Prescription for Chaos - By Christopher Anvil Page 0,1
I know," said the doctor, "this sounds like a scene from a horror teleshow. But the fact is that the, er, change was brought about, among other things, with the use of glandular secretions. A few chemicals were even used that don't ordinarily exist in the adult human body. Now our doctors have stabilized your physique as effectively as they can." She shuffled through the papers. "But you'll need to use a jectokit. We have yours here."
She handed across a small cream-colored plastic box. "The directions are indented into the box, so you can't make any mistake if you read them. Your body can store some of these substances for a time, but don't go longer than ten days without them. Don't get cocky. You're a beautiful woman now, but remember, your beauty rests on that little box. After six months, we'll give you a refill, or one of our branch stores will. You're safe, so long as you do as I say." The doctor looked up to see how her listener was taking it. She received a breath-taking smile in return.
"I'm off," said the new beauty, "to find a man."
"That won't be hard," murmured the doctor a little ruefully.
The wedding, three months later, was a striking one. The women stared enviously at the tall handsome breadth of the bridegroom, and the men watched the bride with bulging eyes. When the ceremony was over, and the couple occupied the bridal suite for the night, there was a momentary interlude.
"Darling," murmured the bride, "forgive me for a moment. I want to pretty up."
"You're pretty enough to eat," said the groom huskily.
She laughed and slipped past him to the bathroom door with her travel case. "Compose yourself," she smiled. "I'll be out in five minutes."
The groom smiled back. "Five minutes, then."
Once inside, she locked the door and brought out the little yellow plastic box. She clicked open the cover and looked at the photograph snapped inside. "Cinderella, Inc." said the legend, "reminds you."
"I remember," she said, and began her ritual.
In the bedroom, the groom was in his shirtsleeves whistling and unpacking his suitcase. Suddenly he stopped and stared at a little brown plastic box rolled up in his bathrobe. "By George," he gasped, "I almost forgot."
Hastily, he rolled up his sleeve. . ..
Roll Out The Rolov!
Maryn was bored. She emerged from her bath dripping and unattractive, and waited resignedly as the Warm-Dry blew her lank young hair back from her forehead. The autotape whipped out and took the measurements of her immature figure.
From the bedroom nearby, the memory box spoke with her mother's recorded voice: "Hurry up, Maryn."
"Yes, Mother," said Maryn obediently, knowing the memory-box would record her answer.
"It's almost eight," said her mother's voice, timed to go off when it was almost eight.
"Yes, Mother," said Maryn obediently.
"Well, you'd better hurry. Jackson won't want to be kept waiting."
"Yes, Mother," said Maryn. She pressed her hand along the flat length of her body and found she was dry. She waved her hand through the light beam and the Warm-Dry clicked off with a dying sigh. Maryn stepped on the travel-rug and pressed with her toes. The travel-rug slid with her into a luxurious bedroom.
"Jackson won't want to be kept waiting, Maryn," said her mother's voice from the memory box.
"No, Mother," said Maryn. The "Jackson" her mother referred to was young Jackson Mellibant VII, just down from Herriman College. To her mother's delight, he had asked Maryn for a date.
"Remember," said her mother, "the Mellibants are very influential. You may not have another chance like this."
"No, Mother," groaned Maryn. She pressed down with her heels and the rug stopped before a pastel pink egg about five feet high. Maryn pressed down with the toes of her left foot and the heel of her right. The rug pivoted her around. Maryn passed her hand through a beam of blue light and the egg snicked open. Maryn stepped in and it closed around her, leaving only her head outside.
"Maryn," said her mother's voice, "I do think you should hurry. Are you getting your foundation yet?"
"Yes, Mother," said Maryn, who was now being buffeted about slightly, within the egg. Inside the pastel pink, egg-shaped machine, her body was being, as the advertisement put it, reborn.
"Remember," said her mother, "you must look your best, Maryn."
"Yes, Mother."
"Now, Maryn," said her mother's voice from the box, "remember if he gets—forward—you aren't to be naive."
"No, Mother," groaned Maryn.
"Lead him on, Maryn. Remember, the Mellibants are very influential."