Jag letar efter en kort historia om en stad som inte hade några läkare eller apotek och sjuka människor togs till torget.
"Vänta" (aka "Att tas i ett konstigt land") av Kit Reed , först publicerad i Tidningen Fantasy och Science Fiction , april 1958 , tillgänglig på Internetarkiv . Staden (fiktiv förstås) är Babylon, Georgia, som utövar en (förmodligen mytisk) anpassad av antika Babylonien, rapporterad av Herodotus .
Jag tror att det var en familj som gick igenom
Penetrating a windshield blotched with decalcomanias of every tourist attraction from Luray Caverns to Silver Springs, Miriam read the road sign.
"It's Babylon, Georgia, Momma. Can't we stop?"
"Sure, sweetie. Anything you want to do." The little, round, brindle woman took off her sunglasses. "After all, it's your trip."
"I know, Momma, I know. All I want is a popsicle, not the Grand Tour."
och damen blev sjuk.
"Momma, I've changed my mind. I don't want a popsicle. Let's get out of here, please. Momma?"
"If you don't mind, sweetie, I want a coke." Her mother dropped on a bench. "I don't feel so good. My head . . ."
Tanken var att du skulle stanna på torget och folk som passerade skulle ge några av sina gamla mediciner som hjälpte dem med sin egen liknande sjukdom. Staden hade inte ett apotek eller en läkare, och du kunde inte lämna torget tills du inte längre var sjuk.
Frightened but glad to be away from the smell of sickness, Miriam followed Herman Clark down a side street. "You can come home with me, honey," he said. "I've got a daughter just about your age, and you'll be well taken care of until that mother of yours gets well." Miriam smiled, reassured, used to following her elders. "Guess you're wondering about our little system," Clark said, hustling her into his car. "What with specialization and all, doctors got so they were knowin' so little, askin' so much, chargin' so much. Here in Babylon, we found we don't really need 'em. Practically everybody in this town has been sick one way or another, and what with the way women like to talk about their operations, we've learned a lot about treatment. We don't need doctors any more. We just benefit by other people's experience."
"Experience?" None of this was real, Miriam was sure, but Clark had the authoritative air of a long-time parent, and she knew parents were always right.
"Why, yes. If you had chicken pox, and were out where everybody in town could see you, pretty soon somebody'd come along who had had it. They'd tell you what you had, and tell you what they did to get rid of it. Wouldn't even have to pay a doctor to write the prescription. Why, I used Silas Lapham's old nerve tonic on my wife when she had her bad spell. She's fine now; didn't cost us a cent except for the tonic. This way, if you're sick, we put you in the town square, and you stay there until somebody happens by who's had your symptoms; they you just try his cure. Usually works fine. If not, somebody else'll be by. Course, we can't let any of the sick folks leave the square until they're well; don't want anybody else catchin' it."
Babylonas folk, GA, har en liknande behandling för 18-åriga tjejer, som den som tillskrivs Herodotus till de forntida babylonierna:
"Momma, you have to go to this field, and sit there, and sit there until a man throws money in your lap. Then you have to go into the bushes and lie with a stranger!"
Det var i en samling noveller som publicerades i slutet av 60-talet eller början av 70-talet.
Antologin Apeman, Spaceman (Leon E. Stover och Harry Harrison , eds.) kom ut om rätt tidpunkt.