Page:World Without Men (HT osu.32435053364535).pdf/138

On his seventy-fifth birthday Old Gavor was presented with a massive birthday cake bearing seventy-five electronic candles. The candles were so triggered that, at the slightest puff of breath from Gavor's feeble and wrinkled lips, they extinguished themselves automatically and in precise sequence, spelling out in dark ephemeral lines the words "Happy Birthday." It was a welcome touch of sentiment in a world that had long abandoned any pretension to sentiment. It was a gimmick designed to keep the last man in a childishly contented frame of mind, and Old Gavor knew it, but he didn't care any more.

For most of the day he amused himself by blowing out the electronic candles over and over again; the novelty remained fresh with him until late in the evening. Then he began to tire, and with the fatigue came peevishness. He took a knife and attempted to cut the cake in half, but, of course, it was made from a polythene compound and inedible, and presently, frustrated and annoyed, he swept the thing from the table on to the luxuriously carpeted floor, where it flashed and sparked and sputtered for several seconds, then emitted blue smoke as it lay dead and distorted.

Sulkily he crossed to the door and pressed the fourth button down on the adjacent control panel. A green light winked merrily. He scowled irascibly, then returned to the polythene