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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30045 ***
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+ _The climate was perfect, the sky was always
+ blue, and--best of all--nobody had to work.
+ What more could anyone want?_
+
+
+Planet of Dreams
+
+By James McKimmey, Jr.
+
+Illustrated by Paul Orban
+
+
+It was a small world, a tiny spinning globe, placed in the universe to
+weather and age by itself until the end of things. But because its air
+was good and its earth was fertile, Daniel Loveral had placed a finger
+upon a map and said, "This is the planet. This is the Dream Planet."
+
+That was two years before, back on Earth. And now Loveral with his
+selected flock had shot through space, to light like chuckling geese
+upon the planet, to feel the effect of their dreams come true.
+
+Loveral was sitting in his office, drumming his long fingers against his
+desk while the name, Atkinson, ticked through his brain like the sound
+of a sewing machine.
+
+Would he be the only one, Loveral asked himself, or was he just the
+first? In either case, it was up to Loveral, as leader and guiding hand,
+to stop this thing and stop it quickly.
+
+Loveral stood up and put on his jacket, although there was no need for
+it, other than the formality it gave his figure.
+
+He stepped out of his office into a clear bright day, where the air was
+clean and fresh in his lungs, at once like frost and fire and sweet
+perfume. He walked along a winding path, which was bordered by
+slim-necked flowers and a short hedge whose even clipped lines were kept
+neat by tireless robot hands.
+
+Trees pointed to a blue sky, rocking and fluttering their leaves in a
+soft breeze, and glinting metallic houses lay peacefully beyond in
+wooded hollows and upon slight hills.
+
+A whole small world was before his eyes, set there upon his direction,
+maintained by himself with the help of a dozen complex machines which
+lay locked and sealed in the Maintenance Room for only his fingers to
+touch.
+
+It was a busy life for Loveral, up at dawn to work until deep night,
+keeping his flock happy and free from spirit-killing labor. But it was a
+perfect plan, one which had been tested and turned in his mind for
+years. If he had to work hard to keep it running smoothly, that was all
+right. In fact, he had never been happier.
+
+Now, however, there was this business about Atkinson. Loveral was
+disturbed about that.
+
+He walked on, over the quiet path which would lead to the house where
+Atkinson and his wife lived. Loveral smiled, in readiness for any happy
+face that might appear before him, to greet him, to show with thankful
+eyes appreciation for his wonderful world. But that, too, brought
+thoughts that were a bit disturbing.
+
+Lately there had been few such faces. Most of his flock no longer seemed
+to care about walking along the cultivated paths, or smiling, or
+nodding, or touching a leaf here or a flower there. They preferred, it
+appeared, to remain deep inside their houses, as though they might have
+become tired of the soft perfection of Dream Planet. As though they
+might have become weary of quiet woods and sweet bird-music or a sky
+which was always blue.
+
+Loveral shook his head as he walked, puzzling out his thoughts. It was
+strange, but nothing to worry about certainly.
+
+Just this business about Atkinson. That was his only worry.
+
+He came slowly up a hill, the top of which held a low curving house,
+with a silver roof and wide, sweeping windows. There were yellow and
+blue and deep red flowers, skirting the sides of the house, and green
+ivy grew thickly between the glistening windows. The lawn, dotted with
+small leafy trees and round bushes, sloped down from the front of the
+house, looking like a carefully arranged painting.
+
+Loveral pressed a button beside a shining door and waited, smiling
+through his pale blue kindly eyes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. Atkinson appeared after several moments and stood blinking at him.
+She was a thin woman, who seemed to have gotten even thinner, Loveral
+noticed. She was working her fingers at the neck of her dress. She
+smiled but her lips wavered.
+
+"My dear," Loveral greeted her in his soft voice, showing the goodness
+in his eyes.
+
+She nodded her recognition, opening her mouth without speaking.
+
+"May I?" said Loveral finally, waving his long fingers toward the living
+room.
+
+"Oh, yes," said the woman. "Of course, Mr. Loveral." And as she spoke
+Loveral had the impression she might suddenly begin crying.
+
+Loveral followed the woman into the house, noticing all over again the
+precise way everything had been arranged. The rug was soft beneath his
+feet, and the light came in through the windows in such a way that it,
+too, became soft. The furniture, molded to hold a human body most
+comfortably, rested about the room in perfect efficiency.
+
+"Your place is so lovely," Loveral said, out of his old habit from
+Earth. But his words seemed to ring strangely in the quiet, because it
+was his own arrangement, like all the other rooms on the planet. And
+Mrs. Atkinson, standing thin and nervous before him, had nothing, after
+all, to do with it. The cleanliness was the work of his robot machines,
+the planning his own. It was like complimenting himself.
+
+He cleared his throat and stood, smiling his most benevolent smile to
+reassure Mrs. Atkinson.
+
+"Ah, my dear. Is George about?"
+
+Again, the woman's hand skittered to her throat.
+
+"He's not ill, surely?" Loveral asked, although this, too, was silly,
+because foods, selected and prepared for utmost nutrition, packed
+and frozen to be doled out in weekly quantities, purified air,
+disease-killing serums, simply written folders on exercise, and of
+course Loveral's own philosophies of quiet, peaceful living--all of this
+guarded well the health of Dream Planet's flock.
+
+The woman shook her head. "No, George is fine. He's just--sleeping, I
+think."
+
+"Rest is nature's finest tonic," said Loveral, and hearing his voice
+thought suddenly there was hardly anything he could say any more that
+might not sound a bit out of place in this peaceful world. Rest to the
+man who had nothing to do ceased to be a tonic.
+
+"Yes, yes," said Loveral. "May we just sit down, my dear?"
+
+Mrs. Atkinson jerked a hand toward one of the chairs and then wound her
+fingers.
+
+Loveral sat down and leaned back, smiling his most charming smile.
+"Perhaps George might awaken after a bit?"
+
+"Oh, yes," the woman said, her eyes flickering, and she sat upon the
+edge of one chair, like a bird perched upon a thin wire.
+
+Loveral waited, legs crossed, leaning his head back against the silken
+softness of the chair. It was so good to relax these days. The business
+of watching and of caring for his flock was trying. When you have
+brought an entire community of people at great expense through space,
+guaranteeing to give them a life of constant comfort and ease, so that
+they might dream and think as they wander through the flowers and the
+leaves, their thoughts cleansed of worry about work and responsibility,
+then you have a job. Loveral was most busy, busier than his heritage of
+wealth ever before had allowed, seeing to all of this.
+
+But he also was most content--with everything except Atkinson.
+
+Mrs. Atkinson teetered on the edge of her chair, as though she might at
+any moment go flying across the room in a crazy gyration. There was
+something about her eyes, Loveral noticed, while he peacefully nodded in
+the chair. Fear, perhaps.
+
+If so, he probably had been right. He tightened himself, listening.
+There it was again. The sound. Just as he had heard it a day before when
+he had passed near the house. He leaned forward quickly.
+
+Mrs. Atkinson jumped.
+
+Loveral smiled. "Didn't I hear a noise of some sort, my dear?"
+
+"Noise?" the woman said, as though her own voice were the sound of an
+echo.
+
+"An odd noise," Loveral said, his eyes searching.
+
+The woman's hands fluttered about her dress.
+
+Loveral stood up. "Would you mind if I just glanced about, my dear?"
+
+The woman didn't answer, but Loveral was already moving across the room
+toward a door. He opened it and walked down a hall. The noise grew
+stronger. He threw open another door.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He stood watching while George Atkinson spun around, dark eyes flashing,
+hair tousled. There was a two days' growth of beard darkening Atkinson's
+face.
+
+"Why, George," Loveral said, swiftly examining the litter of metal and
+wood which was spread over a table behind Atkinson. There was a
+home-made hammer in Atkinson's hand. "What have we here, George?"
+
+"Something for you," Atkinson said, tightening his fingers about the
+handle of the hammer.
+
+Loveral grinned his famous Loveral grin. "That's fine. What could it
+be?"
+
+"None of your damned business."
+
+"_George_," Loveral said, his smile still white but his eyes narrow and
+quick.
+
+The woman was behind them. Her voice screeched. "George, I told you. Why
+didn't you listen, George? You should have listened to me. You--"
+
+Loveral held up a hand, still watching Atkinson. "Now tell me, George,
+what is it you're making for me?"
+
+Atkinson raised the hammer slightly.
+
+Loveral stood very still. "That's a nice hammer, George."
+
+Atkinson's eyes were black beneath his thick brows.
+
+"You made that, didn't you?" Loveral asked.
+
+"Yes, I made that," Atkinson said. "I made that and I made something
+else. Another minute and I'll have that finished, too."
+
+"George," said Loveral, stepping quietly forward, "I don't like to say
+this, of course. You've been one of our very best members. But nobody
+works here, George. We can't allow that. You know the rules."
+
+"I know the rules, all right."
+
+"Well, then," Loveral said, extending his hand toward the hammer, "we'll
+just destroy this and whatever else you might have been making. We'll
+just forget it ever happened. We'll get along real fine that way,
+George. We'll just be such good friends."
+
+"We'll just go to hell," said Atkinson, snatching his hammer away.
+
+Loveral's smile disappeared. "I'll tell you, George. I have to mean
+business with this. You know the reasons. If we allow anybody to work
+here, then there's going to be trouble. That isn't our plan. We're here
+to grow within ourselves and expand culturally. Not to commercialize a
+beautiful world like Dream Planet."
+
+Atkinson stood unmoving, and Loveral could see the way the man's muscles
+were tight, like steel springs, and the way his eyes burned deep inside
+their blackness.
+
+"We've given you everything you need," Loveral explained, trying to
+adjust the smile on his lips again. "Everybody has everything they want.
+But, you see, if you sit there and work and make something that someone
+else doesn't have, then the whole system is destroyed. Then someone will
+want what you've made. We'll have jealousy and hatred and fighting. This
+is the stuff of which wars are made, George. You know that. It starts
+with small things like this, but it grows. When it does, the structure
+of our life here will collapse. You wouldn't want that, would you,
+George?"
+
+"Yes!" Atkinson said, his mouth white at the edges. "I'd like to see the
+whole rotten thing collapsed and blown to hell!"
+
+Loveral's teeth snapped together and his lips grew tight. He could feel
+a muscle jumping along his neck.
+
+Atkinson looked at him with furious eyes. "What do you think it's like,
+living this way? You're busy working twenty-four hours a day, while we
+wander around this damned prison like the breathing dead. You can feel
+sweat and aches in your bones from a hard day's work. Sleep is like
+medicine to you, instead of another stretch of torture. You can forget
+your own brain for a while by doing something with your hands. You can
+relax because you can get tired. Not us, by God. Not us!"
+
+"I envy you, George," Loveral said through his teeth.
+
+"Oh, like hell you do. You treat us like we were helpless infants. You
+feed and clothe us and do all our work, and you're so happy you damned
+near split your guts."
+
+"I'll take that, if you don't mind," Loveral said, reaching for the
+hammer, his voice suddenly icy cold.
+
+Atkinson slammed back against the table. "No, you won't. You won't take
+anything more at all. You've taken our spirit and our pride and the
+strength right out of our spines. You won't take anything more!"
+
+"George?" Loveral said, but not moving any further.
+
+Atkinson slid the hammer back of him onto the table, and his hands were
+searching among a dozen scattered pieces of metal and wood. He watched
+Loveral as he worked. "Let me show you what else I've made," he said.
+
+"I'd hate to do it," Loveral said, "but I can stop your food, your
+water, everything."
+
+Atkinson's hands moved swiftly, assembling the pieces. He nodded. "You
+can, but you won't."
+
+"I have the only keys to the storage units. I control everything,
+George."
+
+"Correction," said Atkinson, holding an assembled revolver in his hands.
+"You _did_."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Loveral looked at what Atkinson had in his hands. He blinked.
+
+"You're nearly dead," Atkinson said.
+
+Loveral looked at Atkinson, into his eyes. "If you wanted to kill me,
+you could have done it some other way."
+
+Atkinson shook his head. "Just this way. Just with something that took
+me dozens of days and nights to make. With something that made me sweat
+and swear to get. It was difficult--with no tools or proper
+materials--but that made it all the better. Now I've got it finished,"
+he said, pushing a bullet into the chamber, "and ready to use."
+
+Loveral stood frozen, then he turned. "My dear," he said to the woman
+who moved her mouth as though her voice had been pumped out of her. He
+reached to touch her shoulder. She recoiled, as though his fingers held
+poison. "George," he said, turning back to the black-eyed man.
+
+"This is a great moment," Atkinson said, lifting the muzzle of the
+revolver. "When I squeeze the trigger, it'll be like blowing the lock
+off a prison door. I'll go yelling to the others, and we'll smash down
+the whole goddamned place. We'll smash it down, so we'll have to rebuild
+it. We'll pull apart every robot you've got. We'll tear apart the food
+lockers and have a celebration for a week, and when we've gotten sick
+from too much food, we'll start growing some more with our own hands.
+We'll make forges for the men and looms for the women. We'll burn our
+clothes and make new ones. We'll grow corn in the fields. We'll pump
+water from the ground. You're finished, Loveral."
+
+Loveral stared at the revolver. "George," he said, pleading. "The plans.
+The beautiful, beautiful plans. All of you, you all wanted peace and
+contentment. Time to think and dream. You all wanted to get away from
+the work and the worry and the responsibility. You--"
+
+Atkinson fired the gun into Loveral's stomach.
+
+Loveral gestured at the air and fell to his knees. Atkinson threw his
+gun through a window and grabbed his wife by the hand. "Hurry!" he said,
+laughing. "Hurry!"
+
+Loveral felt of the blood on his shirt and rested on his knees. He could
+hear footsteps, racing through the house and out to the yard. He held
+out his bloody hand and looked at it. Atkinson's voice pealed through
+the warm clear air. "He's dead! Loveral's dead!"
+
+There was a sound of sudden activity, and everywhere went the cry,
+"Loveral's dead!"
+
+Loveral sank to his haunches and opened his lips. The blood was there,
+too. He could hear the shouts and the laughter, and then the tearing of
+steel, the smashing of glass. He bent over his knees, trembling with a
+sudden chill. The sound of destruction grew like thunder. "Why?" he said
+in his dying throat. "Oh, why? It was what they said they wanted."
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+    This etext was produced from _If Worlds of Science Fiction_
+    September 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
+    the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling
+    and typographical errors have been corrected without note.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Planet of Dreams, by James McKimmey
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30045 ***
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+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30045 ***</div>
+
+<div class="figl"><img src="images/001.png" width="353" height="550" alt="" title="" /></div>
+
+<div class="hd1"><p><big><i>The climate was perfect, the sky was always
+blue, and&mdash;best of all&mdash;nobody had to work.
+What more could anyone want?</i></big></p></div>
+
+<h1><span class="sp1">Planet of Dreams</span></h1>
+
+<h2>By James McKimmey, Jr.</h2>
+
+<p class="hd1">Illustrated by Paul Orban</p>
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">It was</span> a small world, a tiny
+spinning globe, placed in the
+universe to weather and age by itself
+until the end of things. But because
+its air was good and its earth
+was fertile, Daniel Loveral had
+placed a finger upon a map and
+said, "This is the planet. This is
+the Dream Planet."</p>
+
+<p>That was two years before, back
+on Earth. And now Loveral with
+his selected flock had shot through
+space, to light like chuckling geese
+upon the planet, to feel the effect
+of their dreams come true.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral was sitting in his office,
+drumming his long fingers against
+his desk while the name, Atkinson,
+ticked through his brain like the
+sound of a sewing machine.</p>
+
+<p>Would he be the only one, Loveral
+asked himself, or was he just
+the first? In either case, it was up
+to Loveral, as leader and guiding
+hand, to stop this thing and stop
+it quickly.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral stood up and put on his
+jacket, although there was no need
+for it, other than the formality it
+gave his figure.</p>
+
+<p>He stepped out of his office into a
+clear bright day, where the air was
+clean and fresh in his lungs, at
+once like frost and fire and sweet
+perfume. He walked along a winding
+path, which was bordered by
+slim-necked flowers and a short
+hedge whose even clipped lines
+were kept neat by tireless robot
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>Trees pointed to a blue sky,
+rocking and fluttering their leaves
+in a soft breeze, and glinting metallic
+houses lay peacefully beyond in
+wooded hollows and upon slight
+hills.</p>
+
+<p>A whole small world was before
+his eyes, set there upon his direction,
+maintained by himself with
+the help of a dozen complex machines
+which lay locked and sealed
+in the Maintenance Room for only
+his fingers to touch.</p>
+
+<p>It was a busy life for Loveral, up
+at dawn to work until deep night,
+keeping his flock happy and free
+from spirit-killing labor. But it was
+a perfect plan, one which had
+been tested and turned in his mind
+for years. If he had to work hard
+to keep it running smoothly, that
+was all right. In fact, he had never
+been happier.</p>
+
+<p>Now, however, there was this
+business about Atkinson. Loveral
+was disturbed about that.</p>
+
+<p>He walked on, over the quiet
+path which would lead to the
+house where Atkinson and his wife
+lived. Loveral smiled, in readiness
+for any happy face that might appear
+before him, to greet him, to
+show with thankful eyes appreciation
+for his wonderful world. But
+that, too, brought thoughts that
+were a bit disturbing.</p>
+
+<p>Lately there had been few such
+faces. Most of his flock no longer
+seemed to care about walking
+along the cultivated paths, or smiling,
+or nodding, or touching a leaf
+here or a flower there. They preferred,
+it appeared, to remain deep
+inside their houses, as though they
+might have become tired of the
+soft perfection of Dream Planet.
+As though they might have become
+weary of quiet woods and
+sweet bird-music or a sky which
+was always blue.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral shook his head as he
+walked, puzzling out his thoughts.
+It was strange, but nothing to
+worry about certainly.</p>
+
+<p>Just this business about Atkinson.
+That was his only worry.</p>
+
+<p>He came slowly up a hill, the top
+of which held a low curving house,
+with a silver roof and wide, sweeping
+windows. There were yellow
+and blue and deep red flowers,
+skirting the sides of the house, and
+green ivy grew thickly between the
+glistening windows. The lawn, dotted
+with small leafy trees and
+round bushes, sloped down from
+the front of the house, looking like
+a carefully arranged painting.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral pressed a button beside
+a shining door and waited, smiling
+through his pale blue kindly eyes.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Mrs. Atkinson</span> appeared
+after several moments and
+stood blinking at him. She was a
+thin woman, who seemed to have
+gotten even thinner, Loveral noticed.
+She was working her fingers
+at the neck of her dress. She smiled
+but her lips wavered.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear," Loveral greeted her
+in his soft voice, showing the
+goodness in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>She nodded her recognition,
+opening her mouth without speaking.</p>
+
+<p>"May I?" said Loveral finally,
+waving his long fingers toward the
+living room.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," said the woman. "Of
+course, Mr. Loveral." And as she
+spoke Loveral had the impression
+she might suddenly begin crying.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral followed the woman
+into the house, noticing all over
+again the precise way everything
+had been arranged. The rug was
+soft beneath his feet, and the light
+came in through the windows in
+such a way that it, too, became
+soft. The furniture, molded to hold
+a human body most comfortably,
+rested about the room in perfect
+efficiency.</p>
+
+<p>"Your place is so lovely," Loveral
+said, out of his old habit from
+Earth. But his words seemed to
+ring strangely in the quiet, because
+it was his own arrangement, like
+all the other rooms on the planet.
+And Mrs. Atkinson, standing thin
+and nervous before him, had nothing,
+after all, to do with it. The
+cleanliness was the work of his robot
+machines, the planning his own.
+It was like complimenting himself.</p>
+
+<p>He cleared his throat and stood,
+smiling his most benevolent smile
+to reassure Mrs. Atkinson.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, my dear. Is George about?"</p>
+
+<p>Again, the woman's hand skittered
+to her throat.</p>
+
+<p>"He's not ill, surely?" Loveral
+asked, although this, too, was silly,
+because foods, selected and prepared
+for utmost nutrition, packed
+and frozen to be doled out in weekly
+quantities, purified air, disease-killing
+serums, simply written folders
+on exercise, and of course Loveral's
+own philosophies of quiet,
+peaceful living&mdash;all of this guarded
+well the health of Dream Planet's
+flock.</p>
+
+<p>The woman shook her head.
+"No, George is fine. He's just&mdash;sleeping,
+I think."</p>
+
+<p>"Rest is nature's finest tonic,"
+said Loveral, and hearing his voice
+thought suddenly there was hardly
+anything he could say any more
+that might not sound a bit out of
+place in this peaceful world. Rest
+to the man who had nothing to do
+ceased to be a tonic.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," said Loveral. "May
+we just sit down, my dear?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Atkinson jerked a hand toward
+one of the chairs and then
+wound her fingers.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral sat down and leaned
+back, smiling his most charming
+smile. "Perhaps George might
+awaken after a bit?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," the woman said, her
+eyes flickering, and she sat upon
+the edge of one chair, like a bird
+perched upon a thin wire.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral waited, legs crossed,
+leaning his head back against the
+silken softness of the chair. It was
+so good to relax these days. The
+business of watching and of caring
+for his flock was trying. When you
+have brought an entire community
+of people at great expense through
+space, guaranteeing to give them a
+life of constant comfort and ease,
+so that they might dream and think
+as they wander through the flowers
+and the leaves, their thoughts
+cleansed of worry about work and
+responsibility, then you have a job.
+Loveral was most busy, busier than
+his heritage of wealth ever before
+had allowed, seeing to all of this.</p>
+
+<p>But he also was most content&mdash;with
+everything except Atkinson.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Atkinson teetered on the
+edge of her chair, as though she
+might at any moment go flying
+across the room in a crazy gyration.
+There was something about her
+eyes, Loveral noticed, while he
+peacefully nodded in the chair.
+Fear, perhaps.</p>
+
+<p>If so, he probably had been
+right. He tightened himself, listening.
+There it was again. The sound.
+Just as he had heard it a day before
+when he had passed near the
+house. He leaned forward quickly.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Atkinson jumped.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral smiled. "Didn't I hear a
+noise of some sort, my dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Noise?" the woman said, as
+though her own voice were the
+sound of an echo.</p>
+
+<p>"An odd noise," Loveral said,
+his eyes searching.</p>
+
+<p>The woman's hands fluttered
+about her dress.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral stood up. "Would you
+mind if I just glanced about, my
+dear?"</p>
+
+<p>The woman didn't answer, but
+Loveral was already moving across
+the room toward a door. He
+opened it and walked down a hall.
+The noise grew stronger. He threw
+open another door.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">He stood</span> watching while
+George Atkinson spun
+around, dark eyes flashing, hair
+tousled. There was a two days'
+growth of beard darkening Atkinson's
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, George," Loveral said,
+swiftly examining the litter of metal
+and wood which was spread
+over a table behind Atkinson.
+There was a home-made hammer
+in Atkinson's hand. "What have
+we here, George?"</p>
+
+<p>"Something for you," Atkinson
+said, tightening his fingers about
+the handle of the hammer.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral grinned his famous Loveral
+grin. "That's fine. What could
+it be?"</p>
+
+<p>"None of your damned business."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>George</i>," Loveral said, his smile
+still white but his eyes narrow
+and quick.</p>
+
+<p>The woman was behind them.
+Her voice screeched. "George, I
+told you. Why didn't you listen,
+George? You should have listened
+to me. You&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Loveral held up a hand, still
+watching Atkinson. "Now tell me,
+George, what is it you're making
+for me?"</p>
+
+<p>Atkinson raised the hammer
+slightly.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral stood very still. "That's
+a nice hammer, George."</p>
+
+<p>Atkinson's eyes were black beneath
+his thick brows.</p>
+
+<p>"You made that, didn't you?"
+Loveral asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I made that," Atkinson
+said. "I made that and I made
+something else. Another minute and
+I'll have that finished, too."</p>
+
+<p>"George," said Loveral, stepping
+quietly forward, "I don't like to say
+this, of course. You've been one of
+our very best members. But nobody
+works here, George. We can't allow
+that. You know the rules."</p>
+
+<p>"I know the rules, all right."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then," Loveral said, extending
+his hand toward the hammer,
+"we'll just destroy this and
+whatever else you might have been
+making. We'll just forget it ever
+happened. We'll get along real fine
+that way, George. We'll just be
+such good friends."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll just go to hell," said Atkinson,
+snatching his hammer
+away.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral's smile disappeared. "I'll
+tell you, George. I have to mean
+business with this. You know the
+reasons. If we allow anybody to
+work here, then there's going to be
+trouble. That isn't our plan. We're
+here to grow within ourselves and
+expand culturally. Not to commercialize
+a beautiful world like Dream
+Planet."</p>
+
+<p>Atkinson stood unmoving, and
+Loveral could see the way the
+man's muscles were tight, like steel
+springs, and the way his eyes
+burned deep inside their blackness.</p>
+
+<p>"We've given you everything you
+need," Loveral explained, trying to
+adjust the smile on his lips again.
+"Everybody has everything they
+want. But, you see, if you sit there
+and work and make something that
+someone else doesn't have, then the
+whole system is destroyed. Then
+someone will want what you've
+made. We'll have jealousy and
+hatred and fighting. This is the
+stuff of which wars are made,
+George. You know that. It starts
+with small things like this, but it
+grows. When it does, the structure
+of our life here will collapse. You
+wouldn't want that, would you,
+George?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes!" Atkinson said, his mouth
+white at the edges. "I'd like to see
+the whole rotten thing collapsed
+and blown to hell!"</p>
+
+<p>Loveral's teeth snapped together
+and his lips grew tight. He could
+feel a muscle jumping along his
+neck.</p>
+
+<p>Atkinson looked at him with furious
+eyes. "What do you think it's
+like, living this way? You're busy
+working twenty-four hours a day,
+while we wander around this
+damned prison like the breathing
+dead. You can feel sweat and aches
+in your bones from a hard day's
+work. Sleep is like medicine to you,
+instead of another stretch of torture.
+You can forget your own
+brain for a while by doing something
+with your hands. You can relax
+because you can get tired. Not
+us, by God. Not us!"</p>
+
+<p>"I envy you, George," Loveral
+said through his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, like hell you do. You treat
+us like we were helpless infants.
+You feed and clothe us and do all
+our work, and you're so happy you
+damned near split your guts."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll take that, if you don't
+mind," Loveral said, reaching for
+the hammer, his voice suddenly icy
+cold.</p>
+
+<p>Atkinson slammed back against
+the table. "No, you won't. You won't
+take anything more at all. You've
+taken our spirit and our pride and
+the strength right out of our spines.
+You won't take anything more!"</p>
+
+<p>"George?" Loveral said, but not
+moving any further.</p>
+
+<p>Atkinson slid the hammer back
+of him onto the table, and his hands
+were searching among a dozen scattered
+pieces of metal and wood. He
+watched Loveral as he worked.
+"Let me show you what else I've
+made," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd hate to do it," Loveral said,
+"but I can stop your food, your
+water, everything."</p>
+
+<p>Atkinson's hands moved swiftly,
+assembling the pieces. He nodded.
+"You can, but you won't."</p>
+
+<p>"I have the only keys to the storage
+units. I control everything,
+George."</p>
+
+<p>"Correction," said Atkinson,
+holding an assembled revolver in
+his hands. "You <i>did</i>."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Loveral</span> looked at what Atkinson
+had in his hands. He
+blinked.</p>
+
+<p>"You're nearly dead," Atkinson
+said.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral looked at Atkinson, into
+his eyes. "If you wanted to kill me,
+you could have done it some other
+way."</p>
+
+<p>Atkinson shook his head. "Just
+this way. Just with something that
+took me dozens of days and nights
+to make. With something that made
+me sweat and swear to get. It was
+difficult&mdash;with no tools or proper
+materials&mdash;but that made it all the
+better. Now I've got it finished,"
+he said, pushing a bullet into the
+chamber, "and ready to use."</p>
+
+<p>Loveral stood frozen, then he
+turned. "My dear," he said to the
+woman who moved her mouth as
+though her voice had been pumped
+out of her. He reached to touch
+her shoulder. She recoiled, as
+though his fingers held poison.
+"George," he said, turning back to
+the black-eyed man.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a great moment," Atkinson
+said, lifting the muzzle of
+the revolver. "When I squeeze the
+trigger, it'll be like blowing the lock
+off a prison door. I'll go yelling to
+the others, and we'll smash down
+the whole goddamned place. We'll
+smash it down, so we'll have to rebuild
+it. We'll pull apart every
+robot you've got. We'll tear apart
+the food lockers and have a celebration
+for a week, and when we've
+gotten sick from too much food,
+we'll start growing some more with
+our own hands. We'll make forges
+for the men and looms for the
+women. We'll burn our clothes
+and make new ones. We'll grow
+corn in the fields. We'll pump water
+from the ground. You're finished,
+Loveral."</p>
+
+<p>Loveral stared at the revolver.
+"George," he said, pleading. "The
+plans. The beautiful, beautiful
+plans. All of you, you all wanted
+peace and contentment. Time to
+think and dream. You all wanted
+to get away from the work and
+the worry and the responsibility.
+You&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Atkinson fired the gun into Loveral's
+stomach.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral gestured at the air and
+fell to his knees. Atkinson threw
+his gun through a window and
+grabbed his wife by the hand.
+"Hurry!" he said, laughing. "Hurry!"</p>
+
+<p>Loveral felt of the blood on his
+shirt and rested on his knees. He
+could hear footsteps, racing through
+the house and out to the yard. He
+held out his bloody hand and
+looked at it. Atkinson's voice pealed
+through the warm clear air. "He's
+dead! Loveral's dead!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a sound of sudden activity,
+and everywhere went the
+cry, "Loveral's dead!"</p>
+
+<p>Loveral sank to his haunches and
+opened his lips. The blood was
+there, too. He could hear the shouts
+and the laughter, and then the tearing
+of steel, the smashing of glass.
+He bent over his knees, trembling
+with a sudden chill. The sound of
+destruction grew like thunder.
+"Why?" he said in his dying throat.
+"Oh, why? It was what they said
+they wanted."</p>
+
+<p class="hd2">THE END</p>
+
+<div class="trn"><div class="figt"><a href="images/002-2.jpg"><img src="images/002-1.jpg" width="284" height="200" alt="" title="" /></a></div>
+
+<p><big><b>Transcriber's Note:</b></big></p>
+
+<p>This etext was produced from <i>If Worlds of Science Fiction</i> September 1953.
+Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
+typographical errors have been corrected without note.</p></div>
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30045 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Planet of Dreams, by James McKimmey
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Planet of Dreams
+
+Author: James McKimmey
+
+Illustrator: Paul Orban
+
+Release Date: September 20, 2009 [EBook #30045]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLANET OF DREAMS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+ _The climate was perfect, the sky was always
+ blue, and--best of all--nobody had to work.
+ What more could anyone want?_
+
+
+Planet of Dreams
+
+By James McKimmey, Jr.
+
+Illustrated by Paul Orban
+
+
+It was a small world, a tiny spinning globe, placed in the universe to
+weather and age by itself until the end of things. But because its air
+was good and its earth was fertile, Daniel Loveral had placed a finger
+upon a map and said, "This is the planet. This is the Dream Planet."
+
+That was two years before, back on Earth. And now Loveral with his
+selected flock had shot through space, to light like chuckling geese
+upon the planet, to feel the effect of their dreams come true.
+
+Loveral was sitting in his office, drumming his long fingers against his
+desk while the name, Atkinson, ticked through his brain like the sound
+of a sewing machine.
+
+Would he be the only one, Loveral asked himself, or was he just the
+first? In either case, it was up to Loveral, as leader and guiding hand,
+to stop this thing and stop it quickly.
+
+Loveral stood up and put on his jacket, although there was no need for
+it, other than the formality it gave his figure.
+
+He stepped out of his office into a clear bright day, where the air was
+clean and fresh in his lungs, at once like frost and fire and sweet
+perfume. He walked along a winding path, which was bordered by
+slim-necked flowers and a short hedge whose even clipped lines were kept
+neat by tireless robot hands.
+
+Trees pointed to a blue sky, rocking and fluttering their leaves in a
+soft breeze, and glinting metallic houses lay peacefully beyond in
+wooded hollows and upon slight hills.
+
+A whole small world was before his eyes, set there upon his direction,
+maintained by himself with the help of a dozen complex machines which
+lay locked and sealed in the Maintenance Room for only his fingers to
+touch.
+
+It was a busy life for Loveral, up at dawn to work until deep night,
+keeping his flock happy and free from spirit-killing labor. But it was a
+perfect plan, one which had been tested and turned in his mind for
+years. If he had to work hard to keep it running smoothly, that was all
+right. In fact, he had never been happier.
+
+Now, however, there was this business about Atkinson. Loveral was
+disturbed about that.
+
+He walked on, over the quiet path which would lead to the house where
+Atkinson and his wife lived. Loveral smiled, in readiness for any happy
+face that might appear before him, to greet him, to show with thankful
+eyes appreciation for his wonderful world. But that, too, brought
+thoughts that were a bit disturbing.
+
+Lately there had been few such faces. Most of his flock no longer seemed
+to care about walking along the cultivated paths, or smiling, or
+nodding, or touching a leaf here or a flower there. They preferred, it
+appeared, to remain deep inside their houses, as though they might have
+become tired of the soft perfection of Dream Planet. As though they
+might have become weary of quiet woods and sweet bird-music or a sky
+which was always blue.
+
+Loveral shook his head as he walked, puzzling out his thoughts. It was
+strange, but nothing to worry about certainly.
+
+Just this business about Atkinson. That was his only worry.
+
+He came slowly up a hill, the top of which held a low curving house,
+with a silver roof and wide, sweeping windows. There were yellow and
+blue and deep red flowers, skirting the sides of the house, and green
+ivy grew thickly between the glistening windows. The lawn, dotted with
+small leafy trees and round bushes, sloped down from the front of the
+house, looking like a carefully arranged painting.
+
+Loveral pressed a button beside a shining door and waited, smiling
+through his pale blue kindly eyes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. Atkinson appeared after several moments and stood blinking at him.
+She was a thin woman, who seemed to have gotten even thinner, Loveral
+noticed. She was working her fingers at the neck of her dress. She
+smiled but her lips wavered.
+
+"My dear," Loveral greeted her in his soft voice, showing the goodness
+in his eyes.
+
+She nodded her recognition, opening her mouth without speaking.
+
+"May I?" said Loveral finally, waving his long fingers toward the living
+room.
+
+"Oh, yes," said the woman. "Of course, Mr. Loveral." And as she spoke
+Loveral had the impression she might suddenly begin crying.
+
+Loveral followed the woman into the house, noticing all over again the
+precise way everything had been arranged. The rug was soft beneath his
+feet, and the light came in through the windows in such a way that it,
+too, became soft. The furniture, molded to hold a human body most
+comfortably, rested about the room in perfect efficiency.
+
+"Your place is so lovely," Loveral said, out of his old habit from
+Earth. But his words seemed to ring strangely in the quiet, because it
+was his own arrangement, like all the other rooms on the planet. And
+Mrs. Atkinson, standing thin and nervous before him, had nothing, after
+all, to do with it. The cleanliness was the work of his robot machines,
+the planning his own. It was like complimenting himself.
+
+He cleared his throat and stood, smiling his most benevolent smile to
+reassure Mrs. Atkinson.
+
+"Ah, my dear. Is George about?"
+
+Again, the woman's hand skittered to her throat.
+
+"He's not ill, surely?" Loveral asked, although this, too, was silly,
+because foods, selected and prepared for utmost nutrition, packed
+and frozen to be doled out in weekly quantities, purified air,
+disease-killing serums, simply written folders on exercise, and of
+course Loveral's own philosophies of quiet, peaceful living--all of this
+guarded well the health of Dream Planet's flock.
+
+The woman shook her head. "No, George is fine. He's just--sleeping, I
+think."
+
+"Rest is nature's finest tonic," said Loveral, and hearing his voice
+thought suddenly there was hardly anything he could say any more that
+might not sound a bit out of place in this peaceful world. Rest to the
+man who had nothing to do ceased to be a tonic.
+
+"Yes, yes," said Loveral. "May we just sit down, my dear?"
+
+Mrs. Atkinson jerked a hand toward one of the chairs and then wound her
+fingers.
+
+Loveral sat down and leaned back, smiling his most charming smile.
+"Perhaps George might awaken after a bit?"
+
+"Oh, yes," the woman said, her eyes flickering, and she sat upon the
+edge of one chair, like a bird perched upon a thin wire.
+
+Loveral waited, legs crossed, leaning his head back against the silken
+softness of the chair. It was so good to relax these days. The business
+of watching and of caring for his flock was trying. When you have
+brought an entire community of people at great expense through space,
+guaranteeing to give them a life of constant comfort and ease, so that
+they might dream and think as they wander through the flowers and the
+leaves, their thoughts cleansed of worry about work and responsibility,
+then you have a job. Loveral was most busy, busier than his heritage of
+wealth ever before had allowed, seeing to all of this.
+
+But he also was most content--with everything except Atkinson.
+
+Mrs. Atkinson teetered on the edge of her chair, as though she might at
+any moment go flying across the room in a crazy gyration. There was
+something about her eyes, Loveral noticed, while he peacefully nodded in
+the chair. Fear, perhaps.
+
+If so, he probably had been right. He tightened himself, listening.
+There it was again. The sound. Just as he had heard it a day before when
+he had passed near the house. He leaned forward quickly.
+
+Mrs. Atkinson jumped.
+
+Loveral smiled. "Didn't I hear a noise of some sort, my dear?"
+
+"Noise?" the woman said, as though her own voice were the sound of an
+echo.
+
+"An odd noise," Loveral said, his eyes searching.
+
+The woman's hands fluttered about her dress.
+
+Loveral stood up. "Would you mind if I just glanced about, my dear?"
+
+The woman didn't answer, but Loveral was already moving across the room
+toward a door. He opened it and walked down a hall. The noise grew
+stronger. He threw open another door.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He stood watching while George Atkinson spun around, dark eyes flashing,
+hair tousled. There was a two days' growth of beard darkening Atkinson's
+face.
+
+"Why, George," Loveral said, swiftly examining the litter of metal and
+wood which was spread over a table behind Atkinson. There was a
+home-made hammer in Atkinson's hand. "What have we here, George?"
+
+"Something for you," Atkinson said, tightening his fingers about the
+handle of the hammer.
+
+Loveral grinned his famous Loveral grin. "That's fine. What could it
+be?"
+
+"None of your damned business."
+
+"_George_," Loveral said, his smile still white but his eyes narrow and
+quick.
+
+The woman was behind them. Her voice screeched. "George, I told you. Why
+didn't you listen, George? You should have listened to me. You--"
+
+Loveral held up a hand, still watching Atkinson. "Now tell me, George,
+what is it you're making for me?"
+
+Atkinson raised the hammer slightly.
+
+Loveral stood very still. "That's a nice hammer, George."
+
+Atkinson's eyes were black beneath his thick brows.
+
+"You made that, didn't you?" Loveral asked.
+
+"Yes, I made that," Atkinson said. "I made that and I made something
+else. Another minute and I'll have that finished, too."
+
+"George," said Loveral, stepping quietly forward, "I don't like to say
+this, of course. You've been one of our very best members. But nobody
+works here, George. We can't allow that. You know the rules."
+
+"I know the rules, all right."
+
+"Well, then," Loveral said, extending his hand toward the hammer, "we'll
+just destroy this and whatever else you might have been making. We'll
+just forget it ever happened. We'll get along real fine that way,
+George. We'll just be such good friends."
+
+"We'll just go to hell," said Atkinson, snatching his hammer away.
+
+Loveral's smile disappeared. "I'll tell you, George. I have to mean
+business with this. You know the reasons. If we allow anybody to work
+here, then there's going to be trouble. That isn't our plan. We're here
+to grow within ourselves and expand culturally. Not to commercialize a
+beautiful world like Dream Planet."
+
+Atkinson stood unmoving, and Loveral could see the way the man's muscles
+were tight, like steel springs, and the way his eyes burned deep inside
+their blackness.
+
+"We've given you everything you need," Loveral explained, trying to
+adjust the smile on his lips again. "Everybody has everything they want.
+But, you see, if you sit there and work and make something that someone
+else doesn't have, then the whole system is destroyed. Then someone will
+want what you've made. We'll have jealousy and hatred and fighting. This
+is the stuff of which wars are made, George. You know that. It starts
+with small things like this, but it grows. When it does, the structure
+of our life here will collapse. You wouldn't want that, would you,
+George?"
+
+"Yes!" Atkinson said, his mouth white at the edges. "I'd like to see the
+whole rotten thing collapsed and blown to hell!"
+
+Loveral's teeth snapped together and his lips grew tight. He could feel
+a muscle jumping along his neck.
+
+Atkinson looked at him with furious eyes. "What do you think it's like,
+living this way? You're busy working twenty-four hours a day, while we
+wander around this damned prison like the breathing dead. You can feel
+sweat and aches in your bones from a hard day's work. Sleep is like
+medicine to you, instead of another stretch of torture. You can forget
+your own brain for a while by doing something with your hands. You can
+relax because you can get tired. Not us, by God. Not us!"
+
+"I envy you, George," Loveral said through his teeth.
+
+"Oh, like hell you do. You treat us like we were helpless infants. You
+feed and clothe us and do all our work, and you're so happy you damned
+near split your guts."
+
+"I'll take that, if you don't mind," Loveral said, reaching for the
+hammer, his voice suddenly icy cold.
+
+Atkinson slammed back against the table. "No, you won't. You won't take
+anything more at all. You've taken our spirit and our pride and the
+strength right out of our spines. You won't take anything more!"
+
+"George?" Loveral said, but not moving any further.
+
+Atkinson slid the hammer back of him onto the table, and his hands were
+searching among a dozen scattered pieces of metal and wood. He watched
+Loveral as he worked. "Let me show you what else I've made," he said.
+
+"I'd hate to do it," Loveral said, "but I can stop your food, your
+water, everything."
+
+Atkinson's hands moved swiftly, assembling the pieces. He nodded. "You
+can, but you won't."
+
+"I have the only keys to the storage units. I control everything,
+George."
+
+"Correction," said Atkinson, holding an assembled revolver in his hands.
+"You _did_."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Loveral looked at what Atkinson had in his hands. He blinked.
+
+"You're nearly dead," Atkinson said.
+
+Loveral looked at Atkinson, into his eyes. "If you wanted to kill me,
+you could have done it some other way."
+
+Atkinson shook his head. "Just this way. Just with something that took
+me dozens of days and nights to make. With something that made me sweat
+and swear to get. It was difficult--with no tools or proper
+materials--but that made it all the better. Now I've got it finished,"
+he said, pushing a bullet into the chamber, "and ready to use."
+
+Loveral stood frozen, then he turned. "My dear," he said to the woman
+who moved her mouth as though her voice had been pumped out of her. He
+reached to touch her shoulder. She recoiled, as though his fingers held
+poison. "George," he said, turning back to the black-eyed man.
+
+"This is a great moment," Atkinson said, lifting the muzzle of the
+revolver. "When I squeeze the trigger, it'll be like blowing the lock
+off a prison door. I'll go yelling to the others, and we'll smash down
+the whole goddamned place. We'll smash it down, so we'll have to rebuild
+it. We'll pull apart every robot you've got. We'll tear apart the food
+lockers and have a celebration for a week, and when we've gotten sick
+from too much food, we'll start growing some more with our own hands.
+We'll make forges for the men and looms for the women. We'll burn our
+clothes and make new ones. We'll grow corn in the fields. We'll pump
+water from the ground. You're finished, Loveral."
+
+Loveral stared at the revolver. "George," he said, pleading. "The plans.
+The beautiful, beautiful plans. All of you, you all wanted peace and
+contentment. Time to think and dream. You all wanted to get away from
+the work and the worry and the responsibility. You--"
+
+Atkinson fired the gun into Loveral's stomach.
+
+Loveral gestured at the air and fell to his knees. Atkinson threw his
+gun through a window and grabbed his wife by the hand. "Hurry!" he said,
+laughing. "Hurry!"
+
+Loveral felt of the blood on his shirt and rested on his knees. He could
+hear footsteps, racing through the house and out to the yard. He held
+out his bloody hand and looked at it. Atkinson's voice pealed through
+the warm clear air. "He's dead! Loveral's dead!"
+
+There was a sound of sudden activity, and everywhere went the cry,
+"Loveral's dead!"
+
+Loveral sank to his haunches and opened his lips. The blood was there,
+too. He could hear the shouts and the laughter, and then the tearing of
+steel, the smashing of glass. He bent over his knees, trembling with a
+sudden chill. The sound of destruction grew like thunder. "Why?" he said
+in his dying throat. "Oh, why? It was what they said they wanted."
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+    This etext was produced from _If Worlds of Science Fiction_
+    September 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
+    the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling
+    and typographical errors have been corrected without note.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Planet of Dreams, by James McKimmey
+
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+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
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+    </title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Planet of Dreams, by James McKimmey
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Planet of Dreams
+
+Author: James McKimmey
+
+Illustrator: Paul Orban
+
+Release Date: September 20, 2009 [EBook #30045]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLANET OF DREAMS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="figl"><img src="images/001.png" width="353" height="550" alt="" title="" /></div>
+
+<div class="hd1"><p><big><i>The climate was perfect, the sky was always
+blue, and&mdash;best of all&mdash;nobody had to work.
+What more could anyone want?</i></big></p></div>
+
+<h1><span class="sp1">Planet of Dreams</span></h1>
+
+<h2>By James McKimmey, Jr.</h2>
+
+<p class="hd1">Illustrated by Paul Orban</p>
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">It was</span> a small world, a tiny
+spinning globe, placed in the
+universe to weather and age by itself
+until the end of things. But because
+its air was good and its earth
+was fertile, Daniel Loveral had
+placed a finger upon a map and
+said, "This is the planet. This is
+the Dream Planet."</p>
+
+<p>That was two years before, back
+on Earth. And now Loveral with
+his selected flock had shot through
+space, to light like chuckling geese
+upon the planet, to feel the effect
+of their dreams come true.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral was sitting in his office,
+drumming his long fingers against
+his desk while the name, Atkinson,
+ticked through his brain like the
+sound of a sewing machine.</p>
+
+<p>Would he be the only one, Loveral
+asked himself, or was he just
+the first? In either case, it was up
+to Loveral, as leader and guiding
+hand, to stop this thing and stop
+it quickly.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral stood up and put on his
+jacket, although there was no need
+for it, other than the formality it
+gave his figure.</p>
+
+<p>He stepped out of his office into a
+clear bright day, where the air was
+clean and fresh in his lungs, at
+once like frost and fire and sweet
+perfume. He walked along a winding
+path, which was bordered by
+slim-necked flowers and a short
+hedge whose even clipped lines
+were kept neat by tireless robot
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>Trees pointed to a blue sky,
+rocking and fluttering their leaves
+in a soft breeze, and glinting metallic
+houses lay peacefully beyond in
+wooded hollows and upon slight
+hills.</p>
+
+<p>A whole small world was before
+his eyes, set there upon his direction,
+maintained by himself with
+the help of a dozen complex machines
+which lay locked and sealed
+in the Maintenance Room for only
+his fingers to touch.</p>
+
+<p>It was a busy life for Loveral, up
+at dawn to work until deep night,
+keeping his flock happy and free
+from spirit-killing labor. But it was
+a perfect plan, one which had
+been tested and turned in his mind
+for years. If he had to work hard
+to keep it running smoothly, that
+was all right. In fact, he had never
+been happier.</p>
+
+<p>Now, however, there was this
+business about Atkinson. Loveral
+was disturbed about that.</p>
+
+<p>He walked on, over the quiet
+path which would lead to the
+house where Atkinson and his wife
+lived. Loveral smiled, in readiness
+for any happy face that might appear
+before him, to greet him, to
+show with thankful eyes appreciation
+for his wonderful world. But
+that, too, brought thoughts that
+were a bit disturbing.</p>
+
+<p>Lately there had been few such
+faces. Most of his flock no longer
+seemed to care about walking
+along the cultivated paths, or smiling,
+or nodding, or touching a leaf
+here or a flower there. They preferred,
+it appeared, to remain deep
+inside their houses, as though they
+might have become tired of the
+soft perfection of Dream Planet.
+As though they might have become
+weary of quiet woods and
+sweet bird-music or a sky which
+was always blue.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral shook his head as he
+walked, puzzling out his thoughts.
+It was strange, but nothing to
+worry about certainly.</p>
+
+<p>Just this business about Atkinson.
+That was his only worry.</p>
+
+<p>He came slowly up a hill, the top
+of which held a low curving house,
+with a silver roof and wide, sweeping
+windows. There were yellow
+and blue and deep red flowers,
+skirting the sides of the house, and
+green ivy grew thickly between the
+glistening windows. The lawn, dotted
+with small leafy trees and
+round bushes, sloped down from
+the front of the house, looking like
+a carefully arranged painting.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral pressed a button beside
+a shining door and waited, smiling
+through his pale blue kindly eyes.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Mrs. Atkinson</span> appeared
+after several moments and
+stood blinking at him. She was a
+thin woman, who seemed to have
+gotten even thinner, Loveral noticed.
+She was working her fingers
+at the neck of her dress. She smiled
+but her lips wavered.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear," Loveral greeted her
+in his soft voice, showing the
+goodness in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>She nodded her recognition,
+opening her mouth without speaking.</p>
+
+<p>"May I?" said Loveral finally,
+waving his long fingers toward the
+living room.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," said the woman. "Of
+course, Mr. Loveral." And as she
+spoke Loveral had the impression
+she might suddenly begin crying.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral followed the woman
+into the house, noticing all over
+again the precise way everything
+had been arranged. The rug was
+soft beneath his feet, and the light
+came in through the windows in
+such a way that it, too, became
+soft. The furniture, molded to hold
+a human body most comfortably,
+rested about the room in perfect
+efficiency.</p>
+
+<p>"Your place is so lovely," Loveral
+said, out of his old habit from
+Earth. But his words seemed to
+ring strangely in the quiet, because
+it was his own arrangement, like
+all the other rooms on the planet.
+And Mrs. Atkinson, standing thin
+and nervous before him, had nothing,
+after all, to do with it. The
+cleanliness was the work of his robot
+machines, the planning his own.
+It was like complimenting himself.</p>
+
+<p>He cleared his throat and stood,
+smiling his most benevolent smile
+to reassure Mrs. Atkinson.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, my dear. Is George about?"</p>
+
+<p>Again, the woman's hand skittered
+to her throat.</p>
+
+<p>"He's not ill, surely?" Loveral
+asked, although this, too, was silly,
+because foods, selected and prepared
+for utmost nutrition, packed
+and frozen to be doled out in weekly
+quantities, purified air, disease-killing
+serums, simply written folders
+on exercise, and of course Loveral's
+own philosophies of quiet,
+peaceful living&mdash;all of this guarded
+well the health of Dream Planet's
+flock.</p>
+
+<p>The woman shook her head.
+"No, George is fine. He's just&mdash;sleeping,
+I think."</p>
+
+<p>"Rest is nature's finest tonic,"
+said Loveral, and hearing his voice
+thought suddenly there was hardly
+anything he could say any more
+that might not sound a bit out of
+place in this peaceful world. Rest
+to the man who had nothing to do
+ceased to be a tonic.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," said Loveral. "May
+we just sit down, my dear?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Atkinson jerked a hand toward
+one of the chairs and then
+wound her fingers.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral sat down and leaned
+back, smiling his most charming
+smile. "Perhaps George might
+awaken after a bit?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," the woman said, her
+eyes flickering, and she sat upon
+the edge of one chair, like a bird
+perched upon a thin wire.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral waited, legs crossed,
+leaning his head back against the
+silken softness of the chair. It was
+so good to relax these days. The
+business of watching and of caring
+for his flock was trying. When you
+have brought an entire community
+of people at great expense through
+space, guaranteeing to give them a
+life of constant comfort and ease,
+so that they might dream and think
+as they wander through the flowers
+and the leaves, their thoughts
+cleansed of worry about work and
+responsibility, then you have a job.
+Loveral was most busy, busier than
+his heritage of wealth ever before
+had allowed, seeing to all of this.</p>
+
+<p>But he also was most content&mdash;with
+everything except Atkinson.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Atkinson teetered on the
+edge of her chair, as though she
+might at any moment go flying
+across the room in a crazy gyration.
+There was something about her
+eyes, Loveral noticed, while he
+peacefully nodded in the chair.
+Fear, perhaps.</p>
+
+<p>If so, he probably had been
+right. He tightened himself, listening.
+There it was again. The sound.
+Just as he had heard it a day before
+when he had passed near the
+house. He leaned forward quickly.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Atkinson jumped.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral smiled. "Didn't I hear a
+noise of some sort, my dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Noise?" the woman said, as
+though her own voice were the
+sound of an echo.</p>
+
+<p>"An odd noise," Loveral said,
+his eyes searching.</p>
+
+<p>The woman's hands fluttered
+about her dress.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral stood up. "Would you
+mind if I just glanced about, my
+dear?"</p>
+
+<p>The woman didn't answer, but
+Loveral was already moving across
+the room toward a door. He
+opened it and walked down a hall.
+The noise grew stronger. He threw
+open another door.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">He stood</span> watching while
+George Atkinson spun
+around, dark eyes flashing, hair
+tousled. There was a two days'
+growth of beard darkening Atkinson's
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, George," Loveral said,
+swiftly examining the litter of metal
+and wood which was spread
+over a table behind Atkinson.
+There was a home-made hammer
+in Atkinson's hand. "What have
+we here, George?"</p>
+
+<p>"Something for you," Atkinson
+said, tightening his fingers about
+the handle of the hammer.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral grinned his famous Loveral
+grin. "That's fine. What could
+it be?"</p>
+
+<p>"None of your damned business."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>George</i>," Loveral said, his smile
+still white but his eyes narrow
+and quick.</p>
+
+<p>The woman was behind them.
+Her voice screeched. "George, I
+told you. Why didn't you listen,
+George? You should have listened
+to me. You&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Loveral held up a hand, still
+watching Atkinson. "Now tell me,
+George, what is it you're making
+for me?"</p>
+
+<p>Atkinson raised the hammer
+slightly.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral stood very still. "That's
+a nice hammer, George."</p>
+
+<p>Atkinson's eyes were black beneath
+his thick brows.</p>
+
+<p>"You made that, didn't you?"
+Loveral asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I made that," Atkinson
+said. "I made that and I made
+something else. Another minute and
+I'll have that finished, too."</p>
+
+<p>"George," said Loveral, stepping
+quietly forward, "I don't like to say
+this, of course. You've been one of
+our very best members. But nobody
+works here, George. We can't allow
+that. You know the rules."</p>
+
+<p>"I know the rules, all right."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then," Loveral said, extending
+his hand toward the hammer,
+"we'll just destroy this and
+whatever else you might have been
+making. We'll just forget it ever
+happened. We'll get along real fine
+that way, George. We'll just be
+such good friends."</p>
+
+<p>"We'll just go to hell," said Atkinson,
+snatching his hammer
+away.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral's smile disappeared. "I'll
+tell you, George. I have to mean
+business with this. You know the
+reasons. If we allow anybody to
+work here, then there's going to be
+trouble. That isn't our plan. We're
+here to grow within ourselves and
+expand culturally. Not to commercialize
+a beautiful world like Dream
+Planet."</p>
+
+<p>Atkinson stood unmoving, and
+Loveral could see the way the
+man's muscles were tight, like steel
+springs, and the way his eyes
+burned deep inside their blackness.</p>
+
+<p>"We've given you everything you
+need," Loveral explained, trying to
+adjust the smile on his lips again.
+"Everybody has everything they
+want. But, you see, if you sit there
+and work and make something that
+someone else doesn't have, then the
+whole system is destroyed. Then
+someone will want what you've
+made. We'll have jealousy and
+hatred and fighting. This is the
+stuff of which wars are made,
+George. You know that. It starts
+with small things like this, but it
+grows. When it does, the structure
+of our life here will collapse. You
+wouldn't want that, would you,
+George?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes!" Atkinson said, his mouth
+white at the edges. "I'd like to see
+the whole rotten thing collapsed
+and blown to hell!"</p>
+
+<p>Loveral's teeth snapped together
+and his lips grew tight. He could
+feel a muscle jumping along his
+neck.</p>
+
+<p>Atkinson looked at him with furious
+eyes. "What do you think it's
+like, living this way? You're busy
+working twenty-four hours a day,
+while we wander around this
+damned prison like the breathing
+dead. You can feel sweat and aches
+in your bones from a hard day's
+work. Sleep is like medicine to you,
+instead of another stretch of torture.
+You can forget your own
+brain for a while by doing something
+with your hands. You can relax
+because you can get tired. Not
+us, by God. Not us!"</p>
+
+<p>"I envy you, George," Loveral
+said through his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, like hell you do. You treat
+us like we were helpless infants.
+You feed and clothe us and do all
+our work, and you're so happy you
+damned near split your guts."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll take that, if you don't
+mind," Loveral said, reaching for
+the hammer, his voice suddenly icy
+cold.</p>
+
+<p>Atkinson slammed back against
+the table. "No, you won't. You won't
+take anything more at all. You've
+taken our spirit and our pride and
+the strength right out of our spines.
+You won't take anything more!"</p>
+
+<p>"George?" Loveral said, but not
+moving any further.</p>
+
+<p>Atkinson slid the hammer back
+of him onto the table, and his hands
+were searching among a dozen scattered
+pieces of metal and wood. He
+watched Loveral as he worked.
+"Let me show you what else I've
+made," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd hate to do it," Loveral said,
+"but I can stop your food, your
+water, everything."</p>
+
+<p>Atkinson's hands moved swiftly,
+assembling the pieces. He nodded.
+"You can, but you won't."</p>
+
+<p>"I have the only keys to the storage
+units. I control everything,
+George."</p>
+
+<p>"Correction," said Atkinson,
+holding an assembled revolver in
+his hands. "You <i>did</i>."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Loveral</span> looked at what Atkinson
+had in his hands. He
+blinked.</p>
+
+<p>"You're nearly dead," Atkinson
+said.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral looked at Atkinson, into
+his eyes. "If you wanted to kill me,
+you could have done it some other
+way."</p>
+
+<p>Atkinson shook his head. "Just
+this way. Just with something that
+took me dozens of days and nights
+to make. With something that made
+me sweat and swear to get. It was
+difficult&mdash;with no tools or proper
+materials&mdash;but that made it all the
+better. Now I've got it finished,"
+he said, pushing a bullet into the
+chamber, "and ready to use."</p>
+
+<p>Loveral stood frozen, then he
+turned. "My dear," he said to the
+woman who moved her mouth as
+though her voice had been pumped
+out of her. He reached to touch
+her shoulder. She recoiled, as
+though his fingers held poison.
+"George," he said, turning back to
+the black-eyed man.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a great moment," Atkinson
+said, lifting the muzzle of
+the revolver. "When I squeeze the
+trigger, it'll be like blowing the lock
+off a prison door. I'll go yelling to
+the others, and we'll smash down
+the whole goddamned place. We'll
+smash it down, so we'll have to rebuild
+it. We'll pull apart every
+robot you've got. We'll tear apart
+the food lockers and have a celebration
+for a week, and when we've
+gotten sick from too much food,
+we'll start growing some more with
+our own hands. We'll make forges
+for the men and looms for the
+women. We'll burn our clothes
+and make new ones. We'll grow
+corn in the fields. We'll pump water
+from the ground. You're finished,
+Loveral."</p>
+
+<p>Loveral stared at the revolver.
+"George," he said, pleading. "The
+plans. The beautiful, beautiful
+plans. All of you, you all wanted
+peace and contentment. Time to
+think and dream. You all wanted
+to get away from the work and
+the worry and the responsibility.
+You&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Atkinson fired the gun into Loveral's
+stomach.</p>
+
+<p>Loveral gestured at the air and
+fell to his knees. Atkinson threw
+his gun through a window and
+grabbed his wife by the hand.
+"Hurry!" he said, laughing. "Hurry!"</p>
+
+<p>Loveral felt of the blood on his
+shirt and rested on his knees. He
+could hear footsteps, racing through
+the house and out to the yard. He
+held out his bloody hand and
+looked at it. Atkinson's voice pealed
+through the warm clear air. "He's
+dead! Loveral's dead!"</p>
+
+<p>There was a sound of sudden activity,
+and everywhere went the
+cry, "Loveral's dead!"</p>
+
+<p>Loveral sank to his haunches and
+opened his lips. The blood was
+there, too. He could hear the shouts
+and the laughter, and then the tearing
+of steel, the smashing of glass.
+He bent over his knees, trembling
+with a sudden chill. The sound of
+destruction grew like thunder.
+"Why?" he said in his dying throat.
+"Oh, why? It was what they said
+they wanted."</p>
+
+<p class="hd2">THE END</p>
+
+<div class="trn"><div class="figt"><a href="images/002-2.jpg"><img src="images/002-1.jpg" width="284" height="200" alt="" title="" /></a></div>
+
+<p><big><b>Transcriber's Note:</b></big></p>
+
+<p>This etext was produced from <i>If Worlds of Science Fiction</i> September 1953.
+Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
+copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
+typographical errors have been corrected without note.</p></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Planet of Dreams, by James McKimmey
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Planet of Dreams, by James McKimmey
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Planet of Dreams
+
+Author: James McKimmey
+
+Illustrator: Paul Orban
+
+Release Date: September 20, 2009 [EBook #30045]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLANET OF DREAMS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+ _The climate was perfect, the sky was always
+ blue, and--best of all--nobody had to work.
+ What more could anyone want?_
+
+
+Planet of Dreams
+
+By James McKimmey, Jr.
+
+Illustrated by Paul Orban
+
+
+It was a small world, a tiny spinning globe, placed in the universe to
+weather and age by itself until the end of things. But because its air
+was good and its earth was fertile, Daniel Loveral had placed a finger
+upon a map and said, "This is the planet. This is the Dream Planet."
+
+That was two years before, back on Earth. And now Loveral with his
+selected flock had shot through space, to light like chuckling geese
+upon the planet, to feel the effect of their dreams come true.
+
+Loveral was sitting in his office, drumming his long fingers against his
+desk while the name, Atkinson, ticked through his brain like the sound
+of a sewing machine.
+
+Would he be the only one, Loveral asked himself, or was he just the
+first? In either case, it was up to Loveral, as leader and guiding hand,
+to stop this thing and stop it quickly.
+
+Loveral stood up and put on his jacket, although there was no need for
+it, other than the formality it gave his figure.
+
+He stepped out of his office into a clear bright day, where the air was
+clean and fresh in his lungs, at once like frost and fire and sweet
+perfume. He walked along a winding path, which was bordered by
+slim-necked flowers and a short hedge whose even clipped lines were kept
+neat by tireless robot hands.
+
+Trees pointed to a blue sky, rocking and fluttering their leaves in a
+soft breeze, and glinting metallic houses lay peacefully beyond in
+wooded hollows and upon slight hills.
+
+A whole small world was before his eyes, set there upon his direction,
+maintained by himself with the help of a dozen complex machines which
+lay locked and sealed in the Maintenance Room for only his fingers to
+touch.
+
+It was a busy life for Loveral, up at dawn to work until deep night,
+keeping his flock happy and free from spirit-killing labor. But it was a
+perfect plan, one which had been tested and turned in his mind for
+years. If he had to work hard to keep it running smoothly, that was all
+right. In fact, he had never been happier.
+
+Now, however, there was this business about Atkinson. Loveral was
+disturbed about that.
+
+He walked on, over the quiet path which would lead to the house where
+Atkinson and his wife lived. Loveral smiled, in readiness for any happy
+face that might appear before him, to greet him, to show with thankful
+eyes appreciation for his wonderful world. But that, too, brought
+thoughts that were a bit disturbing.
+
+Lately there had been few such faces. Most of his flock no longer seemed
+to care about walking along the cultivated paths, or smiling, or
+nodding, or touching a leaf here or a flower there. They preferred, it
+appeared, to remain deep inside their houses, as though they might have
+become tired of the soft perfection of Dream Planet. As though they
+might have become weary of quiet woods and sweet bird-music or a sky
+which was always blue.
+
+Loveral shook his head as he walked, puzzling out his thoughts. It was
+strange, but nothing to worry about certainly.
+
+Just this business about Atkinson. That was his only worry.
+
+He came slowly up a hill, the top of which held a low curving house,
+with a silver roof and wide, sweeping windows. There were yellow and
+blue and deep red flowers, skirting the sides of the house, and green
+ivy grew thickly between the glistening windows. The lawn, dotted with
+small leafy trees and round bushes, sloped down from the front of the
+house, looking like a carefully arranged painting.
+
+Loveral pressed a button beside a shining door and waited, smiling
+through his pale blue kindly eyes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. Atkinson appeared after several moments and stood blinking at him.
+She was a thin woman, who seemed to have gotten even thinner, Loveral
+noticed. She was working her fingers at the neck of her dress. She
+smiled but her lips wavered.
+
+"My dear," Loveral greeted her in his soft voice, showing the goodness
+in his eyes.
+
+She nodded her recognition, opening her mouth without speaking.
+
+"May I?" said Loveral finally, waving his long fingers toward the living
+room.
+
+"Oh, yes," said the woman. "Of course, Mr. Loveral." And as she spoke
+Loveral had the impression she might suddenly begin crying.
+
+Loveral followed the woman into the house, noticing all over again the
+precise way everything had been arranged. The rug was soft beneath his
+feet, and the light came in through the windows in such a way that it,
+too, became soft. The furniture, molded to hold a human body most
+comfortably, rested about the room in perfect efficiency.
+
+"Your place is so lovely," Loveral said, out of his old habit from
+Earth. But his words seemed to ring strangely in the quiet, because it
+was his own arrangement, like all the other rooms on the planet. And
+Mrs. Atkinson, standing thin and nervous before him, had nothing, after
+all, to do with it. The cleanliness was the work of his robot machines,
+the planning his own. It was like complimenting himself.
+
+He cleared his throat and stood, smiling his most benevolent smile to
+reassure Mrs. Atkinson.
+
+"Ah, my dear. Is George about?"
+
+Again, the woman's hand skittered to her throat.
+
+"He's not ill, surely?" Loveral asked, although this, too, was silly,
+because foods, selected and prepared for utmost nutrition, packed
+and frozen to be doled out in weekly quantities, purified air,
+disease-killing serums, simply written folders on exercise, and of
+course Loveral's own philosophies of quiet, peaceful living--all of this
+guarded well the health of Dream Planet's flock.
+
+The woman shook her head. "No, George is fine. He's just--sleeping, I
+think."
+
+"Rest is nature's finest tonic," said Loveral, and hearing his voice
+thought suddenly there was hardly anything he could say any more that
+might not sound a bit out of place in this peaceful world. Rest to the
+man who had nothing to do ceased to be a tonic.
+
+"Yes, yes," said Loveral. "May we just sit down, my dear?"
+
+Mrs. Atkinson jerked a hand toward one of the chairs and then wound her
+fingers.
+
+Loveral sat down and leaned back, smiling his most charming smile.
+"Perhaps George might awaken after a bit?"
+
+"Oh, yes," the woman said, her eyes flickering, and she sat upon the
+edge of one chair, like a bird perched upon a thin wire.
+
+Loveral waited, legs crossed, leaning his head back against the silken
+softness of the chair. It was so good to relax these days. The business
+of watching and of caring for his flock was trying. When you have
+brought an entire community of people at great expense through space,
+guaranteeing to give them a life of constant comfort and ease, so that
+they might dream and think as they wander through the flowers and the
+leaves, their thoughts cleansed of worry about work and responsibility,
+then you have a job. Loveral was most busy, busier than his heritage of
+wealth ever before had allowed, seeing to all of this.
+
+But he also was most content--with everything except Atkinson.
+
+Mrs. Atkinson teetered on the edge of her chair, as though she might at
+any moment go flying across the room in a crazy gyration. There was
+something about her eyes, Loveral noticed, while he peacefully nodded in
+the chair. Fear, perhaps.
+
+If so, he probably had been right. He tightened himself, listening.
+There it was again. The sound. Just as he had heard it a day before when
+he had passed near the house. He leaned forward quickly.
+
+Mrs. Atkinson jumped.
+
+Loveral smiled. "Didn't I hear a noise of some sort, my dear?"
+
+"Noise?" the woman said, as though her own voice were the sound of an
+echo.
+
+"An odd noise," Loveral said, his eyes searching.
+
+The woman's hands fluttered about her dress.
+
+Loveral stood up. "Would you mind if I just glanced about, my dear?"
+
+The woman didn't answer, but Loveral was already moving across the room
+toward a door. He opened it and walked down a hall. The noise grew
+stronger. He threw open another door.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He stood watching while George Atkinson spun around, dark eyes flashing,
+hair tousled. There was a two days' growth of beard darkening Atkinson's
+face.
+
+"Why, George," Loveral said, swiftly examining the litter of metal and
+wood which was spread over a table behind Atkinson. There was a
+home-made hammer in Atkinson's hand. "What have we here, George?"
+
+"Something for you," Atkinson said, tightening his fingers about the
+handle of the hammer.
+
+Loveral grinned his famous Loveral grin. "That's fine. What could it
+be?"
+
+"None of your damned business."
+
+"_George_," Loveral said, his smile still white but his eyes narrow and
+quick.
+
+The woman was behind them. Her voice screeched. "George, I told you. Why
+didn't you listen, George? You should have listened to me. You--"
+
+Loveral held up a hand, still watching Atkinson. "Now tell me, George,
+what is it you're making for me?"
+
+Atkinson raised the hammer slightly.
+
+Loveral stood very still. "That's a nice hammer, George."
+
+Atkinson's eyes were black beneath his thick brows.
+
+"You made that, didn't you?" Loveral asked.
+
+"Yes, I made that," Atkinson said. "I made that and I made something
+else. Another minute and I'll have that finished, too."
+
+"George," said Loveral, stepping quietly forward, "I don't like to say
+this, of course. You've been one of our very best members. But nobody
+works here, George. We can't allow that. You know the rules."
+
+"I know the rules, all right."
+
+"Well, then," Loveral said, extending his hand toward the hammer, "we'll
+just destroy this and whatever else you might have been making. We'll
+just forget it ever happened. We'll get along real fine that way,
+George. We'll just be such good friends."
+
+"We'll just go to hell," said Atkinson, snatching his hammer away.
+
+Loveral's smile disappeared. "I'll tell you, George. I have to mean
+business with this. You know the reasons. If we allow anybody to work
+here, then there's going to be trouble. That isn't our plan. We're here
+to grow within ourselves and expand culturally. Not to commercialize a
+beautiful world like Dream Planet."
+
+Atkinson stood unmoving, and Loveral could see the way the man's muscles
+were tight, like steel springs, and the way his eyes burned deep inside
+their blackness.
+
+"We've given you everything you need," Loveral explained, trying to
+adjust the smile on his lips again. "Everybody has everything they want.
+But, you see, if you sit there and work and make something that someone
+else doesn't have, then the whole system is destroyed. Then someone will
+want what you've made. We'll have jealousy and hatred and fighting. This
+is the stuff of which wars are made, George. You know that. It starts
+with small things like this, but it grows. When it does, the structure
+of our life here will collapse. You wouldn't want that, would you,
+George?"
+
+"Yes!" Atkinson said, his mouth white at the edges. "I'd like to see the
+whole rotten thing collapsed and blown to hell!"
+
+Loveral's teeth snapped together and his lips grew tight. He could feel
+a muscle jumping along his neck.
+
+Atkinson looked at him with furious eyes. "What do you think it's like,
+living this way? You're busy working twenty-four hours a day, while we
+wander around this damned prison like the breathing dead. You can feel
+sweat and aches in your bones from a hard day's work. Sleep is like
+medicine to you, instead of another stretch of torture. You can forget
+your own brain for a while by doing something with your hands. You can
+relax because you can get tired. Not us, by God. Not us!"
+
+"I envy you, George," Loveral said through his teeth.
+
+"Oh, like hell you do. You treat us like we were helpless infants. You
+feed and clothe us and do all our work, and you're so happy you damned
+near split your guts."
+
+"I'll take that, if you don't mind," Loveral said, reaching for the
+hammer, his voice suddenly icy cold.
+
+Atkinson slammed back against the table. "No, you won't. You won't take
+anything more at all. You've taken our spirit and our pride and the
+strength right out of our spines. You won't take anything more!"
+
+"George?" Loveral said, but not moving any further.
+
+Atkinson slid the hammer back of him onto the table, and his hands were
+searching among a dozen scattered pieces of metal and wood. He watched
+Loveral as he worked. "Let me show you what else I've made," he said.
+
+"I'd hate to do it," Loveral said, "but I can stop your food, your
+water, everything."
+
+Atkinson's hands moved swiftly, assembling the pieces. He nodded. "You
+can, but you won't."
+
+"I have the only keys to the storage units. I control everything,
+George."
+
+"Correction," said Atkinson, holding an assembled revolver in his hands.
+"You _did_."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Loveral looked at what Atkinson had in his hands. He blinked.
+
+"You're nearly dead," Atkinson said.
+
+Loveral looked at Atkinson, into his eyes. "If you wanted to kill me,
+you could have done it some other way."
+
+Atkinson shook his head. "Just this way. Just with something that took
+me dozens of days and nights to make. With something that made me sweat
+and swear to get. It was difficult--with no tools or proper
+materials--but that made it all the better. Now I've got it finished,"
+he said, pushing a bullet into the chamber, "and ready to use."
+
+Loveral stood frozen, then he turned. "My dear," he said to the woman
+who moved her mouth as though her voice had been pumped out of her. He
+reached to touch her shoulder. She recoiled, as though his fingers held
+poison. "George," he said, turning back to the black-eyed man.
+
+"This is a great moment," Atkinson said, lifting the muzzle of the
+revolver. "When I squeeze the trigger, it'll be like blowing the lock
+off a prison door. I'll go yelling to the others, and we'll smash down
+the whole goddamned place. We'll smash it down, so we'll have to rebuild
+it. We'll pull apart every robot you've got. We'll tear apart the food
+lockers and have a celebration for a week, and when we've gotten sick
+from too much food, we'll start growing some more with our own hands.
+We'll make forges for the men and looms for the women. We'll burn our
+clothes and make new ones. We'll grow corn in the fields. We'll pump
+water from the ground. You're finished, Loveral."
+
+Loveral stared at the revolver. "George," he said, pleading. "The plans.
+The beautiful, beautiful plans. All of you, you all wanted peace and
+contentment. Time to think and dream. You all wanted to get away from
+the work and the worry and the responsibility. You--"
+
+Atkinson fired the gun into Loveral's stomach.
+
+Loveral gestured at the air and fell to his knees. Atkinson threw his
+gun through a window and grabbed his wife by the hand. "Hurry!" he said,
+laughing. "Hurry!"
+
+Loveral felt of the blood on his shirt and rested on his knees. He could
+hear footsteps, racing through the house and out to the yard. He held
+out his bloody hand and looked at it. Atkinson's voice pealed through
+the warm clear air. "He's dead! Loveral's dead!"
+
+There was a sound of sudden activity, and everywhere went the cry,
+"Loveral's dead!"
+
+Loveral sank to his haunches and opened his lips. The blood was there,
+too. He could hear the shouts and the laughter, and then the tearing of
+steel, the smashing of glass. He bent over his knees, trembling with a
+sudden chill. The sound of destruction grew like thunder. "Why?" he said
+in his dying throat. "Oh, why? It was what they said they wanted."
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+    This etext was produced from _If Worlds of Science Fiction_
+    September 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
+    the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling
+    and typographical errors have been corrected without note.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Planet of Dreams, by James McKimmey
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PLANET OF DREAMS ***
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