My Fair Planet, Page 2

agreed, "it has oftenseemed to me that if some really gifted individual, equally adept atacting, directing, producing, playwriting, teaching, et al., were toundertake a thorough synthesis of the theater--ah, but that would costmoney," he interrupted himself, "and who would underwrite such aproject? Certainly not the government of the United States." He gave abitter laugh.

  "Perhaps, under a new regime, conditions might be more favorable for theartist--"

  "Shhh!" Paul looked nervously over his shoulder. "There are Senatorseverywhere. Besides, I never said things were _good_ in Russia, just_better_--for the actor, that is. Of course the plays are atrociouspropaganda--"

  "I was not referring to another human regime. The human being is, atbest, save for certain choice spirits, unsympathetic to the arts. Weoutworlders have a far greater respect for things of the mind."

  Paul opened his mouth; Ivo continued without giving him a chance tospeak, "No doubt you have often wondered just what I am doing here onEarth?"

  The question had never crossed Paul's mind. Feeling vaguely guilty, hemurmured, "Some people have funny ideas of where to go for a vacation."

  "I am here on business," Ivo told him. "The situation on Sirius isserious."

  "You know, that's catchy! 'The situation on Sirius is serious'," Paulrepeated, tapping his foot. "I've often thought of trying my hand at amusical com--"

  "I mean we have had a ser--grave population problem for the last coupleof centuries, hence our government has sent out scouts to look for otherplanets with similar atmosphere, climate, gravity and so on, where wecan ship our excess population. So far, we have found very few."

  When Paul's attention was focused, he could be as quick as anybody toput two and two together. "But Earth is already occupied. In fact, whenI was in school, I heard something about our having a population problemourselves."

  "The other planets we already--ah--took over were in a similar state,"Ivo explained. "We managed to surmount that difficulty."

  "How?" Paul asked, though he already suspected the answer.

  "Oh, we didn't dispose of _all_ of the inhabitants. We merely weeded outthe undesirables--who, by fortunate chance, happened to be in themajority--and achieved a happy and peaceful coexistence with the rest."

  "But, look," Paul protested. "I mean to say----"

  "For instance," Ivo said suavely, "take the vast body of people whowatch television and who have never seen a legitimate play in theirlives and, indeed, rarely go to the motion pictures. Surely they areexpendable."

  "Well, yes, of course. But even among them there might be--oh, say, aplaywright's mother--"

  "One of the first measures our regime would take would be to establish avast network of community theaters throughout the world. And you, Paul,would receive first choice of starring roles."

  "Now wait a minute!" Paul cried hotly. He seldom allowed himself to losehis temper, but when he did ... he got _angry_! "I pride myself thatI've gotten this far wholly on my own merits. I don't believe in usinginfluence to--"

  "But, my dear fellow, all I meant was that, with an intelligentlycoordinated theater and an intellectually adult audience, your abilitieswould be recognized automatically."

  "Oh," said Paul.

  He was not unaware that he was being flattered, but it was so seldomthat anyone bothered to pay him any attention when he was not playing arole that it was difficult not to succumb. "Are--are you figuring ontaking over the planet single-handed?" he asked curiously.

  "Heavens, no! Talented as I am, there are limits. I don't dothe--ah--dirty work myself. I just conduct the preliminary investigationto determine how powerful the local defenses are."

  "We have hydrogen bombs," Paul said, trying to remember details of anewspaper article he had once read in a producer's ante-room, "andplutonium bombs and--"

  "Oh, I know about all those," Ivo smiled expertly. "My job is checkingto make sure you don't have anything really dangerous."

  All that night, Paul wrestled with his conscience. He knew he shouldn'tjust let Ivo go on. Yet what else could he do? Go to the properauthorities? But which authorities were the proper ones? And even if hefound them, who would believe an actor offstage, delivering suchimprobable lines? He would either be laughed at or accused of being partof a subversive plot. It might result in a lot of bad publicity whichcould ruin his career.

  So Paul did nothing about Ivo. He went back to the usual rounds ofagents' and producers' offices, and the knowledge of why Ivo was onEarth got pushed farther into the back of his mind as he trudged frominterview to reading to interview.

  It was an exceptionally hot October--the kind of weather when sometimeshe almost lost his faith and began to wonder why he was batting his headagainst a stone wall, why he didn't get a job in a department storesomewhere or teaching school. And then he thought of the applause, thecurtain calls, the dream of some day seeing his name in lights above thetitle of the play--and he knew he would never give up. Quitting thetheater would be like committing suicide, for off the stage he was aliveonly technically. He was good; he knew he was good, so some day, heassured himself, he was bound to get his big break.

  Toward the end of that month, it came. After the maximum three readings,between which his hopes alternately waxed and waned, he was cast as themale lead in _The Holiday Tree_. The producers were more interested,they said, in getting someone who fitted the role of Eric Everard thanin a big name--especially since the female star preferred to have herluster undimmed by competition.

  Rehearsals took up so much of his time that he saw very little of Ivofor the next five weeks--but by then Ivo didn't need him any more.Actually, they were no longer teacher and pupil now but companions,drawn together by the fact that they both belonged to different worldsfrom the one in which they were living. Insofar as he could like anyonewho existed outside of his imagination, Paul had grown rather fond ofIvo. And he rather thought Ivo liked him, too--but, because he couldn'tever be quite sure of ordinary people's reactions toward him, how couldhe be sure of an outworlder's?

  Ivo came around to rehearsals sometimes, but naturally it would beboring for him, since he wasn't in the profession, and, after a while,he didn't come around very often. At first, Paul felt a twinge of guilt;then he remembered that he need not worry. Ivo had his own work.

  * * * * *

  The whole _Holiday Tree_ troupe went out of town for the tryouts, andPaul didn't see Ivo at all for six weeks. Busy, happy weeks they were,for the play was a smash hit from the start. It played to packed housesin New Haven and Boston, and the box office in New York was sold out formonths in advance before they even opened.

  "Must be kinda fun--acting," Ivo told Paul the morning after the NewYork opening, as Paul weltered contentedly on his bed--he had the bestroom in the house now--amid a pile of rave notices. At long last, he hadarrived. Everybody loved him. He was a success.

  And now that he had read the reviews and they were all favorable, hecould pay attention to the strange things that had happened to hisfriend. Raising himself up on an elbow, Paul cried, "Ivo, you're_mumbling_! After all I taught you about articulation!"

  "I got t'hanging 'round with this here buncha actors while y'were gone,"Ivo said. "They say mumbling's the comin' thing. 'Sides, y'kept yappingthat I declaimed, so--"

  "But you don't have to go to the opposite extreme and--_Ivo_!"Incredulously, Paul took in the full details of the other's appearance."What happened to your Brooks Brothers' suits?"

  "Hung 'em inna closet," Ivo replied, looking abashed. "I did wear onelas' night, though," he went on defensively. "Wooden come dressed likethis to y'opening. But all the other fellas wear blue jeans 'n leatherjackets. I mean, hell, I gotta conform more'n anybody. Y'know that,Paul."

  "And--" Paul sat bolt upright; this was the supreme outrage--"you'vechanged yourself! You've gotten _younger_!"

  "This is an age of yout'," Ivo mumbled. "An' I figured I was 'bout readyfor improvisation, like you said."

  "Look, Ivo, if you really want
to go on the stage----"

  "Hell, I don' wanna be no actor!" Ivo protested, far too vehemently."Y'know damn' well I'm a--a spy, scoutin' 'round t'see if y'have anysecret defenses before I make m'report."

  "I don't feel I'm giving away any government secrets," Paul said, "whenI tell you that the bastions of our defenses are not erected at theActors' Studio."

  "Listen,