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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/32859-h.zip b/32859-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2f0ff57 --- /dev/null +++ b/32859-h.zip diff --git a/32859-h/32859-h.htm b/32859-h/32859-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0d4555b --- /dev/null +++ b/32859-h/32859-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1309 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Perchance To Dream, by Richard Stockham. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.linenum { + position: absolute; + top: auto; + left: 4%; +} /* poetry number */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.sidenote { + width: 20%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; + margin-left: 1em; + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; + color: black; + background: #eeeeee; + border: dashed 1px; +} + +.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + +.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + +.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + +.br {border-right: solid 2px;} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Perchance to Dream, by Richard Stockham + +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: Perchance to Dream + +Author: Richard Stockham + +Illustrator: Kelly Freas + +Release Date: June 17, 2010 [EBook #32859] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PERCHANCE TO DREAM *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h1>PERCHANCE TO DREAM</h1> + +<h2>By Richard Stockham</h2> + +<h3>Illustrated by Kelly Freas</h3> + +<p>[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science +Fiction May 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that +the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="sidenote"><i>If you wish to escape, if you would go to faraway places, +then go to sleep and dream. For sometimes that is the only way....</i></div> + + +<p>All along the line of machines, the men's hands and arms worked like the +legs of spiders spinning a web. They wound wire and hammered bolts, tied +knots and welded pieces of steel and fitted gears. They did not look at +each other or sing or whistle or talk or laugh.</p> + +<p>And then—he made a mistake.</p> + +<p>Instantly he stepped back and a trouble shooter moved into his place. +The trouble shooter's hands flew over the controls.</p> + +<p>The trouble shooter finished and the workman took his place. His arms +moved ceaselessly again.</p> + +<p>He was a tall man, slim and wiry, his dress identical to that of the +others—grey coveralls that fit like tights.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a red light flashed in his eyes and he began to tremble. He +took two steps backward. The trouble shooter moved into the empty space.</p> + +<p>The man stood for a moment, like a soldier at attention, turned and +walked smartly toward the mouth of a corridor.</p> + +<p>The silence was like a motion picture with a dead sound track. There was +only motion—and him walking down the line of machines where the hands +reached out, working, working.</p> + +<p>In the corridor now, he looked straight ahead, marching. The walls +glowed like water beneath a shallow sea.</p> + +<p>He raised his arm, felt the door strike and the heel of his hand; felt +it swing open; saw the desk suspended from the ceiling by luminous, +silver chains.</p> + +<p>A man with a massive, white-maned head and a pink, smiling face rose +from behind the desk. His suit was like that of a general.</p> + +<p>"Well, Twenty-three." The Superfather stared down at the dossier on his +desk. "Two mistakes in three months. Too bad. Just when you were on your +way to the head of the machine room."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what's the matter with me," said Twenty-three.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid we'll have to drop you back to a less responsible position."</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>The Superfather looked up quickly. "You accept this? No depression? No +threat of suicide?... You <i>are</i> in bad shape." He handed a packet of +cards to Twenty-three. "Put these in your dream machine tonight. Go to +your new job tomorrow."</p> + +<p>Twenty-three stood motionless, staring over the other man's shoulder.</p> + +<p>The Superfather sat down. "Tell me about the dreams you have when you +don't use the machine."</p> + +<p>Twenty-three made a quick decision. He couldn't tell him he didn't use +the standard dream cards anymore. And he certainly couldn't tell about +the <i>other</i> dream cards he'd been getting from the little man he'd met +on the street. He'd simply answer the factual truth to the question that +had been asked.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, as though he were confessing a crime. "I dream I'm +walking in the city. It's dark. I feel like I've got to find something. +I don't know what. But the feeling's very strong. All of a sudden I +notice the city's empty. There're just buildings and streets and a faint +glow of light. And it comes to me that everybody's dead and buried. Then +I know what I'm looking for. I've got to find something alive or I'll +die too. So I start running around, in and out buildings, up and down +streets. But there's nothing. I'm breathing so hard I think my heart's +going to burst. Finally I fall down. I feel myself beginning to die. I +try to get up but I can't! I try to yell! I've got no voice! I'm so +afraid, I can't stand it! Then I wake up."</p> + +<p>The Superfather frowned. "Incredible. Several other cases like yours +have turned up in the last month. We're working on them. But yours is +the worst yet. You had such high capabilities. Your tests showed, when +you first began to work, ten years ago, that you were capable of going +to the head of your production line. But you're not doing it. Also your +normal dreams should correspond to the ones on the cards. And they +don't.... Are you using the standard cards every other night?"</p> + +<p>Twenty-three lied. "Yes."</p> + +<p>"And the nights you don't use them, you have a dream like the one you +just told me."</p> + +<p>"That's right."</p> + +<p>"Incredible." The Superfather shook his head. "It just doesn't add up. +As you know, you get the prescribed dreams every other night and that's +supposed to condition your mind to dreaming those same dreams, by +itself, on the nights you don't use the machine. The prescribed dreams +merely show you the true way of life. And when you're on your own you're +supposed to follow that way of life whether you're asleep or awake. +That's what the dream machine is for. I'm sure you're aware of all +this?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Twenty-three. "Yes."</p> + +<p>"Now we Superfathers <i>never</i> have to use the dream machines. We're so +filled with the way of life they advocate and it's become such an +integral part of us, we simply <i>are</i> what our prescribed dreams are. And +the more successful a person is in the city, the less he has to use the +dream machine. Now you have to use it every other night. That's entirely +too much for a man of your potential. You realize this, of course.</p> + +<p>"Oh I do," said Twenty-three shaking his head sadly.</p> + +<p>"Well now," said the Superfather, "that means something's wrong. <i>Very</i> +wrong." He rubbed his chin, thinking. "Your prescribed dreams show you +working faster and faster on the machines, going on month after month +year after year, with one hundred percent accuracy. They show you happy +in your work, driven by ambition on up to the end of your capabilities. +They show you contented there to the end of your working life." He +paused. "And you're <i>doing</i> just the opposite ... I suppose your wife +is—concerned?"</p> + +<p>Twenty-three nodded.</p> + +<p>"After all, the marriage center assured her your index was right for +her. <i>Her</i> sleep cards were coordinated with yours. The normal dreams of +both of you, without the machine, should be identical.... Yet you come +up with this horror—running through the city, alone, falling, dying."</p> + +<p>Twenty-three's mouth twitched.</p> + +<p>"Well." The Superfather stood. "If you can't adjust to normal, we'll +simply have to send you to the pre-frontal lobotomy men. You wouldn't +want that."</p> + +<p>"Oh no!"</p> + +<p>"Good!" The Superfather held out another packet of cards. "Use these +<i>tomorrow</i> night. It's a concentration pattern which should be dense +enough to make you dream of being, well—perhaps even President, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." Twenty-three hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said the Superfather.</p> + +<p>"I'd—like to ask a question."</p> + +<p>The Superfather nodded.</p> + +<p>"What—what use," went on Twenty-three, "is all this—work being put +to—that we do—along the machine lines—every day? We don't, seem to +really be <i>making</i> anything. Just working."</p> + +<p>The Superfather's eyes narrowed. "You're kept busy. You get paid. You +live. The city is here. That's all. That's enough."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Twenty-three turned abruptly, marched to the +door and stepped into the empty, silent corridor.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Twenty-three looked up at the glowing dome of the city that curved away +to the horizon. He wondered if there really was a white ball beyond it +sometimes and tiny dots of light, set in blue black. And at other times +did a ball of fire flame up there, giving light and heat and life? And +if there was this life and light up there, <i>why</i> the great dome over the +city? <i>Why</i> the factories and machine lines replacing it section after +section, generation after generation? The slabs that the workers fused +together this year and the next and the next, pushing back this life and +light and heat. Why not let it pour down into the city and warm all the +people? Why not go to the space out there and the depth and freedom? Why +this great shell that closed them away? For the sake of the Superfathers +maybe? And the Superfathers-plus? For the sake of the ones, like himself +maybe who worked and built? For the sake of them, so they wouldn't +become dangerous maybe and tear the great wall down and rush out into +whatever was beyond? Why else?</p> + +<p>But it could be all a farce. They could all be working in the great dome +because they didn't know what was beyond. Who could know if they'd never +been beyond?</p> + +<p>And so they were held under the domes with the buildings and the +machines that carried them all around in the city; held with the +plumbing and the theatres and all the intricate mechanisms that spoke to +them and fed them, that washed them and poured thoughts into their +minds, that healed them when they were sick and rested them when they +were tired. The same as they were held with the great dome. Held and +shackeled with the replacing of parts that didn't need replacing; the +making over and over again of the tiny and large pieces of the +mechanisms and the taking of the old mechanisms and the melting of them +or smashing of them to powder so that this dust or molten metal could be +fashioned again and again into the same pieces that they had been for so +many thousands of years. All this to keep them busy? All this to keep +something outside that was supposed to be destructive because once it +had been so five thousand years ago or ten or fifty? All this because +that was the way it had been for as long as the hundreds and the +thousands of years that history had been recorded?</p> + +<p>He walked on through the silence, dimly aware now of the people moving +about him, of the automobiles rolling past, as though moved by some +invisible force. He passed row upon row of movie theatres that called to +him with invisible vibrations. He turned away.</p> + +<p>Where was the little man?</p> + +<p>He stopped, moving only his eyes. After a moment, he saw the little man +step out of a shop-front and stand waiting. Twenty-three, a cigarette in +his mouth, walked over and asked for a light. The little man touched a +lighter to the cigarette, at the same time dropping a packet of cards +into Twenty-three's pocket.</p> + +<p>Twenty-three moved on. He felt the pounding of his heart. If only his +wife were asleep so he would not have to wait to look at these new +cards.</p> + +<p>As he walked, his thoughts cried out against the silence. He glanced +suspiciously from side to side. If only he could hear the sounds of the +city. But except for human voices and music, the city had always been +silent. The human voices spoke only words written by the Superfathers, +and the music came from records that had been composed by them—all this +back when the city had first come into being. Other than these sounds +there could be only the quiet all around. No chugging motors or scraping +footsteps. No crashing engines in the sky, or pounding of steel on +stone. No shrieking of factory whistles or clanging steeple bells or +honking automobile horns. None of this to pluck and pound at nerves, to +suggest that this place was not the most soothing and gentle of all +places to be in. There were no winds to swirl and moan away into the +distance. The chirp of birds had long since been stilled, and so had the +patter of rain and the crash of thunder. There must not be any of these +sounds either to lure the imagination into some distance where danger +and excitement might be waiting.</p> + +<p>Now he was walking toward the door of his apartment house. It swung +open. Thirty seconds later he stopped before another door. It too swung +open.</p> + +<p>His wife stood in the middle of the room, between two traveling bags. He +moved slowly toward her and stopped just out of arm's reach.</p> + +<p>"What's this?" He gestured toward the bags. "Where're you going?"</p> + +<p>She stared at him for a long moment, her face set. She was of his height +and build and wore a suit the same light grey as his. Their hair cuts +were identical, their faces sharp featured and pale. They might have +been brother and sister—or two brothers, or two sisters.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to the marriage center."</p> + +<p>"What for?" He had tried to inject surprise into his voice. But the tone +was listless.</p> + +<p>"The Superfather called about your dream."</p> + +<p>Twenty-three turned away, lighted a cigarette. He should beg her to +stay, should promise to change. But the silence was in him, like a +sickness.</p> + +<p>"A terrible thing's happening to you. I don't want any part of it." She +picked up the bags. "When you come to your senses, you know where to +reach me.... <i>If</i> I haven't already made another contract, I <i>might</i> +come back to you."</p> + +<p>She hesitated at the door.</p> + +<p>"There's one thing I don't understand. You haven't begged me to stay. +You haven't broken down. You haven't threatened suicide." She paused. +"It's standard procedure, you know. It might even make me decide to wait +awhile."</p> + +<p>"I don't want you to stay," he said. He felt a shock of surprise. It was +as though a voice had spoken from behind him.</p> + +<p>He watched the door shut between them.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Dressed in his pajamas, he stood beside the metal tube, in which for so +many years he had slept his regulation sleep and dreamed his regulation +dreams. There was something of the finely made casket about this +tube—the six foot length and three foot diameter; the lid along its top +and the dull shine of the metal and the quiet of it, as though it were +asleep and lying in wait for a tired body to bring it awake so that it +could put the body to sleep and live in the dreams it would give to the +sleeper.</p> + +<p>Beside his own tube stood its twin, where his wife had also slept and +dreamed through the years.</p> + +<p>Leaning slightly forward, he felt the press of metal against his hip +bones, felt the tube roll an inch with his weight. He rested one hand on +the metal top, felt its warmth and smoothness, was aware of its +cleanness, like that of a surgical instrument.</p> + +<p>Now he glanced at the glistening black panel that stood two feet high at +the tube's head; quickly checked its four illuminated dials and three +gleaming arrows and at the same time raised his hand to drop the cards +into the softly glowing slot at the panel's top.</p> + +<p>Suddenly his hand stopped.</p> + +<p>He bent forward.</p> + +<p>What was this? A feeling of strangeness. Vague. Like sensing some subtle +change in a picture that has hung for twenty years above the fireplace +in one's home.</p> + +<p>He drew closer, squinting. The dials and meters seemed to be the same as +they had yesterday and the day before and the year before.</p> + +<p>And yet?</p> + +<p>The dials. Larger? By a fraction? And the tiny gleaming arrows of the +meters. Barely longer? And the marks on the dials and meters? One extra +each, very faintly, like a piece of hair.</p> + +<p>He was very still for a long moment. Then he moved around the foot of +his own sleeping tube, pushed between the two and stood at the head of +the other one.</p> + +<p>He checked its dials and meters. They were as they had been for many +years. He stepped back to the panel of his own and pressed a button. As +the glistening metal top rose, silently, he ran his hand around the +yawning interior, felt the downy softness and the body-like warmth. Then +his hand touched a pliable metal plate. That should not be there. He +stood back, remembering the workmen who had come into the house that +morning for the routine checkup of the tubes. His wife had already left +for work and he had just stepped through the door when they had met him +in the corridor. They had gone on into the rooms and he had sensed +vaguely that something was wrong. Then he had put the feeling out of his +mind and gone to his work.</p> + +<p>Now suddenly, he turned to the illuminated four inch square panel above +the door, read April 15, 2563. The workmen had checked a day early. He +frowned. Either the Superfather had ordered the machine changed, which +was highly improbable, because every object in the city was standardized +and any change would upset the established order, or the workmen were +tied up with the man who had given him the different dream cards.... In +any event he had to sleep in the tube that night and he definitely +wanted to dream the dreams on the cards he had just gotten from the man +on the corner.</p> + +<p>He dropped the cards into the slot at the top of the panel, climbed into +the tube and pressed a button. The top closed over him, like a hand. He +lay still, feeling the warm clasp wash over his body. There was darkness +and silence and a cool motion of antiseptic air. He could try the first +dream. If it wasn't right, he could shut it off and sleep without +dreams.</p> + +<p>He pressed another button.</p> + +<p>Silence.</p> + +<p>The sound of his regular breathing.</p> + +<p>Then a sighing came into his mind, and a green haze. The sighing became +a soft breeze; the green, tree-covered hills rolling off to the horizon. +He relaxed, aware in a fading, sinking part of his consciousness that +the machine worked as usual. He would dream and wait and hope....</p> + +<p>And so the wind was breathing across the land from off a vast stretch of +blue water, which broke along a sandy beach in foamy white breakers. The +surf thundered all through his body. The wind brushed against him like a +great, purring cat. He looked up at the blue sky and seemed to feel +himself rising and sinking, both at the same time, up into its depths. +As his sight touched the sun there was an explosion of brightness which +blinded him. He turned away then to the rolling green sea of hills, saw +the trees bending from the surge of wind and heard the rustling of +leaves.</p> + +<p>And then a deep voice moved through his mind.</p> + +<p>"Outside the city," it said, "all this exists. During the terrible +burning of the Earth back in the wars of its antiquity, the city was +built as a place of life for those who yet lived. But those people were +not aware that the Earth would come alive again and they made the city +so that no death could enter it from without and no life could escape +from within. And they turned away from the Earth and lived only with the +city so that it became their universe—to all but a very few of us. We +still held a faint awareness of what the Earth had been—this passed +down to us for many generations, in whisperings, by the wise ones of our +people, back in the beginning of the city. And in those times, we had +been in the city too long, for thousands of years. We knew that there +must be freedom beyond the walls, if we could get through. But the walls +were thick and high and without a flaw, making a sky over us. We worked +for five hundred years on a machine to get us through the wall. Now a +few of us have succeeded and more will follow us to the freedom out here +in the good land. There is room for everyone here, there are no +boundaries and no ceilings and no walls anywhere. And you may join us +some time in the near future, if you wish."</p> + +<p>Twenty-three sighed in his sleep.</p> + +<p>Now a great city faded into his mind. There were long, tree lined +streets and buildings, some built in rising spirals, some in spreading +squares, others in ovals, domes and curved half circles. The wind +wandered among the buildings and the bursts of green. People, dressed in +white, flowing robes or black tights, walked the streets. He could hear +their footsteps on the stone or grassy walk, could hear the hum of +vehicles rolling along the streets or flying through the air. They were +long and streamlined or short and round, or they were curved like +gondolas or squat like saucers. And they were moving at many speeds. Yet +there was order. And the air was sweet and clean. A black line of clouds +was rising across the horizon. Soon there would be lightning and thunder +and cool rain.</p> + +<p>The deep voice touched him again. "This is the city that can be. A city +of life, open to the sky and the earth, a city in which people can find +and follow their own lives. After the wars, the cities were built to +shut out the death of Earth. But the Earth has come to life again. And +so can the cities."</p> + +<p>The silence came while the picture changed and Twenty-three stirred, +waiting.</p> + +<p>A figure grew in his mind, wavered, and became a woman. Twenty-three saw +the long body and the softness; saw the flowing hair and the smile as +she watched him. He saw the gentleness in her face; saw a strength under +the softness, like the storm that lies below the charged quiet of a +summer evening. Her lips moved.</p> + +<p>"Paul. Dream your dreams for <i>us</i>." The words seemed to fall on him. He +trembled and cried out. And he felt a violent stirring in his body and a +breaking away as though he had flung himself through the walls of a +tomb.</p> + +<p>The picture blew away while the voice continued: "She is a woman, not a +woman who half resembles a man." A pause. "When you wish to leave the +city, ask for the final card. You are welcome."</p> + +<p>There was silence and darkness. Twenty-three stirred. He opened his +eyes. The glow from the city outside filtered into the room through the +translucent walls. He lay motionless. Paul. He was Paul. Not +Twenty-three. A man with a name. Wonder came into him, and a sense of +strength, and a willingness to remember without fear.</p> + +<p>His mind ran back to the first mistake, almost a year past. He +remembered the horror of failure then and the terror at his being +subjected to a mistake. He remembered the inference from the Superfather +that there might be a bad strain in his blood line. He remembered taking +the dream cards that were to have set him straight, that were to have +shown him working over the machines with super speed, moving up along +the production line to its pinnacle and on up to the position of +Superfather and on up to Superfather-plus and on up to the place of +Father of The City. But the cards had been sabotaged, so that from them +into his mind had come the dreams of the trees and the oceans and the +green earth spreading off to the horizon and the expanse of blue sky.</p> + +<p>And then the words had directed him to the little man who had given him +the cards on the street corner. They had known him, the words had said, +through what was called telepathetic screening, for ones suitable to +leave the city. He was one of those chosen, because he, like a few +others, had been unable to adjust completely to the demands of the city. +He was one of those in whom a rebellious nature had been passed down +from generation to generation, by attitudes and acts of his ancestors, +by a word spoken here and one there, by an intangible reaching out +toward the sky and the green growing things and the need to understand +who and what he was. But in him now this feeling was weak and close to +death and would die in him if it were not brought out into life of the +Earth.</p> + +<p>Now the memories receded; he lay motionless, listening to his breathing +and his heartbeat, feeling his body press against the softness that held +him.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Suddenly a shaft of light fell on him through the transparent square. +Opening his eyes, he saw his wife's face staring down at him.</p> + +<p>She moved her hand. The lid of the tube raised. He lay watching her, +feeling naked and, for a moment, helpless.</p> + +<p>"I talked for a long while with your Superfather," she said. "I feel +better. He told me you'd promised to take the prescribed dreams +tonight."</p> + +<p>Twenty-three turned his face away from her.</p> + +<p>She began to undress.</p> + +<p>"I'm going out for a walk." He stepped from the machine.</p> + +<p>She watched him dress, her look a mixture of curiosity and fright.</p> + +<p>When he left it was as though he were leaving an empty room and she +watched him as though he were not quite human.</p> + +<p>The glow of the city was all around him as he walked toward the corner +where the little man stood. The telepathic advertisers reached out from +the places of entertainment, pulling at him. The voices enveloped him +for a moment so that he almost turned back to them. But then he saw, in +his mind, his arms working over the machines, saw them make a wrong +motion that smashed a gear, saw the flashing red light and the heavy, +expressionless face of the Superfather. He was aware that his memory +would be erased and the skies, and the ocean, and the green hills. His +name would be gone. Paul would die. And the city would be his tomb.</p> + +<p>Quickly he turned down a side street, saw the small figure leaning +against the corner of the building.</p> + +<p>Walking rapidly toward him, as though he were being chased, he saw the +lean, ruddy face smile and the deep, blue eyes look at him; heard the +voice gently say:</p> + +<p>"Welcome, Paul."</p> + +<p>"The last card," said Twenty-three.</p> + +<p>The little man handed it to him, quickly. "Good luck. Turn the dials one +extra point on the control panel. Our men have made the machine ready. +It's time now."</p> + +<p>Twenty-three thrust the card into the inner pocket of his jacket. So +that <i>was</i> it. They <i>had</i> changed the machine.</p> + +<p>"One extra point," he repeated, glancing up and down the street.</p> + +<p>"And remember," said the little man. "Destroy all the cards you've used +before. They were designed particularly for you. If you don't make it +across to us, the Superfathers will use the cards against you."</p> + +<p>Twenty-three whirled around. The little man had gone. Twenty-three +suddenly felt weak. My God! The other cards! Left in the machine! If his +wife—!</p> + +<p>He stood very still for a long moment, then he ran!</p> + +<p>The door to his apartment swung open. The room beyond was empty. A light +shown faintly. He stood for a moment, listening. Silence. He stepped to +the bedroom. The top of his wife's sleeping tube was closed. He could +see her face through the transparent square, could hear her quiet +breathing.</p> + +<p>In one quick, silent motion, he stepped to the side of his own tube, +pulling the last card from his pocket, and dropped it into the glowing +slot at the top of the black control panel. Then he turned the dials to +the extra point.</p> + +<p>Several minutes later he pressed the button at the bottom of the control +panel. The top opened. At the same moment, he heard a step behind him. +He whirled around. The Superfather stood in the doorway. At his back +hovered the dark bulks of two other men. Twenty-three felt his muscles +lock. He saw the Superfather's dead smile and then his wife stepping +down to the floor and hurrying to the side of the Superfather.</p> + +<p>"Those pictures," she said, shuddering. "They were so—strange."</p> + +<p>The Superfather held his eyes on Twenty-three but spoke to the woman. +"Thank God you were strong. It was commendable of you to call us."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what made me look at his dreams," she cried. "Maybe it was +when I asked him if he'd taken the prescribed dreams and he didn't +answer.... Anyway, I tested his machine. It was insane!"</p> + +<p>"Dreams made by some twisted mind," the Superfather said. "Remember. +They've no real existence. Nothing lives or moves outside the city. +There were old myths but they've been dead for countless generations." +He paused. "Where <i>are</i> the pictures?"</p> + +<p>"I burned them."</p> + +<p>"Good." He motioned to the men behind him. They came forward and stood +on each side of Twenty-three.</p> + +<p>"Twenty-three," said the Superfather, "we may have to erase your +memories and your present individuality." He cleared his throat. "Our +records show that some two thousand people have disappeared in the last +five years. Your case has much to do with it.... Where'd you get the new +cards?"</p> + +<p>Twenty-three was silent.</p> + +<p>The Superfather pulled out a pack of cards. "Before we leave this room, +you'll be a different man. If you tell us,"—he waggled the cards in his +right hand—"this'll be your new life. You'll have dreams of outdoing +every man on the machine lines and fix your body so you'll have the +capacity to do it. You <i>will</i> do it. You'll become a Superfather. You'll +burn to excel them. You'll push on up, become a Superfather-plus. You'll +work with ideas, ways of increasing efficiency, pushing the workmen +faster and faster. And you'll find ways of conditioning them to meet the +greater and greater demands for speed. The city and people'll be at your +fingertips. There'll be rooms of marble and gold for you. Soft carpets +and buttons to push that'll give you any desire instantly. You'll <i>have</i> +everything and <i>be</i> everything!" He paused and took a deep breath. "All +this'll be yours if you'll tell us where you got the cards, without +forcing us to probe your mind with the electric-scalpel...."</p> + +<p>With an effort, Twenty-three raised his eyes to the Superfather's face.</p> + +<p>"And if I don't tell you?"</p> + +<p>"Moving a lever back and forth twice a minute hour after hour, year +after year. Living in a bare cubicle. No entertainment. No desires." He +paused. "And no <i>memories</i>."</p> + +<p>Twenty-three looked over the Superfather's shoulder. The last card, he +thought, is in the machine. Escape from the city. They said that, from +outside. I've got to know. No matter what they put in the machine, that +card will show first. Even if it's only for ten seconds or thirty or +sixty, or however long—I'll know.</p> + +<p>"No," he said, "I won't tell you...."</p> + +<p>The woman gasped and hid her face. The Superfather, scowling, made a +motion.</p> + +<p>The two dark men took hold of Twenty-three. They lifted him into the +tube.</p> + +<p>The Superfather dropped the second pack of cards into the panel and +pressed the button. The top closed silently, like a mouth.</p> + +<p>Twenty-three's eyes closed; his body waited.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>For an instant—blackness, and silence, like a moment after death, or a +moment before birth. Then twilight, or dusk, over an ocean. A sky of +pale blue. A shine on the gently surging waters. A scent of clean air. +Sea spray. The cool sound of wind.</p> + +<div class="figleft"> +<img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<p>Then a man's voice, deep and flowing: "You know that there is no +entrance or exit to this city. It is sealed off and will always be so. +But the dream machine in which you lie has been changed by our agents +inside the city. The last card you dropped into it is different from the +others. These changes have been made so your dream will become a +reality. Your mind will be transmitted to us here among the hills and +under the trees and by the ocean. And a new body, that we have grown, +artificially, from all the elements, a body like the one you will leave +behind, will be waiting for you. You need not be afraid."</p> + +<p>Twenty-three felt himself moving forward. Sight and hearing and +sensation, without a body. Time dropping away, like a forgetting of +yesterday and tomorrow. There was only this moment. And then he felt the +great humming surging power of the machine, like an ocean rushing him +toward some unseen shore. He was caught in a gigantic tingling shock +wave, and felt like a tremendously outsized torch, lit and flaming, and +carried, still burning, in the green tide of sizzling electricity. The +machine screamed. The machine chanted. The machine raved. Dimly, he +heard his wife cry, and above him felt the Superfather scrabbling at the +machine, the guards shouting. The machine shrieked and the great tidal +wave of power jolted and flung him, white-hot kindling, through air, +through sky, up and down! Down upon a white shore, upon creaming sands, +leaving him to quiet, to silence, to a pulling away of the tide....</p> + +<p>Now the scent of sea came strong into him. He heard the crash and roar +of surf and the rustling of leaves and the sweep of wind. There were +bird songs and the cries of animals. He saw the spread of rolling hills, +saw a stream searching its way among great rocks and swelling and +rolling full into a river and the river flowing and sinking into the +sea. He felt the earth upon his feet and the touch of grass. Breezes, +heavy with green from the land eddied all around him and filled his body +and washed him. He heard his name—saw people coming toward him saying, +"Welcome." He felt their arms, embracing him. He saw an open city +growing among the hills. Its buildings rolled away with the hills of the +Earth and became a part of the Earth. The people took him by the hand +and led him toward it speaking to him of no one hurting the other, and +no one locked in a cell and all the walls of this world outside, tumbled +down....</p> + +<p>He was happy and repeated the name they spoke to him.</p> + +<p>"Paul."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Back in the city, in the room, the wife cried out.</p> + +<p>The Superfather, too, seeing the strange look on the face of the man +inside the chrysalis of the dream-maker, quickly touched the button that +raised the lid. He bent down and took the wrist of the cold man lying +there.</p> + +<p>"Dead."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>The Superfather bent still further down and listened to the chest, and +the wife came close, and they both stood there, half-bent. The mouth of +the dead man was open and the Superfather listened for any faint whisper +of breath. The wife listened. They both looked at each other for a long +time.</p> + +<p>Because, from the open mouth of the cold man lying there, faintly, far +away, and fading slowly into silence, they heard quiet laughter, and the +sound of many birds and voices, and trees rustling in the late +afternoon. Then it was gone and no matter how the two people bending +there waited and listened, it was like putting their ear to a white +stone.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Perchance to Dream, by Richard Stockham + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PERCHANCE TO DREAM *** + +***** This file should be named 32859-h.htm or 32859-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/8/5/32859/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: Perchance to Dream + +Author: Richard Stockham + +Illustrator: Kelly Freas + +Release Date: June 17, 2010 [EBook #32859] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PERCHANCE TO DREAM *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + PERCHANCE TO DREAM + + By Richard Stockham + + Illustrated by Kelly Freas + +[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science +Fiction May 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that +the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] + + +[Sidenote: _If you wish to escape, if you would go to faraway places, +then go to sleep and dream. For sometimes that is the only way...._] + + +All along the line of machines, the men's hands and arms worked like the +legs of spiders spinning a web. They wound wire and hammered bolts, tied +knots and welded pieces of steel and fitted gears. They did not look at +each other or sing or whistle or talk or laugh. + +And then--he made a mistake. + +Instantly he stepped back and a trouble shooter moved into his place. +The trouble shooter's hands flew over the controls. + +The trouble shooter finished and the workman took his place. His arms +moved ceaselessly again. + +He was a tall man, slim and wiry, his dress identical to that of the +others--grey coveralls that fit like tights. + +Suddenly a red light flashed in his eyes and he began to tremble. He +took two steps backward. The trouble shooter moved into the empty space. + +The man stood for a moment, like a soldier at attention, turned and +walked smartly toward the mouth of a corridor. + +The silence was like a motion picture with a dead sound track. There was +only motion--and him walking down the line of machines where the hands +reached out, working, working. + +In the corridor now, he looked straight ahead, marching. The walls +glowed like water beneath a shallow sea. + +He raised his arm, felt the door strike and the heel of his hand; felt +it swing open; saw the desk suspended from the ceiling by luminous, +silver chains. + +A man with a massive, white-maned head and a pink, smiling face rose +from behind the desk. His suit was like that of a general. + +"Well, Twenty-three." The Superfather stared down at the dossier on his +desk. "Two mistakes in three months. Too bad. Just when you were on your +way to the head of the machine room." + +"I don't know what's the matter with me," said Twenty-three. + +"I'm afraid we'll have to drop you back to a less responsible position." + +"Of course." + +The Superfather looked up quickly. "You accept this? No depression? No +threat of suicide?... You _are_ in bad shape." He handed a packet of +cards to Twenty-three. "Put these in your dream machine tonight. Go to +your new job tomorrow." + +Twenty-three stood motionless, staring over the other man's shoulder. + +The Superfather sat down. "Tell me about the dreams you have when you +don't use the machine." + +Twenty-three made a quick decision. He couldn't tell him he didn't use +the standard dream cards anymore. And he certainly couldn't tell about +the _other_ dream cards he'd been getting from the little man he'd met +on the street. He'd simply answer the factual truth to the question that +had been asked. + +"Well," he said, as though he were confessing a crime. "I dream I'm +walking in the city. It's dark. I feel like I've got to find something. +I don't know what. But the feeling's very strong. All of a sudden I +notice the city's empty. There're just buildings and streets and a faint +glow of light. And it comes to me that everybody's dead and buried. Then +I know what I'm looking for. I've got to find something alive or I'll +die too. So I start running around, in and out buildings, up and down +streets. But there's nothing. I'm breathing so hard I think my heart's +going to burst. Finally I fall down. I feel myself beginning to die. I +try to get up but I can't! I try to yell! I've got no voice! I'm so +afraid, I can't stand it! Then I wake up." + +The Superfather frowned. "Incredible. Several other cases like yours +have turned up in the last month. We're working on them. But yours is +the worst yet. You had such high capabilities. Your tests showed, when +you first began to work, ten years ago, that you were capable of going +to the head of your production line. But you're not doing it. Also your +normal dreams should correspond to the ones on the cards. And they +don't.... Are you using the standard cards every other night?" + +Twenty-three lied. "Yes." + +"And the nights you don't use them, you have a dream like the one you +just told me." + +"That's right." + +"Incredible." The Superfather shook his head. "It just doesn't add up. +As you know, you get the prescribed dreams every other night and that's +supposed to condition your mind to dreaming those same dreams, by +itself, on the nights you don't use the machine. The prescribed dreams +merely show you the true way of life. And when you're on your own you're +supposed to follow that way of life whether you're asleep or awake. +That's what the dream machine is for. I'm sure you're aware of all +this?" + +"Yes," said Twenty-three. "Yes." + +"Now we Superfathers _never_ have to use the dream machines. We're so +filled with the way of life they advocate and it's become such an +integral part of us, we simply _are_ what our prescribed dreams are. And +the more successful a person is in the city, the less he has to use the +dream machine. Now you have to use it every other night. That's entirely +too much for a man of your potential. You realize this, of course. + +"Oh I do," said Twenty-three shaking his head sadly. + +"Well now," said the Superfather, "that means something's wrong. _Very_ +wrong." He rubbed his chin, thinking. "Your prescribed dreams show you +working faster and faster on the machines, going on month after month +year after year, with one hundred percent accuracy. They show you happy +in your work, driven by ambition on up to the end of your capabilities. +They show you contented there to the end of your working life." He +paused. "And you're _doing_ just the opposite ... I suppose your wife +is--concerned?" + +Twenty-three nodded. + +"After all, the marriage center assured her your index was right for +her. _Her_ sleep cards were coordinated with yours. The normal dreams of +both of you, without the machine, should be identical.... Yet you come +up with this horror--running through the city, alone, falling, dying." + +Twenty-three's mouth twitched. + +"Well." The Superfather stood. "If you can't adjust to normal, we'll +simply have to send you to the pre-frontal lobotomy men. You wouldn't +want that." + +"Oh no!" + +"Good!" The Superfather held out another packet of cards. "Use these +_tomorrow_ night. It's a concentration pattern which should be dense +enough to make you dream of being, well--perhaps even President, eh?" + +"Yes." Twenty-three hesitated. + +"Well?" said the Superfather. + +"I'd--like to ask a question." + +The Superfather nodded. + +"What--what use," went on Twenty-three, "is all this--work being put +to--that we do--along the machine lines--every day? We don't, seem to +really be _making_ anything. Just working." + +The Superfather's eyes narrowed. "You're kept busy. You get paid. You +live. The city is here. That's all. That's enough." + +"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Twenty-three turned abruptly, marched to the +door and stepped into the empty, silent corridor. + + * * * * * + +Twenty-three looked up at the glowing dome of the city that curved away +to the horizon. He wondered if there really was a white ball beyond it +sometimes and tiny dots of light, set in blue black. And at other times +did a ball of fire flame up there, giving light and heat and life? And +if there was this life and light up there, _why_ the great dome over the +city? _Why_ the factories and machine lines replacing it section after +section, generation after generation? The slabs that the workers fused +together this year and the next and the next, pushing back this life and +light and heat. Why not let it pour down into the city and warm all the +people? Why not go to the space out there and the depth and freedom? Why +this great shell that closed them away? For the sake of the Superfathers +maybe? And the Superfathers-plus? For the sake of the ones, like himself +maybe who worked and built? For the sake of them, so they wouldn't +become dangerous maybe and tear the great wall down and rush out into +whatever was beyond? Why else? + +But it could be all a farce. They could all be working in the great dome +because they didn't know what was beyond. Who could know if they'd never +been beyond? + +And so they were held under the domes with the buildings and the +machines that carried them all around in the city; held with the +plumbing and the theatres and all the intricate mechanisms that spoke to +them and fed them, that washed them and poured thoughts into their +minds, that healed them when they were sick and rested them when they +were tired. The same as they were held with the great dome. Held and +shackeled with the replacing of parts that didn't need replacing; the +making over and over again of the tiny and large pieces of the +mechanisms and the taking of the old mechanisms and the melting of them +or smashing of them to powder so that this dust or molten metal could be +fashioned again and again into the same pieces that they had been for so +many thousands of years. All this to keep them busy? All this to keep +something outside that was supposed to be destructive because once it +had been so five thousand years ago or ten or fifty? All this because +that was the way it had been for as long as the hundreds and the +thousands of years that history had been recorded? + +He walked on through the silence, dimly aware now of the people moving +about him, of the automobiles rolling past, as though moved by some +invisible force. He passed row upon row of movie theatres that called to +him with invisible vibrations. He turned away. + +Where was the little man? + +He stopped, moving only his eyes. After a moment, he saw the little man +step out of a shop-front and stand waiting. Twenty-three, a cigarette in +his mouth, walked over and asked for a light. The little man touched a +lighter to the cigarette, at the same time dropping a packet of cards +into Twenty-three's pocket. + +Twenty-three moved on. He felt the pounding of his heart. If only his +wife were asleep so he would not have to wait to look at these new +cards. + +As he walked, his thoughts cried out against the silence. He glanced +suspiciously from side to side. If only he could hear the sounds of the +city. But except for human voices and music, the city had always been +silent. The human voices spoke only words written by the Superfathers, +and the music came from records that had been composed by them--all this +back when the city had first come into being. Other than these sounds +there could be only the quiet all around. No chugging motors or scraping +footsteps. No crashing engines in the sky, or pounding of steel on +stone. No shrieking of factory whistles or clanging steeple bells or +honking automobile horns. None of this to pluck and pound at nerves, to +suggest that this place was not the most soothing and gentle of all +places to be in. There were no winds to swirl and moan away into the +distance. The chirp of birds had long since been stilled, and so had the +patter of rain and the crash of thunder. There must not be any of these +sounds either to lure the imagination into some distance where danger +and excitement might be waiting. + +Now he was walking toward the door of his apartment house. It swung +open. Thirty seconds later he stopped before another door. It too swung +open. + +His wife stood in the middle of the room, between two traveling bags. He +moved slowly toward her and stopped just out of arm's reach. + +"What's this?" He gestured toward the bags. "Where're you going?" + +She stared at him for a long moment, her face set. She was of his height +and build and wore a suit the same light grey as his. Their hair cuts +were identical, their faces sharp featured and pale. They might have +been brother and sister--or two brothers, or two sisters. + +"I'm going to the marriage center." + +"What for?" He had tried to inject surprise into his voice. But the tone +was listless. + +"The Superfather called about your dream." + +Twenty-three turned away, lighted a cigarette. He should beg her to +stay, should promise to change. But the silence was in him, like a +sickness. + +"A terrible thing's happening to you. I don't want any part of it." She +picked up the bags. "When you come to your senses, you know where to +reach me.... _If_ I haven't already made another contract, I _might_ +come back to you." + +She hesitated at the door. + +"There's one thing I don't understand. You haven't begged me to stay. +You haven't broken down. You haven't threatened suicide." She paused. +"It's standard procedure, you know. It might even make me decide to wait +awhile." + +"I don't want you to stay," he said. He felt a shock of surprise. It was +as though a voice had spoken from behind him. + +He watched the door shut between them. + + * * * * * + +Dressed in his pajamas, he stood beside the metal tube, in which for so +many years he had slept his regulation sleep and dreamed his regulation +dreams. There was something of the finely made casket about this +tube--the six foot length and three foot diameter; the lid along its top +and the dull shine of the metal and the quiet of it, as though it were +asleep and lying in wait for a tired body to bring it awake so that it +could put the body to sleep and live in the dreams it would give to the +sleeper. + +Beside his own tube stood its twin, where his wife had also slept and +dreamed through the years. + +Leaning slightly forward, he felt the press of metal against his hip +bones, felt the tube roll an inch with his weight. He rested one hand on +the metal top, felt its warmth and smoothness, was aware of its +cleanness, like that of a surgical instrument. + +Now he glanced at the glistening black panel that stood two feet high at +the tube's head; quickly checked its four illuminated dials and three +gleaming arrows and at the same time raised his hand to drop the cards +into the softly glowing slot at the panel's top. + +Suddenly his hand stopped. + +He bent forward. + +What was this? A feeling of strangeness. Vague. Like sensing some subtle +change in a picture that has hung for twenty years above the fireplace +in one's home. + +He drew closer, squinting. The dials and meters seemed to be the same as +they had yesterday and the day before and the year before. + +And yet? + +The dials. Larger? By a fraction? And the tiny gleaming arrows of the +meters. Barely longer? And the marks on the dials and meters? One extra +each, very faintly, like a piece of hair. + +He was very still for a long moment. Then he moved around the foot of +his own sleeping tube, pushed between the two and stood at the head of +the other one. + +He checked its dials and meters. They were as they had been for many +years. He stepped back to the panel of his own and pressed a button. As +the glistening metal top rose, silently, he ran his hand around the +yawning interior, felt the downy softness and the body-like warmth. Then +his hand touched a pliable metal plate. That should not be there. He +stood back, remembering the workmen who had come into the house that +morning for the routine checkup of the tubes. His wife had already left +for work and he had just stepped through the door when they had met him +in the corridor. They had gone on into the rooms and he had sensed +vaguely that something was wrong. Then he had put the feeling out of his +mind and gone to his work. + +Now suddenly, he turned to the illuminated four inch square panel above +the door, read April 15, 2563. The workmen had checked a day early. He +frowned. Either the Superfather had ordered the machine changed, which +was highly improbable, because every object in the city was standardized +and any change would upset the established order, or the workmen were +tied up with the man who had given him the different dream cards.... In +any event he had to sleep in the tube that night and he definitely +wanted to dream the dreams on the cards he had just gotten from the man +on the corner. + +He dropped the cards into the slot at the top of the panel, climbed into +the tube and pressed a button. The top closed over him, like a hand. He +lay still, feeling the warm clasp wash over his body. There was darkness +and silence and a cool motion of antiseptic air. He could try the first +dream. If it wasn't right, he could shut it off and sleep without +dreams. + +He pressed another button. + +Silence. + +The sound of his regular breathing. + +Then a sighing came into his mind, and a green haze. The sighing became +a soft breeze; the green, tree-covered hills rolling off to the horizon. +He relaxed, aware in a fading, sinking part of his consciousness that +the machine worked as usual. He would dream and wait and hope.... + +And so the wind was breathing across the land from off a vast stretch of +blue water, which broke along a sandy beach in foamy white breakers. The +surf thundered all through his body. The wind brushed against him like a +great, purring cat. He looked up at the blue sky and seemed to feel +himself rising and sinking, both at the same time, up into its depths. +As his sight touched the sun there was an explosion of brightness which +blinded him. He turned away then to the rolling green sea of hills, saw +the trees bending from the surge of wind and heard the rustling of +leaves. + +And then a deep voice moved through his mind. + +"Outside the city," it said, "all this exists. During the terrible +burning of the Earth back in the wars of its antiquity, the city was +built as a place of life for those who yet lived. But those people were +not aware that the Earth would come alive again and they made the city +so that no death could enter it from without and no life could escape +from within. And they turned away from the Earth and lived only with the +city so that it became their universe--to all but a very few of us. We +still held a faint awareness of what the Earth had been--this passed +down to us for many generations, in whisperings, by the wise ones of our +people, back in the beginning of the city. And in those times, we had +been in the city too long, for thousands of years. We knew that there +must be freedom beyond the walls, if we could get through. But the walls +were thick and high and without a flaw, making a sky over us. We worked +for five hundred years on a machine to get us through the wall. Now a +few of us have succeeded and more will follow us to the freedom out here +in the good land. There is room for everyone here, there are no +boundaries and no ceilings and no walls anywhere. And you may join us +some time in the near future, if you wish." + +Twenty-three sighed in his sleep. + +Now a great city faded into his mind. There were long, tree lined +streets and buildings, some built in rising spirals, some in spreading +squares, others in ovals, domes and curved half circles. The wind +wandered among the buildings and the bursts of green. People, dressed in +white, flowing robes or black tights, walked the streets. He could hear +their footsteps on the stone or grassy walk, could hear the hum of +vehicles rolling along the streets or flying through the air. They were +long and streamlined or short and round, or they were curved like +gondolas or squat like saucers. And they were moving at many speeds. Yet +there was order. And the air was sweet and clean. A black line of clouds +was rising across the horizon. Soon there would be lightning and thunder +and cool rain. + +The deep voice touched him again. "This is the city that can be. A city +of life, open to the sky and the earth, a city in which people can find +and follow their own lives. After the wars, the cities were built to +shut out the death of Earth. But the Earth has come to life again. And +so can the cities." + +The silence came while the picture changed and Twenty-three stirred, +waiting. + +A figure grew in his mind, wavered, and became a woman. Twenty-three saw +the long body and the softness; saw the flowing hair and the smile as +she watched him. He saw the gentleness in her face; saw a strength under +the softness, like the storm that lies below the charged quiet of a +summer evening. Her lips moved. + +"Paul. Dream your dreams for _us_." The words seemed to fall on him. He +trembled and cried out. And he felt a violent stirring in his body and a +breaking away as though he had flung himself through the walls of a +tomb. + +The picture blew away while the voice continued: "She is a woman, not a +woman who half resembles a man." A pause. "When you wish to leave the +city, ask for the final card. You are welcome." + +There was silence and darkness. Twenty-three stirred. He opened his +eyes. The glow from the city outside filtered into the room through the +translucent walls. He lay motionless. Paul. He was Paul. Not +Twenty-three. A man with a name. Wonder came into him, and a sense of +strength, and a willingness to remember without fear. + +His mind ran back to the first mistake, almost a year past. He +remembered the horror of failure then and the terror at his being +subjected to a mistake. He remembered the inference from the Superfather +that there might be a bad strain in his blood line. He remembered taking +the dream cards that were to have set him straight, that were to have +shown him working over the machines with super speed, moving up along +the production line to its pinnacle and on up to the position of +Superfather and on up to Superfather-plus and on up to the place of +Father of The City. But the cards had been sabotaged, so that from them +into his mind had come the dreams of the trees and the oceans and the +green earth spreading off to the horizon and the expanse of blue sky. + +And then the words had directed him to the little man who had given him +the cards on the street corner. They had known him, the words had said, +through what was called telepathetic screening, for ones suitable to +leave the city. He was one of those chosen, because he, like a few +others, had been unable to adjust completely to the demands of the city. +He was one of those in whom a rebellious nature had been passed down +from generation to generation, by attitudes and acts of his ancestors, +by a word spoken here and one there, by an intangible reaching out +toward the sky and the green growing things and the need to understand +who and what he was. But in him now this feeling was weak and close to +death and would die in him if it were not brought out into life of the +Earth. + +Now the memories receded; he lay motionless, listening to his breathing +and his heartbeat, feeling his body press against the softness that held +him. + + * * * * * + +Suddenly a shaft of light fell on him through the transparent square. +Opening his eyes, he saw his wife's face staring down at him. + +She moved her hand. The lid of the tube raised. He lay watching her, +feeling naked and, for a moment, helpless. + +"I talked for a long while with your Superfather," she said. "I feel +better. He told me you'd promised to take the prescribed dreams +tonight." + +Twenty-three turned his face away from her. + +She began to undress. + +"I'm going out for a walk." He stepped from the machine. + +She watched him dress, her look a mixture of curiosity and fright. + +When he left it was as though he were leaving an empty room and she +watched him as though he were not quite human. + +The glow of the city was all around him as he walked toward the corner +where the little man stood. The telepathic advertisers reached out from +the places of entertainment, pulling at him. The voices enveloped him +for a moment so that he almost turned back to them. But then he saw, in +his mind, his arms working over the machines, saw them make a wrong +motion that smashed a gear, saw the flashing red light and the heavy, +expressionless face of the Superfather. He was aware that his memory +would be erased and the skies, and the ocean, and the green hills. His +name would be gone. Paul would die. And the city would be his tomb. + +Quickly he turned down a side street, saw the small figure leaning +against the corner of the building. + +Walking rapidly toward him, as though he were being chased, he saw the +lean, ruddy face smile and the deep, blue eyes look at him; heard the +voice gently say: + +"Welcome, Paul." + +"The last card," said Twenty-three. + +The little man handed it to him, quickly. "Good luck. Turn the dials one +extra point on the control panel. Our men have made the machine ready. +It's time now." + +Twenty-three thrust the card into the inner pocket of his jacket. So +that _was_ it. They _had_ changed the machine. + +"One extra point," he repeated, glancing up and down the street. + +"And remember," said the little man. "Destroy all the cards you've used +before. They were designed particularly for you. If you don't make it +across to us, the Superfathers will use the cards against you." + +Twenty-three whirled around. The little man had gone. Twenty-three +suddenly felt weak. My God! The other cards! Left in the machine! If his +wife--! + +He stood very still for a long moment, then he ran! + +The door to his apartment swung open. The room beyond was empty. A light +shown faintly. He stood for a moment, listening. Silence. He stepped to +the bedroom. The top of his wife's sleeping tube was closed. He could +see her face through the transparent square, could hear her quiet +breathing. + +In one quick, silent motion, he stepped to the side of his own tube, +pulling the last card from his pocket, and dropped it into the glowing +slot at the top of the black control panel. Then he turned the dials to +the extra point. + +Several minutes later he pressed the button at the bottom of the control +panel. The top opened. At the same moment, he heard a step behind him. +He whirled around. The Superfather stood in the doorway. At his back +hovered the dark bulks of two other men. Twenty-three felt his muscles +lock. He saw the Superfather's dead smile and then his wife stepping +down to the floor and hurrying to the side of the Superfather. + +"Those pictures," she said, shuddering. "They were so--strange." + +The Superfather held his eyes on Twenty-three but spoke to the woman. +"Thank God you were strong. It was commendable of you to call us." + +"I don't know what made me look at his dreams," she cried. "Maybe it was +when I asked him if he'd taken the prescribed dreams and he didn't +answer.... Anyway, I tested his machine. It was insane!" + +"Dreams made by some twisted mind," the Superfather said. "Remember. +They've no real existence. Nothing lives or moves outside the city. +There were old myths but they've been dead for countless generations." +He paused. "Where _are_ the pictures?" + +"I burned them." + +"Good." He motioned to the men behind him. They came forward and stood +on each side of Twenty-three. + +"Twenty-three," said the Superfather, "we may have to erase your +memories and your present individuality." He cleared his throat. "Our +records show that some two thousand people have disappeared in the last +five years. Your case has much to do with it.... Where'd you get the new +cards?" + +Twenty-three was silent. + +The Superfather pulled out a pack of cards. "Before we leave this room, +you'll be a different man. If you tell us,"--he waggled the cards in his +right hand--"this'll be your new life. You'll have dreams of outdoing +every man on the machine lines and fix your body so you'll have the +capacity to do it. You _will_ do it. You'll become a Superfather. You'll +burn to excel them. You'll push on up, become a Superfather-plus. You'll +work with ideas, ways of increasing efficiency, pushing the workmen +faster and faster. And you'll find ways of conditioning them to meet the +greater and greater demands for speed. The city and people'll be at your +fingertips. There'll be rooms of marble and gold for you. Soft carpets +and buttons to push that'll give you any desire instantly. You'll _have_ +everything and _be_ everything!" He paused and took a deep breath. "All +this'll be yours if you'll tell us where you got the cards, without +forcing us to probe your mind with the electric-scalpel...." + +With an effort, Twenty-three raised his eyes to the Superfather's face. + +"And if I don't tell you?" + +"Moving a lever back and forth twice a minute hour after hour, year +after year. Living in a bare cubicle. No entertainment. No desires." He +paused. "And no _memories_." + +Twenty-three looked over the Superfather's shoulder. The last card, he +thought, is in the machine. Escape from the city. They said that, from +outside. I've got to know. No matter what they put in the machine, that +card will show first. Even if it's only for ten seconds or thirty or +sixty, or however long--I'll know. + +"No," he said, "I won't tell you...." + +The woman gasped and hid her face. The Superfather, scowling, made a +motion. + +The two dark men took hold of Twenty-three. They lifted him into the +tube. + +The Superfather dropped the second pack of cards into the panel and +pressed the button. The top closed silently, like a mouth. + +Twenty-three's eyes closed; his body waited. + + * * * * * + +For an instant--blackness, and silence, like a moment after death, or a +moment before birth. Then twilight, or dusk, over an ocean. A sky of +pale blue. A shine on the gently surging waters. A scent of clean air. +Sea spray. The cool sound of wind. + +Then a man's voice, deep and flowing: "You know that there is no +entrance or exit to this city. It is sealed off and will always be so. +But the dream machine in which you lie has been changed by our agents +inside the city. The last card you dropped into it is different from the +others. These changes have been made so your dream will become a +reality. Your mind will be transmitted to us here among the hills and +under the trees and by the ocean. And a new body, that we have grown, +artificially, from all the elements, a body like the one you will leave +behind, will be waiting for you. You need not be afraid." + +Twenty-three felt himself moving forward. Sight and hearing and +sensation, without a body. Time dropping away, like a forgetting of +yesterday and tomorrow. There was only this moment. And then he felt the +great humming surging power of the machine, like an ocean rushing him +toward some unseen shore. He was caught in a gigantic tingling shock +wave, and felt like a tremendously outsized torch, lit and flaming, and +carried, still burning, in the green tide of sizzling electricity. The +machine screamed. The machine chanted. The machine raved. Dimly, he +heard his wife cry, and above him felt the Superfather scrabbling at the +machine, the guards shouting. The machine shrieked and the great tidal +wave of power jolted and flung him, white-hot kindling, through air, +through sky, up and down! Down upon a white shore, upon creaming sands, +leaving him to quiet, to silence, to a pulling away of the tide.... + +Now the scent of sea came strong into him. He heard the crash and roar +of surf and the rustling of leaves and the sweep of wind. There were +bird songs and the cries of animals. He saw the spread of rolling hills, +saw a stream searching its way among great rocks and swelling and +rolling full into a river and the river flowing and sinking into the +sea. He felt the earth upon his feet and the touch of grass. Breezes, +heavy with green from the land eddied all around him and filled his body +and washed him. He heard his name--saw people coming toward him saying, +"Welcome." He felt their arms, embracing him. He saw an open city +growing among the hills. Its buildings rolled away with the hills of the +Earth and became a part of the Earth. The people took him by the hand +and led him toward it speaking to him of no one hurting the other, and +no one locked in a cell and all the walls of this world outside, tumbled +down.... + +He was happy and repeated the name they spoke to him. + +"Paul." + + * * * * * + +Back in the city, in the room, the wife cried out. + +The Superfather, too, seeing the strange look on the face of the man +inside the chrysalis of the dream-maker, quickly touched the button that +raised the lid. He bent down and took the wrist of the cold man lying +there. + +"Dead." + +"Are you sure?" + +The Superfather bent still further down and listened to the chest, and +the wife came close, and they both stood there, half-bent. The mouth of +the dead man was open and the Superfather listened for any faint whisper +of breath. The wife listened. They both looked at each other for a long +time. + +Because, from the open mouth of the cold man lying there, faintly, far +away, and fading slowly into silence, they heard quiet laughter, and the +sound of many birds and voices, and trees rustling in the late +afternoon. Then it was gone and no matter how the two people bending +there waited and listened, it was like putting their ear to a white +stone. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Perchance to Dream, by Richard Stockham + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PERCHANCE TO DREAM *** + +***** This file should be named 32859.txt or 32859.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/8/5/32859/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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