Planet of Dreams, Page 2

voice screeched. "George, I told you. Whydidn'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 somethingelse. Another minute and I'll have that finished, too."

  "George," said Loveral, stepping quietly forward, "I don't like to saythis, of course. You've been one of our very best members. But nobodyworks 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'lljust destroy this and whatever else you might have been making. We'lljust 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 meanbusiness with this. You know the reasons. If we allow anybody to workhere, then there's going to be trouble. That isn't our plan. We're hereto grow within ourselves and expand culturally. Not to commercialize abeautiful world like Dream Planet."

  Atkinson stood unmoving, and Loveral could see the way the man's muscleswere tight, like steel springs, and the way his eyes burned deep insidetheir blackness.

  "We've given you everything you need," Loveral explained, trying toadjust the smile on his lips again. "Everybody has everything they want.But, you see, if you sit there and work and make something that someoneelse doesn't have, then the whole system is destroyed. Then someone willwant what you've made. We'll have jealousy and hatred and fighting. Thisis the stuff of which wars are made, George. You know that. It startswith small things like this, but it grows. When it does, the structureof 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 thewhole rotten thing collapsed and blown to hell!"

  Loveral's teeth snapped together and his lips grew tight. He could feela 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 wewander around this damned prison like the breathing dead. You can feelsweat and aches in your bones from a hard day's work. Sleep is likemedicine to you, instead of another stretch of torture. You can forgetyour own brain for a while by doing something with your hands. You canrelax 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. Youfeed and clothe us and do all our work, and you're so happy you damnednear split your guts."

  "I'll take that, if you don't mind," Loveral said, reaching for thehammer, his voice suddenly icy cold.

  Atkinson slammed back against the table. "No, you won't. You won't takeanything more at all. You've taken our spirit and our pride and thestrength 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 weresearching among a dozen scattered pieces of metal and wood. He watchedLoveral 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, yourwater, everything."

  Atkinson's hands moved swiftly, assembling the pieces. He nodded. "Youcan, 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 tookme dozens of days and nights to make. With something that made me sweatand swear to get. It was difficult--with no tools or propermaterials--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 womanwho moved her mouth as though her voice had been pumped out of her. Hereached to touch her shoulder. She recoiled, as though his fingers heldpoison. "George," he said, turning back to the black-eyed man.

  "This is a great moment," Atkinson said, lifting the muzzle of therevolver. "When I squeeze the trigger, it'll be like blowing the lockoff a prison door. I'll go yelling to the others, and we'll smash downthe whole goddamned place. We'll smash it down, so we'll have to rebuildit. We'll pull apart every robot you've got. We'll tear apart the foodlockers and have a celebration for a week, and when we've gotten sickfrom 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 ourclothes and make new ones. We'll grow corn in the fields. We'll pumpwater 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 andcontentment. Time to think and dream. You all wanted to get away fromthe 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 hisgun 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 couldhear footsteps, racing through the house and out to the yard. He heldout his bloody hand and looked at it. Atkinson's voice pealed throughthe 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 ofsteel, the smashing of glass. He bent over his knees, trembling with asudden chill. The sound of destruction grew like thunder. "Why?" he saidin 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.