MATE IN TWO MOVES
By WINSTON MARKS
Illustrated by ASHMAN
[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science FictionMay 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Love came somewhat late to Dr. Sylvester Murt. In fact, it took theepidemic of 1961 to break down his resistance. A great many people fellin love that year—just about every other person you talked to—so noone thought much about Dr. Murt's particular distress, except a fellowvictim who was directly involved in this case.
High Dawn Hospital, where 38-year-old Dr. Murt was resident pathologist,was not the first medical institution to take note of the "plague." Thesymptoms first came to the attention of the general practitioners, thento the little clinics where the G. P.s sent their patients. But longbefore anything medical was done about it, the plague was sweeping Northand South America and infiltrating every continent and island in theworld.
Murt's assistant, Dr. Phyllis Sutton, spotted the first irregularity inthe Times one morning and mentioned it to him. They were having coffeein Murt's private office-lab, after completing reports on two rushbiopsies.
She looked up from the editorial page and remarked, "You know, someoneshould do a research on the pathology of pantie raids."
Murt spooned sugar into his mug of coffee and stared at her. In theirsix months' association, it was the first facetious remark she had madein his presence. To this moment, he had held an increasing regard forher quiet efficiency, sobriety, professional dignity and decorum. True,she wore her white coat more tightly belted than was necessary and,likewise, she refused to wear the very low hospital heels that thickenedfeminine ankles. But she wore a minimum of come-hither in both hercosmetic and personality makeup. This startling remark, then, was mostunexpected.
"Pantie raids?" he inquired. "Whatever would justify an inquiry intosuch a patently behavioristic problem?"
"The epidemic nature and its increasing virulence," she replied soberly."This spring, the thing has gotten out of hand, according to thiseditorial. A harmless tradition at a few of the more uninhibitedcampuses has turned into a national collegiate phenomenon. And nowsecondary effects are turning up. Instructors say that intramuralromance is turning the halls of ivy into amatory rendezvous."
Murt sipped his coffee and said, "Be thankful you aren't a psychiatrist.Bacterial mutations are enough of a problem, without ponderingunpredictable emotional disturbances."
His assistant pursued it further. "It says the classrooms are emptyinginto the marriage bureaus, and graduation exercises this year will be amockery if something isn't done. What's more, statistics show astartling increase in marriages at the high school level."
Murt shrugged broad shoulders that were slightly bent from long hoursover a microscope. "Then be thankful you aren't an overworkedobstetrician," he offered as an amendment.
She glanced up from the paper, with annoyance showing in her dark,well-spaced eyes. "Is it of no interest to you that several hundredthousand youngsters are leaving high school and college prematurelybecause they can'