Norman Spinrad - The Iron Dream

“I’m glad to see that the lines move so rapidly,” Feric remarked to Remler. “For humanitarian considerations as well as those of efficiency.”

Remler nodded crisply. “Some of these young fellows are so confident of admission to the SS that they try to trade off their rations for an earlier place in line,” he said.

Feric beamed as Remler led him around to a side door; he could well sympathize with such fervor. Still, it would not do to have the best potential SS candidates sap their physiques by starvation!

“Issue an order that any man caught trading off ms rations will be put back ten places in line,” he commanded. “We can’t let our best genetic purebreds starve themselves through misguided enthusiasm.”

“Yes, my Commander!” Remler replied as they entered the corrugated-steel shed.

The unpainted interior of the shed was starkly functional. Each of the four lines filed past a long counter which ran half the length of the building; behind these were long ranks of SS genetic analysts in trim black leather armed with batteries of tests which were administered in sequence to the inmates. The four lines debouched into a small open area well guarded by a dozen SS armed with truncheons and submachine guns. Beyond this, the rest of the shed was hidden by a sheet-steel wall broken only by four unmarked doorways. As each man completed his tests, he was directed through one of the doors for further processing. Feric noted that most of the men were ushered through the doorway on the .extreme right.

“We’ve recently developed four additional tests,” Remler told Peric proudly. “Each Helder must now meet twenty-three genetic criteria, and of course the entrance requirements for the SS are infinitely more stringent. Since we’ve already uncovered close to seventy thousand SS recruits in the Camps, we’ve been able to upgrade the SS criteria once more. The women’s Camps have produced nearly forty thousand females found genetically suitable for mating with the SS. Can you imagine what incredible specimens the next generation will produce, my Commander?”

“There’s no doubt about it, Remler,” Feric said, “you’ve worked wonders.”

Glowing with well-deserved pride, Remler led Feric through the extreme left-hand doorway, and into a small cubicle where two SS men armed with submachine guns and truncheons snapped to instant attention and saluted smartly at the sight of the Supreme Commander. In the floor of the cubicle was a dramhole; a water-hose was attached to a spigot projecting from a wall. The concrete floor was nevertheless stained a subtle reddish-brown.

“Thus far, we’ve uncovered only a few thousand Doms,” Remler said. “However, SS scientists are very close to developing a specific test for the Dominator genotype. As it is, I’m afraid that some Doms do escape with the more ordinary mongrels and mutants.”

Feric returned the salutes of the SS exterminators and nodded to Remler. “When a foolproof specific test has been developed, it will be a relatively simple matter to reprocess the sterilees and thus expunge the last Dominator gene from the face of Heldon.”

“At any rate, the problem will be solved in the next generation one way or the other,” Remler pointed out.

Remler led Feric through the far door of the extermination chamber, across a corridor, and into a large room filled with grinning, excited Helder queued up before a wall of storage bins to receive their new certificates of genetic purity and^their street clothes.

Before the SS Commandant could make a move to call for a salute, Feric was noticed and a slightly ragged massed chant of “Hail Jaggar!” accompanied by somewhat individualistic saluting broke out among these exuberant folk. This was followed by over a minute of spontaneous cheering.

Feric could not help breaking into a grin himself as he saluted in return. These Helder had good cause for rejoicing—they had passed the new stringent genetic tests and had been readmitted to the communion of true humanity.

Feric was deeply moved by their infectious joyousness; it renewed his iron determination to insure that true humans and only true humans inherited the future of the world.

Next Remler conducted him across the corridor again and into a long rectangular room that was obviously his pride and joy. The portal leading from the main processing area debouched directly in front of a counter behind which stood five SS genetic analysts, tall blond specimens all. Beyond this battery of genetic experts was an SS doctor equipped with all sorts of precision medical paraphernalia. The rear of the room was occupied by a series of desks at which sat tall, blond young men busily writing in test booklets under the supervision of an SS captain.

The sense of patriotic fervor and excitement in this room was all but palpable, for here those inmates who had given indication in the general testing were given the opportunity to pass the incredibly stringent genetic, somatic, mental, and patriotic rigors of the SS entrance examination.

At the sight of Feric, everyone in the room snapped to rigid attention, saluted, and roared “Hail Jaggar!” Feric saluted briefly in reply, and then indicated with a motion of his hand that the solemn testing should be carried out without taking note of his presence by further demonstrations. He himself led Remler out of the room through a side door, for these lads deserved to have their attention undivided at a time like this, and certainly the presence of their Supreme Commander at such a moment could hardly be called undistracting!

As he stepped through the doorway, Feric found himself confronting a queue of white-faced, stricken-looking specimens. SS men armed with truncheons and submachine guns guarded this line of unfortunates at regular intervals. At the head of the line stood an SS major with a clipboard and a scriber; beyond him were two doorways.

As Peric entered, he heard this functionary addressing the grim-faced Helder at the head of (he line, a decent-looking specimen by superficial appearence.

“It is my duty to inform you that you have failed to entirely measure up to the standards of the pure human genotype. You have two options: exile from the Fatherland forever or sterilization. Which do you choose?”

The fellow hesitated a moment; Feric spied tears in his eyes. Then suddenly Feric’s presence was noted and everyone—SS men and sour-faced inmates alike—snapped out Party salutes and shouted “Hail Jaggar!” with a vigor and enthusiasm that left nothing to be desired. Feric was deeply touched by such a demonstration of racial solidarity, coming as it did from those called upon to sacrifice their hope of future progeny for the good of the Fatherland.

A moment later, the Holder at the front of the line squared his shoulders, clicked his heels, came to attention and replied to the SS major clearly and firmly: “I choose sterilization for the good of the Fatherland!” He then gave a letter-perfect Party salute and marched resolutely through the right-hand doorway.

“Eighty-five percent of the rejects choose sterilization over exile,” Render whispered quietly in Feric’s ear.

Tears of mingled joy and sadness came to Feric’s eyes, for as reject after reject marched stoically through the right-hand door to be shorn of their generative powers, he knew that before his eyes was the ultimate proof of the justice of his cause and the triumph of the Swastika.

Field Marshall High Commander Lar Waffing arose somewhat ponderously to his feet, glanced at the great map behind Feric’s elevated chair, nodded at the generals assembled in the War Room of the Star Keep, smiled directly at Feric himself, then made his formal report.

“My Commander, it is both my honor and my pleasure to report that the renovation of the army may now be considered complete. Our forces now boast over three hundred tanks and the new factories continue to pour out scores more every week. We now have over two hundred fighters and dive-bombers and scores more rolling off the assembly lines. Half a million fine new men have been added to the ranks, and I’m proud to say that every Helder soldier is now equipped with a spanking new submachine gun as well as a formidable truncheon. Ammunition is in copious supply, and we’ve stockpiled enough petrol for a month of all-out war. Army scientists are in the process of reconstructing guided missiles and many other weapons of the ancients.