Leo P. Kelley

Here is another look at the America of tomorrow—by a
Wilkes College sophomore, winner of the 3rd prize in IF's
College Science Fiction Contest.... An America in which
there is no more school, no more art, no more enterprise,
no more intellectual pursuit—a nation of hedonists.
And in such a land, how could there be malcontents?

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, February 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

The girl's body was small, slender, and perfectly proportioned. Her hair had been dyed platinum and was drawn back from her face by a mesh net which sparkled with red jewels. She stood in the middle of the room, head tilted back, eyes closed, moving in time to the music coming from an invisible transmitter. Her hands glided sinuously up and down either side of her body. She seemed oblivious to the people circling the room enjoying Gil Patton's party. It was only when she heard Brant's voice that she opened her eyes.

"Lisa, you go for that stuff, I see," Brant called to her, referring to the music being piped into the room from one of Dreamtown's many Sensory Communications Centers.

"It's really out of this world, Brant, way out, all out!" Lisa replied. She came over and sat on the arm of the chair in which Brant sprawled.

"You can feel it way down here," she said, and placed her hand on the pit of her stomach.

"Wonder how we ever got kicks out of that old stuff that you couldn't feel?" Brant asked as he placed his arm about Lisa's waist. "Just hearing music doesn't give you any glow."

Brant slid farther down in the chair and stretched his legs out before him. The bluish light in the room glinted from the highly polished surface of his knee length boots. He wore loose-fitting yellow trousers and a black suede shirt split open almost to the waist, revealing his chest.

"Have you tried one of Gil's new pebbles?" he asked Lisa.

"No, what's new about them?" she asked. She wriggled into Brant's lap and rubbed her cheek against his chest.

"They're slaughter. Instead of just getting a deeper feeling from real experiences, you can sit back and imagine something—anything—and you can feel the sensations of your fantasy. You can feel all that way down here, too," he said, touching, in repetition of Lisa's gesture, the pit of her stomach.

"Get me one, Brant. Let's see what goes."

Brant lifted Lisa to her feet and rose from the chair. His boots clicked against the green metal floor as he pushed his way through the crowd of merry makers toward a transparent glass bubble which was suspended from the ceiling by a silver chain. He pushed back the dispenser on the bubble and a cylindrical pill rolled out onto his hand. He carried it back to where Lisa sat swaying to the music which continued to fill the room.

"Here child. This will really give you a dream," he said as he handed her the pill.

Brant watched Lisa sink into the half coma that the sensation pills produced. He leaned over and kissed her shoulder. Then he straightened and moved across the room to where Gil Patton stood in front of a glass wall which afforded a panoramic view of the entire city.

"Good party, Gil," Brant said to his host.

"I hoped it wouldn't be sad. Anything clicking?"

Brant pointed to Lisa. "She is. Been trying your new pebbles."

"How's the Assistant Director of Sensory Communications doing these days?" Gil asked as they walked across the room to a plastic table on which rested bowls of red, green, and yellow liquors.

"Right and light. We've got a new show scheduled to go on the Distributor Cable in about another month. Runs twenty minutes two times a day. Morning and night. A serial about the Council."

Gil turned to Brant with a drink in his hand. "Thought nobody knew anything about the Council except that they run Dreamtown."

"No one does know very much about them. No one's ever seen them actually. But we've heard rumors that the Rebels have been influencing some of our citizens and word has come down to build this show for morale purposes."

"Why, that's crazy. Who'd want to go back to the way it was before? Those Rebels are out of their heads!"

Brant smiled. "Right man. But there are still some of them operating in the less populated areas. The Watchers brought in seven men and a woman last week from somewhere south of here. They found books in their hideout and even some paintings that one of the Rebels claimed to have done by hand."

Gil whistled through his teeth. "You'd think they'd get with it and come back here. What are they getting out of this rebellion?"

Brant reached over and touched Gil's arm.

"Just between us, friend. Before they psychwashed these Rebels they found out that they had been plotting with other Rebel groups to overthrow Dreamtown. The Council has every available Watcher on their trail."

"Couldn't ever happen, Brant. They don't have anything to fight with. Books. Pictures. They'll wise up and come over to us. Wait and see."

Brant shrugged. "They forget we're living in 2054 and the Big War's been over for nearly seventy years. They still think the old way was pretty good. But Gil, boy, we're getting serious. Let's stack it! The Watchers will get them. It's not our problem."

The girl was gazing through one of the windows in the small farmhouse kitchen. A wild flower was pinned in her long, auburn hair and it matched, almost perfectly, the blue of her eyes. Even in slacks she was, not beautiful, but a wonderfully pretty girl of twenty four or five.

"I wonder when he'll be back, Dad. It's been almost two days and I—I'm worried."

"He had a long trip to make, Nancy. Longer than usual because he had to make a detour around Dreamtown in order to get down to Ben's group. It's all of forty miles south of here. Don't you worry. He'll be back soon."

The girl came away from the window and kissed Professor Alan Corbett on the forehead. "You're wonderful, Dad. So calm and sensible about things. I get scared though when I think of Dan going so close to Dreamtown. The Watchers patrol for miles around the city and they'd know Dan was a Rebel in a minute because of his clothes."

"Dan won't get caught, Nancy. You get busy now and make some coffee and stop worrying," Professor Corbett smiled. "And afterward we'll play a little gin rummy if you feel like it."

Nancy got up from the table and put the coffee pot on the stove. Her father turned back to the book lying open on the table before him.

"This is such a treasure, Nancy. I wonder if you fully realize it." It was a copy of the complete works of William Shakespeare. "There are only five copies of this still in existence to my knowledge; although there is a man in Ben's group who has been copying it by hand on paper they've stolen from Dreamtown. Only five copies. There might be more, but we haven't been able to find them."

Nancy poured steaming coffee into her father's cup and then into her own. She sat across from him at the table and watched as he lovingly examined the book in his hands.

"Listen to this, Nancy."

Nancy listened to Professor Corbett's quiet voice.

"It's beautiful, Dad."

Nancy watched her father as his eyes scanned the rest of the page. "You love books, don't you?" she asked softly.

Her father looked up and took off his glasses. "Yes, Nancy, I guess I do. Teaching in the University was the greatest thing in my life because I was able to spend so much time with books. And, you know, in a way, they weren't just books, they were like old friends. Socrates, Aristotle, Chaucer, Shakespeare—all the others. Every time I picked up one of those books it was like meeting old friends. And you never really get tired of old friends, you know. As the years go by they become dearer to you and you learn to appreciate their true value." Professor Corbett smiled a little sadly. "Nancy, it almost broke my heart when the Council abolished the schools and colleges and burned the books. That was the reason I joined the Rebels ever so long ago. And, of course, there were many others who felt as I did."

Nancy sipped the hot coffee and watched her father drift into his reverie about the old days before there had been a Council or Watchers and when Dreamtown had really been just what the name implied. A dream city of books and learning and hard working men and women trying to put a civilization back on its feet after the disastrous Big War. Nancy thought of the kind of dreams that were dreamed in the city now. Dreams of pleasure and sensation. Empty dreams. Vapid dreams.

"Do you know what the Council set up in place of the schools, Nancy? They built the biggest and brightest and most terrible playgrounds in the world. Children were taught to fight and to play; and the ones who fought hardest, regardless of rules, were considered the champions in each playground. They didn't bother to learn anything; they just played...." His voice trailed off.

Nancy and her father drank their coffee in silence, each of them alone with their thoughts. Professor Corbett was back in his University classroom filled with the smell of chalk and the musty odor of books, and Nancy was out in the dark night somewhere with Dan, making the perilous journey to Ben's Rebel group.

A sudden sound on the porch shocked both of them back to reality. Professor Corbett quickly dropped his book into a drawer of the table, rose and walked past Nancy who stared at the door with a mixture of hope and fear on her face. A soft knock sounded and, after a moment's hesitation, Nancy's father unbolted and opened the door.

A tall young man wearing an old pair of blue jeans and a shirt from which most of the buttons were missing stood in the doorway.

"Dan!" Nancy shouted and ran across the room and into his arms.

His huge frame almost filled the doorway, as he bowed, his blonde head to murmur reassurances to Nancy, who cried with relief at having him safely back.

"I'm alright, darling,—but I'm afraid I've got bad news," Dan said. He released Nancy, keeping one of her hands in his. When the three of them were seated Dan spoke.

"The Watchers must have gotten Ben and the others. The place was a shambles. Everything was destroyed. They probably took the group to Dreamtown. If they did, you know what that means."

"Psychwashing," Professor Corbett muttered. He dropped his head in his hands. "Then you couldn't get the books?" he asked sadly.

"No. They had been burned. And so had Ben's paintings. We can't wait any longer, Alan. We've got to organize and we've got to raid Dreamtown. We can't go on like this anymore!"

Nancy tightened her grip on Dan's hand as Professor Corbett raised his head and nodded. "You're right, Dan," he said. "We can't afford to wait any longer."

With a slight hum the large video panel in the ceiling of Brant's apartment clicked on automatically. To the accompaniment of shrill laughter in the background, the announcer told Brant and the other viewers that they were about to witness the next installment in the adventures of "The Pretty People." Brant stretched in his bed and groaned from the effects of the party the night before. He watched through half closed eyes as The Pretty People in their harlequin costumes chased each other about a meadow filled with artificial flowers. In spite of his discomfort Brant chuckled when Mannequina, with a violent blow, knocked Manequin from a large toadstool on which he had been seated. He laughed again as he watched Manequin roll down a hill and land in a giant mud puddle at the bottom.

Brant eased himself out of bed and walked unsteadily to the cubicle in one corner of the room, stepped in, and closed the plastic door behind him. He rubbed his eyes and stretched as the soothing vigoro-senso rays removed the last traces of the discomfort brought on by too much liquor and too many sensation pills.

Back in his room he switched on the dimensional theater set and watched the wall light up before him. Brant finished dressing to the sounds of laughter coming from The Pretty People on the ceiling video and the sighs and pleadings of two lovers in the dimensional theater set.

On his way to the door Brant selected one of the milder sensation pills from the bowl on the low table, swallowed it, and passed through the sliding door panel into the street.

He glanced at the gigantic clock which was suspended over the city like a cloud in the sky by thin steel cables. Each numeral on the huge face of the clock was composed of a man and a woman locked in an ardent embrace.

Brant and several other people boarded one of the moving platforms as it stopped before them. The city sped by in a vari-colored blur. At the main Sensory Communications Building Brant got off. The building loomed massive before him, its rose plastic exterior warm looking in the sunlight. Brant, with another glance skyward at the clock, went inside.

He walked briskly down the jade hall and entered an office labeled Assistant Director of Sensory Communications.

Lisa, seated behind a desk, greeted him. "We've got sun this morning, Brant. Have a good time last night?"

"Had a ball, doll! You look great this morning." Brant said. "Benton in yet?"

"Waiting for you," Lisa replied. "Told me to send you right in."

Brant turned and entered the inner office of Axel Benton, Director of Sensory Communications for Dreamtown.

Benton looked up and frowned as Brant entered. "The show on the Council has to go on two weeks earlier," he fairly shouted at Brant. "The Minister of Entertainment called this morning and he's hot! Says the Council is having a fit about the increase in activity among the Rebels; and rumors have been leaking out that they're planning to destroy Dreamtown. So they want the show on sooner. Also, they want a half hour show instead of twenty minutes."

"Nobody cares what the Rebels are doing and it's crazy to think they could destroy the city. So what's all the rush about?" Brant asked angrily.

"I figured you'd talk that way so I arranged a little session for you this morning that may bring you to your senses, bright boy Brant," Benton retorted. He barked into the intercom on the desk.

"Call downstairs and have them send up Jennings, Lisa," Benton ordered.

A few minutes later the door slid open and Jennings was led in by two of the Watchers. He was a middle aged man who wore spectacles instead of the contact lenses which nearly everyone in Dreamtown wore when they needed glasses. The two Watchers stepped aside. They were young men, neither looked more than twenty five, with eyes as brittle as glass. Their black leather pants and jackets fitted tightly and steel cleats on their heavy boots grated wickedly on the floor with each step they took. Their hands, in black leather gloves, rested casually on their hips close to the hypno ray guns fastened to their belts.

"Jennings," Benton began, "was found to be in possession of a book titled 'Principles of Human Knowledge' by George Berkeley. And Jennings, as you know, Brant, was in a strategic control position here in the Center. He was in charge of show censorship for the whole Com center.

"What do you mean, was in charge?" Brant asked.

"Just that! He is no longer in charge. In fact, he is being taken now by these Watchers to the psych lab but I wanted you to realize the seriousness of this thing, Brant, so I had him brought here first."

"He's going to be psychwashed?" Brant asked.

"Of course, you fool!"

"But why? Couldn't you just burn the book and throw him out?" Brant asked.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," Benton sneered. "The book he had is one of the most dangerous books ever written. It is against every principle on which Dreamtown is founded and if Lisa hadn't found it in his office—."

"Lisa found it?" Brant asked.

"Yes, and like the smart girl she is, she reported him to the Watchers right away." Benton motioned to the two Watchers and they stiffened immediately, seized Jennings who stared silently before him, and half dragged him from the room.

"I never would have thought it of Jennings," Brant said softly.

"That's just it! We can't be too careful," Benton said.

"Are you sure he was a Rebel?" Brant asked.

Benton's fist made a crashing sound as he brought it down on the desk. "Idiot!" he screamed. "What else could he be? No one but a Rebel would read such trash! Now get out of here, Brant. I want the format for the Council show finished in two days or you're going to find yourself in real big trouble! Seeing Jennings should wake you up and start you moving!"

Brant rose. "I see what you mean. You'll have the format."

"Good! We're bringing out a new sensation pill in a few weeks and we'd like to coincide the opening of this show with the release of the pill. Big promotion and all that. And, by the way, don't forget the show schedule for the annual Playground Festival."

Benton turned back to the work on his desk as Brant left the office.

Men and women were crowded into the smoke-filled living room of Professor Corbett's farmhouse, and conversations were being carried on in hushed whispers. Nancy stood talking to Dan. Professor Corbett was near them busily engaged in conversation with two women and a man whose clothes looked as if they had seen many years of hard wear.

Dan left Nancy and walked to the center of the room. His voice rang out vibrant and clear as he called for the attention of the gathered crowd.

"I believe we are all here now. If everyone will sit down we'll begin the meeting."

When everyone was seated Dan nodded to Professor Corbett.

"You all know by now," Professor Corbett began, "that Ben's group was discovered and probably destroyed. We've been able to find no trace of them. Things have been going pretty badly for us, friends, and that is why we asked you all to make the effort to come here tonight. For many of you it's been hard; you've come a long way. But we have to make a stand and we must make that stand together."

Applause greeted Professor Corbett's introduction and, after hesitating a moment, he continued.

"It is likely that Ben and the others were taken to Dreamtown and psychwashed. In the past few days we have received no word from Jennings either. It is possible that he has been found out and is unable to contact us. At any rate, we must operate on that assumption until we hear from him again.—If we do," he added solemnly.

Every eye in the group was fixed on Professor Corbett and every ear strained to hear each word he spoke.

"The Watchers have been patrolling an increasingly wider area around Dreamtown, which necessitates moving our outposts farther away. This will make communications between our groups more difficult, but it is a necessary maneuver. Another thing. Take your books and music and paintings and anything else which might give you away, and hide them in some safe place. It is most important that we preserve what we have left. It must not fall into the hands of the Watchers."

A woman in the group spoke. "We can't just keep running and hiding! We should do something!"

"That is exactly the reason I asked you here tonight," Professor Corbett replied. "Dan and I have formulated a plan and we submit it to you for your consideration, approval, and cooperation. Dan, will you explain what we have worked out?"

Dan rose and came to stand beside the Professor.

"First of all," he began, "we need four volunteers to go into Dreamtown, get jobs, and wait for the raid. These four people will have to be in strategic positions on the day we raid the city. Two of them will open the North gates of the city. One will dynamite the warehouses where the sensation drugs are stored. And the fourth must in some way gain control of the Watcher's barracks and arsenal."

There was excitement on the faces of the people who listened to Dan's words. They began to see a ray of hope and a course of action, and they leaned eagerly forward as Dan continued speaking.

"Our first target when we raid the city, will be the Council Building. If we can get control of the Council we have the heart of the city in our hands."

Two men stood up. "We want to volunteer to go to Dreamtown," they said. A woman rose and joined them. "If you can use a woman, I'd like to go too." Two other men volunteered, and there was much excited discussion in the small room.

Dan held up his hands and asked for quiet. "Since four men have volunteered," he said to the woman, "we'd best use them. And now, if those four men will stay here with me, the rest of you can leave. You will be notified of details by runner, as in the past."

The group broke up into smaller groups. Some went into the kitchen, where Nancy had prepared a lunch for them. Others prepared to leave for their own outposts.

Professor Corbett was talking to an elderly man who had been a scientist in one of Dreamtown's first laboratories.

"It's a copy of a research project done by a colleague of mine on the Relativity Theory. An astute paper, I'd say. I've been saving it for you," Professor Corbett told the scientist. "I have it hidden with most of my other books up on the hillside by the spring. Wait just a minute and I'll get it for you."

"Never mind, Dad," Nancy said. She had been passing and overheard her father's remark. "I'll get it. You stay here and talk. I know you're having more fun than you've had in months and I wouldn't see you spoil it for the world."

"But—," Professor Corbett tried to protest.

"Hush, now. Be back in a jiffy," Nancy said as she slipped out the door into the darkness outside.

Professor Corbett and the scientist continued talking. Others joined them and the discussion became heated. It touched on science, art, literature, and many other topics that had been important and common in the old days. A few minutes passed and Dan joined the group.

"Where's Nancy, Alan?" he asked.

Professor Corbett turned to Dan to explain Nancy's errand when the sound of a shrill scream from somewhere outside the house caused everyone to stiffen in fright.

"It's Nancy!" Dan shouted and sprang for the door. He wrenched it open and, as he did so, a burst of flame seared out of the blackness, missing him by inches. Another scream followed the first.

The people in the room were galvanized into action. Professor Corbett ran to a chest in a corner of the room. He unlocked it quickly and handed a ray gun to Dan. He distributed guns to most of the other men. The guns had been smuggled out of Dreamtown by Jennings and others over a period of years. Soon men were stationed at every window of the house firing out into the blackness.

"It's the Watchers!" a woman shouted.

"Be careful of your fire," Dan yelled, "they've got Nancy!"

The firing continued, while Professor Corbett and some of the others struggled to smother a fire that had been started by a blast from a Watcher's ray gun.

"I'm going out after them!" Dan shouted.

Professor Corbett grabbed for Dan in an effort to stop him, but he was too late. The Professor left the others to battle the fire and raced after Dan.

As he stumbled along in the darkness, he could barely discern Dan's figure racing in the direction from which the shots had come. There was no firing now and the hillside was quiet. Dan had stopped, and Professor Corbett joined him in the darkness. Both men looked frantically in every direction.

"There's no trace of them. They got away, Alan. We held them off, but they've taken Nancy with them!"

Professor Corbett put his arm around Dan's shoulder. His eyes filled with tears and he gripped Dan tightly. For a few seconds neither of them spoke and then Professor Corbett turned to Dan.

"We'd better go back to the house."

The two men turned and walked slowly back to the farmhouse where the others still battled the fire.

Lisa and Brant walked down the street toward the Playground.

"Benton liked your script for the Council show, Brant," Lisa said as they walked along.

"It was a hard card to handle, I'll tell you," Brant said. "No one actually knows anything about the Council. We don't even know how many members there are. It was hard trying to get enough information to fill the show time, so I just reworked the old stories about the Council and added a few new ones."

Lisa slipped her arm through Brant's. "I'm proud of you, honey. It must have been good to set Benton hopping like that. What'd you put in it?"

"Just said the Council was Dreamtown's protector, provider and producer. Said the same thing twenty times in twenty different ways; but didn't answer any of the real questions about the Council."

"No one asks any questions, Brant. Who cares how many men are on the Council or how they operate? So long as we have our flip food and parties—who cares? You worry too much."

Brant laughed and patted Lisa's hand. "You're right. Jennings worried too much and look what happened to him!"

They continued down the street, standing aside once as a group of Watchers in semi-military formation passed them. As they turned a corner they saw the solid red wall that surrounded the Playground rising in the distance.

"Will you be able to get the information you want here, Brant?" Lisa asked.

"If they let us in," he replied.

"I've never been in the Playground before, have you?" Lisa asked.

"Once. A long time ago when it was first put into operation, but they say things have changed a lot since then," Brant replied.

A Watcher halted them as they approached the gate. Brant explained about coming to gather material for the forthcoming Playground Festival show and displayed his official Sensory Communications card. The Watcher directed them to wait and stepped into a booth at one side of the gate. Brant and Lisa saw him talking to someone on the video phone. A moment later he returned, unlocked the gate, and motioned them inside. Once in, they were met by another Watcher who led them down a long hall to a door at the far end. The silence of the hall was in direct contrast to the cacophony that met their ears as they stepped through the door into the Playground.

Children of both sexes and of every age and size filled the Playground. Nearly all were shouting at the tops of their voices. Scattered among the group were men and women dressed in the briefest of costumes. Some participated in the children's games, but most stood and watched, in rather stony silence, the activity before them.

From one of the small buildings within the Playground, a young man walked toward Lisa and Brant. The Watcher stepped aside as he approached.

"I am Kirk Rodson," the man said to Brant and Lisa. "Director of the Playground. Can I help you?"

Brant introduced himself and Lisa to the man, and explained their purpose in coming to the Playground.

"I see," Rodson said. "There's not much to tell. Children are brought here immediately after birth and are cared for in our laboratories. Their instruction in walking and talking is accelerated by specially trained personnel. As soon as an infant learns to walk he is released into the Playground with the others for a specified time each day. He is fed a specially prepared diet. As he grows older, he is left in the Playground for increasingly longer periods of time in order that he may adjust to its demands."

"When do the children leave here?" Brant asked.

"The program of the Playground is arranged to accommodate children until they reach the age of eighteen," Rodson answered curtly.

"What generally becomes of the children then?" Lisa asked.

"Most of them become ordinary citizens. The best of the male group are trained as Watchers. The females usually join a breeder group. It is only the elect, with the highest qualifications, that can fill either of these positions."

"Who are those men and women out there with the children?" Brant asked, staring out into the crowded Playground.

"They are some of the older ones who work with the children. Those young men are joining the Watchers when they finish here."

Brant, Lisa, and Rodson watched as one of the leaders called sharply to a curly headed boy who had been playing with a pretty raven haired girl. The boy leaped to his feet at the sound of his name and raced to where the athletic young man stood. The man pointed to a group of two boys and a girl who were engaged in a tussle on the ground before him.

Brant and Lisa repressed their surprise as the boy quickly leaped into the melee and, by virtue of his superior strength and size, beat the two boys and the girl until they fled before his brutal blows. The boy stared after them a moment and then returned to the man whose directions he had followed. Rodson laughed a short harsh laugh as the man slapped the boy's face and sent him sprawling in the dust.