Jag letar efter titeln / författaren till en kort historia.
"Vackert, vackert, vackert!" av Stuart Friedman , först publicerad i Framtida Science Fiction Stories , mars 1952 , tillgänglig på Internetarkiv .
Historien börjar med en ung man som lever i en slags datorstyrd utopi, och han är väldigt upprörd eftersom datorn informerade honom att han inte lyckades nå spontan kärlekshändelse # 17 med kvinnlig # 632] (eller något liknande det här.)It was the eve of Progress-Stage Six, and the daily message had prescribed Stage Five Ecstasy Formula. Everyone, from 000 to 999, in Community Home 8051 for Pre-Mating Males in Progress-Stage Five, was experiencing the formula's balanced emotional heightening. Everyone, that is, except G17AZ(q):444,801,735 category male, known familiarly as 735. 735 stood in a small, mirrored, harshly-lighted meditation chamber, cut off from the goodness of the Community Mind. Under the plasti-skin contours of his perfect features he felt a flush of shame on his own imperfect face; he couldn't master the formula.
Han blir så upprörd vid hans misslyckande att han flyger utopiska staden han bor i och går ut i öknen.
Suddenly he was running. The violence of his motion left several of his fellows in a state of near collapse. He got out of the great hall, ran through the city. He reached the edge of the weather cone, paused, then rushed through. He stood in the raging downpour of the storm and shivered. He looked back at the indescribable magnificence of the world he had left, feeling like a pauper peering into a castle of yore. He burst out laughing.
Kall, våt och hungrig möter han en kvinna (som råkar vara kvinnlig # 632)
The female's scowl had vanished and she got to her feet and came to him.
"Who are you?" she said unpleasantly. She snuffed her nose and sneezed.
"I was once known to my fellows as 735, but—"
"Son and father of the gods!" She screeched offensively with laughter. "I'm 735, category female."
"My mate!" He shut his eyes and groaned. Then he peered narrowly at her. "She was beautiful; you're not she."
She was regarding him thoughtfully. "You're not he either; you look more like an ogre."
och de spenderar timmar som försöker misslyckas med att bygga en brand. Historien slutar med dem kall, våt och smutsig i en olycklig vildmark, men ecstatically glad att vara tillsammans.
Sort av. Kanske inte helt ekstatiskt:
And, so saying, they built a house that fell down, a fire that flooded out, and discovered they had both been wrong in not first seeking food. Half-starved, coughing, sneezing, foul-tempered, sour-faced, they set out through the rain.