l it be,
crepes suzette?"

She smiled across the table. "Mm," she considered the menu carefully. "I
think I'll stick to good old American apple pie and cheese."

"A genuine American small town girl, with small town likes and dislikes!
That's what you are underneath the glamour. Aren't you?"

She laughed and raised her champagne glass. "And this is from the
home-town vineyard too?"

George leaned towards her, his face a little flushed with the wine.
"Gloria, with your ability as an actress we could play the biggest
practical joke in the history of colorvision. If only I dared!"

"What's your idea, George?"

"I'm sick of all this pseudo-scientific nonsense about genetics," he
said, "and I'm even sicker of the crass commercialism and political
propaganda surrounding this Mother America business."

"George, you surprise me more and more! I thought you did this for the
money and publicity, to say nothing of the great honor."

"Stop kidding, Gloria! You know I was ordered to do it by the
Department. All I get is an expense account from Dee Lish Baby Foods.
The thing that really bothers me is the type of winner I have to pick."

"Have to pick? You have free choice, don't you?"

"Not really. The people who watch that program, from the President on
down, including our Director too, expect a sweet wholesome type ... you
know, curvy in the right places like a Miss America but wouldn't think
of posing in a bathing suit. They want an adolescent dream girl type,
the kind that goes well with a rose-covered cottage and four
rosy-cheeked kids all waiting for Daddy to come home."

"But most women work in America today."

"I know but the dream remains, along with the cowboy, the daring Air
Force pilot, the self-made business tycoon and all the other romantic
stereotypes of the first half of the century. She makes togetherness
seem right, and God knows we have so many people today we're together
whether we like it or not. So that's the type I have to pick."

"Where does the joke come in?"

"If you'd play the part of the American dream girl you'd win that
contest going away, like a four stage rocket booster."

"But I don't want to have a baby by remote control."

"You wouldn't have to. You can always withdraw before the impregnation
ceremony."

"Suppose I do it, what's the point?"

"Well for one thing, you'd show how easily people are fooled by
appearances and smart propaganda. As a geneticist I can only go so far
and