"Who'd have thought a little baby could turn out to be such a rat?"
"He's not a rat," Haywood said. "It's just that too much knowledge was given to him all at once and he didn't know how to use it properly. It only proves again that humans can only learn through experience. We've made a tragic mistake, Mac."
"And it's getting tragic-er by the minute," Mac said hollowly. "If that kid gets hold of the world.... What'll they do to us, Haywood?"
"I hesitate to even put it into words," Haywood murmured.
"The way that kid's organized," Mac said, "he's a cinch to be a world-wide scandal by sunset. Ain't there nothing we can do to stop it?"
"I've been trying to think of something," Haywood said.
Mac looked at him hopefully. "Give it everything you've got, Haywood," he said. "You've got the brains."
Slowly, Haywood began to drum his fingers on a nearby cloud bank....
At the focal point of this heavenly concern, A.P. finally managed to raise his voice above the angry din that raged about him. His small voice piped like a penny whistle.
"Stop clutching at me!" he shrieked. "My diaper is coming loose!"
The clutching however, did not stop, nor did the yanking, hauling, and pulling. Slowly, the diaper slithered loose from A.P.'s pudgy mid-section and dropped to the floor. The future dictator of the world blushed furiously.
"Stop!" he yelled. "For heaven's sake!"
After a moment, the fact that they had literally snatched the poor infant naked finally penetrated the minds of the struggling group. There was a sudden shame-faced silence.
"Well!" A.P. said indignantly, "the least you could do is turn me over. Now, unhand me, the lot of you, before I really lose my temper!"
Under this threat, all concerned acted almost as though under a hypnotic command. Simultaneously, everyone withdrew their support. All hands, so to speak, returned from active combat. The obvious, though unforeseen, result followed swiftly and shockingly; A.P. dropped to the floor, meeting its polished surface with the back of his head and a dull, ominous thud.
There was a sudden communal gasp, then horrified silence. Ginny was the first to recover her voice.
"He's dropped!" she said in a ghastly whisper. "On his head!"
"He told us to let go of him," the nurse said.
"He didn't mean all of us," a distinguished grey-haired gentleman said. "I should have realized it."
"It was as though my hand was taken away," Lester said wonderingly.
Ginny stooped down and took A.P. gently in her arms. As she straightened, the small form stirred and opened his eyes.
"He's all right, isn't he?" a voice asked hopefully.
Slowly, A.P.'s head lolled heavily to the side. In his eyes there was a totally new expression, or, rather, a new lack of expression. The young man with the glasses held the telephone forward.
"Evans is still waiting for an answer, A.P.," he said.
A.P.'s gaze seemed to penetrate the telephone and go beyond it. His lips parted with a slack toothlessness that had not before been apparent. Suddenly he began to cry, and his voice raised in a thin, distinctly babyish howl.
"Oh, no!" the young man whispered, and the telephone slowly slipped from his hand.
Six years later, in another house and another suburb, where there was no Mrs. Hilliard next door and their child was known merely as 'little Freddie Holmes,' Lester and Ginny lived in quiet obscurity. If there were those in the world who remembered the formidable A.P. they never mentioned it publicly, presumably loathe to admit that they had ever placed themselves at the command of a mere infant. Now, shifting uneasily in his chair, Lester looked up worriedly as Ginny returned from the hallway. He watched as she moved toward him and placed a hand gently on his shoulder.
"It's all right," Ginny said. "He's only listening to the music on the radio."
"That's good," Lester sighed. "He can't learn much from that."
"We're both far too edgy about Freddie, dear," Ginny said. "After all, he really hasn't shown any signs of dominating—not really since the beginning."
"I know," Lester said, "but what about this?" He held up the offending class paper. "I still think this tendency to get 'excellents' is dangerous."
"I know, dear," Ginny said, "but the doctors all said he was perfectly normal for a child of his intelligence." She patted his shoulder consolingly. "He's just bright, that's all, and we mustn't worry about it so much."
Lester nodded wearily. "I suppose not," he said. With a sigh, he dropped the paper to the floor.
Outside, in the dark and distant heavens, ever so faintly, the sigh was echoed in duplicate.