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diff --git a/30045-h/30045-h.htm b/30045-h/30045-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ce24940 --- /dev/null +++ b/30045-h/30045-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,646 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Planet of Dreams, by James McKimmey, Jr. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2,.hd1,.hd2 {text-align: center;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 2em auto; visibility: hidden;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .figl {float: left; clear: left; margin: 0 1em 1em 0; padding: 0; width: 353px;} + img {border: none;} + a:link,a:visited {text-decoration: none;} + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; margin-right: .05em; padding-top: .05em; font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em; width: auto;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + .figt {float: left; clear: left; margin: 15px; padding: 0; width: 284px;} + .trn {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; min-height: 230px;} + .trn p {margin: 15px;} + .hd1 {margin-bottom: 2em;} + .hd2 {margin-top: 2em;} + .sp1 {font-size: 150%;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> +<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—best of all—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—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—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—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—"</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—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."</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—"</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> |