THE DOWNHILL SIDE OF THIRTY
BY VIRGIL F. SHOCKLEY
Health was no longer a problem for the
aged. All they had to do was ban sex and
tobacco to those over thirty-five....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, August 1958.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Chuck Dane patted shaving lotion on his face, enjoying the second ofvicious sting. He closed the medicine cabinet and stood for a minuteexamining himself in the fluorescent lighted mirror. He was lean andhard and, of course, tanned. A few grey hairs flecked the sideburns,but he didn't think that he looked thirty-five. And, damn it all tohell! he didn't feel thirty-five!
He opened the bathroom door, and hesitated. He dreaded to walk throughthe photoelectric beam and set off that odious disc! Sometimes he gotdown on hands and knees and crawled under. But he felt so damn silly!
Well, he couldn't stand there all day. It was Monday and they wouldexpect him at the office.
He squared his shoulders and walked into the hall.
The tinkly message followed him up the hall. "I could jam the damnthing!" he thought, "but they'd only repair it at daily Gov-AptsInspection and report me again!"
He pushed his hands into his pants pockets and walked into the diningell. He slouched in his chair, and watched Sally swish back and forthfrom the kitchen as she set the table. She was in blue nylon pajamasand fuzzy blue mules. Her red hair was tied up in a provocative ponytail.
She felt him watching her, gave him a devilish grin. "Sleep well lastnight, dear? In your own little bed?"
"You know damn well I didn't!" God, he wanted a cigarette. After twoyears he still wanted one! When would the hunger for them ever stop?
"You knew where I was sleeping. The door was unlocked!"
She came to him, suddenly compassionate, and sat on his lap. She pulledhis head against her. He felt, on his face, the slickness of the nylon,and underneath her firm body. She whispered, "You know honey, no matterwhat the government says, I'm not made for sleeping alone!"
"And I'm thirty-five and not 'spose to!"
"Thirty-five and eighty-nine days! How well I know! The toast!"
She scooted off his lap and ran into the kitchen. How she managed toburn toast in an electronic toaster beat him. By sending it down twice,he suspected.
He picked up the paper by his plate and unfolded it. The first page, asusual, was devoted to the Propagandists. Headlines proclaimed: "375died this weekend doing you know what." The second line asked: "Willyou be next?"
It made a good story because only three hundred deaths had beenpredicted. The bottom half of the page was filled with pictures ofthe victims and the spouses who "lead them on, knowing at the timethat over forty percent of the heart attacks in men and women overthirty-five are brought on by sexual relations."
Sally was leaning over him, serving his plate with scrambled eggs andham, but he tried to ignore her and turned to the next page. Here wasan editorial by the Department of Health. He scanned it. Same oldthing. Sex to be avoided like poison by all persons, male and female,over thirty-five years.
Chuck forked