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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 ***