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Credits: Produced by Robert Cicconetti, Geetu Melwani and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net Transcriber's note. This etext was produced from Worlds of If, January 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the copyright on this publication was renewed. Everything was perfectly swell. There were no prisons, no slums, no insane asylums, no cripples, no poverty, no wars. All diseases were conquered. So was old age. Death, barring accidents, was an adventure for volunteers. The population of the United States was stabilized at forty-million souls. One bright morning in the Chicago Lying-in Hospital, a man named Edward K. Wehling, Jr., waited for his wife to give birth. He was the only man waiting. Not many people were born a day any more. Wehling was fifty-six, a mere stripling in a population whose average age was one hundred and twenty-nine. X-rays had revealed that his wife was going to have triplets. The children would be his first. Young