that used to accompany fireworks displays in
the old days. He looked into the sphere and could not believe what he
saw. _He_ was in the sphere and he--! Everyone would know, he thought
in horror and fear! He tore his eyes from the sphere and looked,
expecting anything, at the people near him whose faces were dimly
visible in the light from the sphere. They all gazed spellbound at the
hypnotically revolving globe. Kevin listened as a woman whispered to
the man next to her without taking her eyes from the shining bubble.

"Can you see it, Jim?"

"Yeah," the man answered softly.

"I always dreamed of playing a love scene with Dirk Anders. He's the
best actor in the Lifies. And there I am! Doing it--in the Golden
Ball," the woman sighed.

"That's not what I see," the man said in a low voice, not taking his
eyes from the turning globe. Kevin watched the man's mouth working. Saw
him wipe the spittle from the corners of his mouth. He turned away from
the naked look in the man's eager eyes.

A child of nine or ten in front of Kevin clutched excitedly at the
sleeve of the woman next to him. "I'm in there, Mom! See me! And I've
got a dog! See, he's all black with one white paw! Just like I told you
I wanted him to be, Mom!"

The woman answered her son absently as she stared intently into the
ball and Kevin wondered what private and personal dream she saw
herself living. _The Great Golden Ball_, as it turned hypnotically
on its cable, was providing everyone with a vision of his or her own
particular wish-fulfillment. The spellbound audience was happily
wallowing in a dream world.

Kevin left his seat abruptly and boarded the lift in the corridor. On
the lower floor he searched until he found the entrance to the arena.
It was temporarily empty, but soon the robots would be using it as they
brought equipment into the arena for the next display. Kevin opened his
box and took from it the gaudy costume he had secretly made. Quickly he
slipped it over his clothes. He took out a small mirror and, working
quickly, covered his face with white powder. As he applied grease paint
to his face in bright, bold strokes, a saucy grin smiled back at him
from the mirror's surface. He slipped the white skull piece over his
head and fastened the red wig to it. One last look in the mirror and he
was ready.

Kevin skipped lightly, in spite of his forty-eight years, out into the
glaring light of the arena.

Silence greeted him.

He walked about. He skipped. And suddenly fell. He rose, rubbing the
place of his contact with the floor, and scanned the floor beneath his
feet. Suddenly, he threw up his hands in mock surprise and, bending
from the waist, picked up something from the floor. Triumphantly he
held it up. It took the audience a minute or two to "see" the imaginary
straw, or pin, or whatever it was, that was clutched between Kevin's
thumb and index finger. His painted smile beamed on the people before
him and seemed to grow larger as a faint titter arose from a little
girl in the first tier of seats.

Kevin waved to her.

She hid her face in her hands. And then waved shyly back.

Kevin skipped about the arena watching the people whispering among
themselves. The softest ripple of laughter ran through the audience and
Kevin's heart soared. He repeated his fall and waved to a small boy who
waved wildly back.

Kevin's wig bobbed gaily as he hopped and strutted about the arena
waving to the children.

"Wave to me! Wave to me!" cried a shrill voice from the stands.

Kevin did not see the robots approaching on the run and yet was not
surprised when they seized him and carried him from the arena, his red
wig still bobbing gaily. It could not have ended otherwise, Kevin knew.
But no matter. The children had laughed. So had many of the adults.

       *       *       *       *       *

The robots deposited him in the corridor beside the entrance to the
arena and Kevin found himself facing two well dressed and corpulent
gentlemen.

"What's going on here?" shouted the first man. This was Mr. Caldwell
himself, the owner of the circus. His picture had been on the Communico
Screen in connection with the advertising for the circus Kevin
remembered.

"Are you crazy?" the second man sputtered.

Kevin slowly removed the wig and the white skull piece and stood with
lowered eyes, his arms at his sides, facing the two angry men. As they
continued to shout at him for an explanation Kevin, using the skull
piece, wiped the clown make-up from his face.

Both men, out of breath, paused and Kevin opened his mouth to speak. "I
want to apolo--," he began but Caldwell interrupted him.

"Hey, Mike," he said to the other man, "Isn't this the guy whose
picture they're sending out on the Communico Screen? You know, the guy
who ran away from his son's house before they could send him to the
Psych Center?"

Kevin didn't give the man a chance to answer the question. "That's
true, sir, and I'm going home now. I'm sorry for the trouble I've
caused but I had to do it. I--," he faltered. How could he explain
about what he had done and why he had done it? Kevin brushed the gray
lock of hair back from his forehead and reached absently for the
glasses he had removed earlier while applying his make-up. "It's a very
long story," he said finally and there was a weariness in his tone that
was not merely the result of his exertion in the arena moments before.

He stood quietly before the two men. The shouting from the arena did
not quite penetrate his consciousness.

Kevin thought of Sally and Edward and how they had reluctantly decided
to send him to the Psych Rehabilitation Center because he persisted
in "living in the past" as they put it and refused to be suitably
interested in or impressed with the "progress" their century had made.
When Kevin had tried to explain that the progress they spoke of was
not all, he sincerely believed, of a worthwhile nature they had merely
shrugged and looked at him oddly.

He was willing to go through with the Psychlab's "Rehabilitation
Program" now for he had proved his point. There were some good things
from the past and a clown was one of them.

A circus without noise and fanfare and excitement and laughter was
nothing. He hated the sterility of its present scientific gadgetry.
The best that could be said for it was that it did no obvious harm. But
with the advent of _The Great Golden Ball_ people were taking one more
step away from what could be a pleasant reality and one more step in
the direction of Dreamland. And Kevin was certain that this Dreamland
would one day prove to be crawling with nightmares.

"--something written about this a long time ago," Caldwell was saying
to his assistant. "Looks like its got possibilities. Back in the 1900's
they used to have these guys who made fools of themselves in the
circus. People loved them. Sorta made them see their own faults and
frustrations and all."

"But, sir--" the younger man began.

"I know we're supposed to be a streamlined outfit, but you can hear
that crowd yelling out there as well as I can. That's proof enough for
me! This thing's good!"

Kevin listened in amazement. This was not the way he had expected
things to go. They should have sent him home in the custody of one of
the robots by now. Or called the Psych Rehabilitation Center to have
someone come and get him.

"What's your name, dad?" Caldwell asked.

"Molloy. Kevin Molloy," Kevin answered, feeling shy all at once. "But I
didn't--"

"Listen Molloy. Get out there and do whatever you did before. No, don't
ask any questions now. We can settle details later. But from now on
you're working for Caldwell's Circus!"

Kevin pulled the skull piece on his head once again and with shaking
fingers applied his grease paint. It was a poor job but Kevin hoped it
would look good enough. Still fastening the red wig, he ran out into
the arena and was stopped short by the thunderous roar that went up
from the crowd. Kevin lifted a boy from the stands and sat down on the
floor of the arena, the boy on his lap. The age old game began. Kevin's
hands covered his face. The boy pulled away one finger after another
until Kevin's painted smile beamed out at him. They laughed together.

Kevin played the clown and listened simultaneously to the voice
shouting in his mind. Sally had always said an older man should have a
hobby or something to keep him occupied. That was why I got such crazy
ideas, she said, because I didn't have enough to do since I retired.
Well, now I've got more than a hobby. I've got a job. I'm a _clown_!
Maybe I can get Caldwell to put some sawdust on this floor; it's
awfully slippery.

Kevin placed the boy back in the stands and skipped about the arena.

Maybe he'll put up a candy floss stand and sell popcorn instead of all
those pills, Kevin thought as he smiled at the happy crowd.

Kevin slipped, fell, and the crowd howled its delight when he found the
imaginary straw.

As he staggered exhausted from the arena, his heart singing, Mr.
Caldwell was still excitedly talking to his assistant, who was
vigorously nodding his head in agreement.

"----remember some ancient history myself! We'll get him to teach some
other guys the same kind of stuff. Remind me to ask him about that. I
figure maybe we've come full circle on this, and he's got just what we
need around here----the human element."