I suppose it was partly my fault that the Adam-Two business very nearly
got out of hand during the next few days. In the first place, I was
at a loss to know what to do about him, and in the second place I was
sweating day and night over the blankety-blanked Annual Report for the
Council of Uncles, who were due to arrive the following week. I hated
paper work, with the result that I usually got caught short and had to
compress a whole year's work into the space of a few days.
The Council of Uncles, of course, wasn't really any such thing. The
title was just a nickname for the benefit of the Kids. Officially, they
were the Inter-Galactic Inspection Council of the Solar Committee for
Sociological Research. The purpose of the Committee was to find out
what people need to be happy, and the purpose of the Inspection Council
was to check around and see who was happy and who wasn't.
Some two hundred years ago, society had reached a kind of static
condition in the realm of scientific development. For the first time
in seven thousand years of civilization, Man was faced with almost
total leisure. And to his great surprise, he found himself no nearer
happiness than when he started. And so a crusade had begun; Man decided
at last to turn his knack for research and development inward upon
himself. Scientists began to ponder and experiment with the questions
that had plagued philosophers for ages.
The coming of Automation had relieved men from the burden of working
for a living, and left them with a choice between cultural pursuits
and pure recreation. Which should it be? A good deal of rivalry, some
friendly and some otherwise, existed between the proponents of the two
major schools of thought. The intellectuals were dubbed "Highbrows,"
the pleasure-boys were known as "Happy Hooligans."
Mankind, the Highbrows contended, was still undergoing a kind of
evolution--a gradual transition from a purely physical or animal
existence to a purely mental or intellectual state. The machines had
released him from physical bondage--as they had been intended to do--so
that he might rise at last above his animal beginnings. Man could now
rise to undreamed-of cultural heights, or he could sink into the depths
of sensual degradation. The choice was up to him, but if he chose the
latter Nature might very well not permit him to survive.
Fiddle-de-dee, said the Hooligans. The trouble with Man was that he
has always insisted on pretending to be something he isn't, always
seeking some deep meaning and significance in life instead of relaxing
and enjoying it. Excessive doses of education and culture merely serve
to compound this felony, magnify his inferiority complex, and make him
thoroughly unhappy. Teach people how to enjoy themselves instead of how
to be miserable, they cried.
Fairyland was a sort of sociological laboratory for the Happy
Hooligans--a colossal, costly experiment that had been going on for
some forty-five years. It was designed to test the theory that most of
the misery in the world stems from the fact that kids are allowed to
grow up, to abandon their childhood dreams, to quit having _fun_. They
learn that there really isn't any Santa Claus, and they never quite
recover from the shock.
So far, the experiment appeared to be a successful one. Fairyland Kids
were happy kids, and they all believe in Santa Claus.
All but one....
* * * * *
On day-one of that ill-starred week, the merry-go-round on the Midway
broke down. Investigation disclosed that Adam-Two had found my tool kit
and had disassembled the remote-control drive mechanism to "find out
what makes it go."
He was placed on half-rations of Ice Cream for a period of ten days.
* * * * *
On day-two, Adam was discovered late at night, after Taps, in the
washroom of the boys dorm swearing in applicants for a "Question and
Answer Club." When questioned as to the purpose of this so-called club,
he refused to answer. His charter members, however, confessed eagerly.
The Club was to dream up among themselves a Question of the Week.
Questions were to be presented weekly to Mommy and Daddy and unless
satisfactory answers were forthcoming, the club members would refuse
to eat. The first Question of the Week was: Why are there two kinds of
Kids; boys and girls?
Adam-Two was placed on No-Dessert-at-Dinner for a period of one week.
* * * * *
On day-five, Adam was missing from his bed at Taps. He had not
registered to spend the night playing House in one of the cottages in
Pretty Park either, so I set out to find him.
It took me an hour and a half, but I finally located him on the far
side of the Golf Course. He was attacking the Great Wall of Fairyland.
The Great Wall, over a hundred feet high, surrounded the entire
Compound. It was encased in a pseudo-gravity field with a repellent
force of -3g and you could no more approach the Great Wall than you
could fly.
I watched in stunned amazement as Adam-Two, the Kid who despised
football, time after time took a running start, lowered his head and
charged at the wall like a varsity tackler, only to be thrown for a
five-yard loss.
When I gathered he had no intention of giving up until he dropped from
exhaustion, I walked over to where the G-field had thrown him after
his last lunge. "Adam, what are you trying to do?"
He stood up, breathing heavily, and brushed himself off. "I ... wanted
to see ... what was on the ... other side."
"There's nothing nice over there," I said. "It's a bad place. Fairyland
is a much nicer place to be."
"I wanted to see for myself." His voice was as devoid of emotion as his
face. "Why can't I get near the wall? What is it that throws me back?"
"The fairies have cast a spell on the wall," I said. "A magic spell,
because they don't want us to go to the bad place. They want us to stay
in Fairyland where we're happy."
Abruptly, Adam started off across the Golf Course toward the dormitory.
"Okay," he said quietly. "Okay ... Daddy."
Adam-Two was placed on Limited Midway Privileges for a period of four
days.
* * * * *
All of which gave me an uneasy and alien feeling of helplessness. My
self-confidence, based on twenty years' experience with the Kids of
Fairyland and before that five years' experience as a Space Scoutmaster
on Earth, was visibly shaken.
Adam wasn't just being ornery, the way most any kid is likely to be
at times. If it had been just that, the loss of privileges would have
remedied the situation. Neither was he actually malicious. He obviously
wasn't out to harm anyone, he was simply _curious_. Curious in a way
that was distinctly unhealthy for the rest of Fairyland. He was growing
up, and I didn't know how to cope with him.
So I wrote him up in the Annual Report.