New Storm-Clouds
In order to press on to more crucial events, I shall not linger
over my first few months as Dictator. Clad in the magnificence of
my new office, I dwelt in a spacious suite of rooms with palatial
adornments and scores of attendants; I enjoyed the applause and
veneration of millions who bowed before me as before a god; my comings
and goings were heralded with blasts of trumpets and the rattle of
military trappings; I held court daily on the throne of Thuno Flâtum,
decided matters of public policy and law and issued orders which,
theoretically, could be disobeyed only under pain of death.
Nevertheless, not all flowed smoothly. To begin with, there was the
secret opposition which I had to face. Both the Second Class and the
Third had accepted me readily enough as sovereign in the absence of
Thuno Flâtum and never so much as inquired why Thuno remained so long
on his vacation; but the First Class, it appeared, had not been trained
to an equal degree of thoughtlessness, and hence could not accept me
so unquestioningly. Many were the murmurs of complaint that came to
my ears; it was muttered that "Luma the Illustrious" was not really
"First of the First Class," as he claimed to be; that, indeed, he was
not First Class at all, but came of plebian birth. In proof of this
blasting accusation, it was pointed out that Luma was too healthy to
be First Class; that his limbs were not shrivelled enough and he could
actually walk long distances, like any Third Class nobody; that his
natural eyesight was good, his ears useful without hearing tubes, and
his lungs capable of functioning without artificial aid; while he was
neither bald nor toothless, as every "green-blooded" aristocrat should
be. In other words, he was a mere undistinguished interloper, without
noble lineage or antecedents.
So persistent did such complaints become that I finally resolved on
desperate measures, and secretly instituted a drive against the First
Class. One by one the worst offenders disappeared from home, to take
up their lodgings in some remote cell; and only after detectives had
thus disposed of five hundred trouble-makers did the other First Class
citizens appear to agree on the wisdom of holding their tongues.
Thereafter all who questioned the legitimacy of my rule did so strictly
in private; and the First Class was as open as the two other classes
in acknowledging me as lord supreme.
Meanwhile I was having other difficulties, due to my zeal to remedy
certain evils. While living as Second and Third class citizen, I had
observed scores of things which had seemed in need of reform; and I now
set about, as energetically as I could, to better the condition of the
people. But how obstinately the people objected to any betterment!
For example, there was the matter of the "scootscoots." Having been
shocked at the innumerable accidents, which cost hundreds of lives
each day and more than once had nearly terminated my own existence, I
set about to establish a system of traffic rules. These were really
what we of the Overworld would consider simple and reasonable: that
all "scootscoots" keep to the right of the road, that green and red
lights be installed to guide traffic at intersections, and that no
"scootscoot" be permitted to travel faster than two miles a minute.
Yet what an uproar was created by these innovations! It was found,
indeed, that wherever the new rules were applied, the death-rate fell
more than ninety per cent--but what did this mean to the speed-hungry
chalk-faces?--nothing--less than nothing!
"Luma interferes with the rights of private property!" cried the
affronted people. "He seeks to destroy individual initiative! He
attacks our ancient freedom to do as we wish with our own property!
If a man owns a 'scootscoot,' why can't he drive it any way he wants?
Traffic laws are confiscation!"
Against this uproar it was impossible to make any headway. The new
rules were violated almost as a matter of principle; people would risk
fine and imprisonment sooner than submit. Bootlegging on the traffic
regulations soon became a popular sport; men would openly boast of
having offended, and violations became so frequent that, in disgust,
I abandoned the law, and the people, with shouts of joy, returned to
their old round of injuries and "turnovers."
* * * * *
Equally saddening were my experiences with the new food and clothing
laws. Remembering my earlier observations, remembering how the Third
Class had often been ragged and hungry and how vast quantities of good
food and clothes had been consigned to the furnaces, I decreed that
henceforth excess commodities should be distributed to the poor. But
alas--what a blunder this was! The outcry over the traffic rules was as
nothing compared with the storm of protests that greeted my latest move.
"What! Give the excess to the poor?" howled the First and Second
Classes in an indignant chorus. "Encourage shiftlessness and indolence?
Reward improvidence and laziness? Overturn that good old economic rule,
'He who has most shall give least?' Did our fathers give to the poor?
Did they not burn their excess? Then why depart from their time-honored
rule? To change now would be to insult their memories!"
Most vigorous of all, however, were the protests of the National Food
Producers and the United Clothing Manufacturers, Unlimited.
"Your Excellency should realize," they wrote me in an open letter,
published in both the _Blare_ and the _Screamer,_ "that the profits
of business and consequently the prosperity of the nation depend upon
a scarcity of the vital commodities. So long as there is scarcity,
people will pay high prices and stockholders will reap huge dividends;
but as soon as abundance occurs, prices will sink and dividends
will correspondingly wane. This is, you will agree, an intolerable
condition, and should be avoided by every means at our disposal.
Accordingly, we recommend that you repeal the law forbidding us to burn
surplus products."
Naturally, I paid no heed to this appeal; but I knew that I was
treading on dangerous ground. From the First and Second Classes came
renewed groans and rumblings of discontent, which, despite all the
efforts of the police, I could not suppress; while, to my despair,
I learned that hundreds of tons of food and clothing were still
feeding the flames each "wake," regardless of all my vigilance.
Worst of all, the Third Class--to whom I distributed vast amounts of
commodities--were unsatisfied with what I gave them and clamored for
more in such a grumbling, discontented chorus that I had almost more to
fear from them than from the other classes.
Yes, hard and bitter, hard and bitter is the path of a Dictator! Before
a few months were over, I began to wish I had not launched forth on my
new career.
To make matters still more serious, resentment at my other reform
measures was almost equally heated. Thus, there was the order against
adulteration of the air-supply, which brought down on me the wrath of
my old employer, the Ventilation Company; there was the rule raising
the military age of children from six to eight, which sent legions of
patriots fuming to my palace in protest; there was the law that spies
must receive a trial before being executed--which provoked widespread
denunciation on the ground of its "sentimental weakness"; and there
was the enactment taxing the First and Second Classes no less than the
Third--which almost led to armed rebellion before, in self-defense, I
withdrew it and restored the good old conditions, in which only the
Third Class paid taxes.
Yes, hard and bitter was my path as Dictator! And, after the first half
year, it was to grow harder and bitterer still.
But before I tell of my further public difficulties, let me mention
one private vexation. This was in connection with my good old friends,
Professor Tan Trum and his daughter Loa.
For a long while, I had been out of touch with this estimable pair, and
I had hoped that, in my new rôle as "Luma the Illustrious," I would
be able to elude them entirely. But such was not to be. One day, when
delivering a public address in my throne-room, I chanced to notice
two familiar faces among the front ranks of spectators, and I saw how
a certain fat and bewrinkled lady was nudging an elderly man, while
pointing at me in excited recognition. Alas!--even my amber spectacles
and whitened face had not saved me!
It was only a few "wakes" later when Tan Trum, accompanied by his
daughter, paid me a visit. In view of their many past kindnesses, I
could not refuse them an audience, as I would have liked to do; but I
foresaw that I was to have a difficult time. And, indeed, they were to
make things more than difficult!
* * * * *
After congratulating me on my rise, which they ascribed to the training
I had had at their hands, the Professor approached a delicate subject.
Judging from the ogling glances which Loa cast me, and the admiring
light in her little salmon eyes, it was all too evident that she,
magnanimous creature, was willing to forgive me for past rebuffs!
"How happy your success makes me, my dear boy!" enthused Tan Trum,
wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "How very happy! A
great burden has been removed from us all. You need no longer be
debarred--er--debarred from lifelong bliss. Loa has been faithful to
you, my boy!"
"Yes, I have been faithful!" echoed the blushing damsel, with her
wrinkled face downcast.
"We well realize your position, my dear friend," continued the
Professor, beaming upon me in apparent unconsciousness of my growing
consternation. "Weighed down by cares of State, you have had no time
to pay us a visit. Besides, it would be unseemly for a man in your
high position to visit our humble quarters. To be sure, you might have
summoned us here, but perhaps you hesitated, fearing to shock us too
greatly. Is that not so, my boy?"
"Yes, that is so!" I groaned.
"You see, Loa," the Professor went on, turning in a congratulatory
manner to his daughter, "you see what a considerate lover you have! I
always said that you were lucky, my dear. Yes, you are lucky, both of
you! I wish you many, many happy years, blessed by--"
In desperation, I was ready to clutch at any straw. Remembering my last
escape from the persistent pair, I interrupted Tan Trum hastily.
"But have you forgotten, Professor? Have you forgotten? Don't you
recall the eugenics test?"
Both my visitors smiled upon me benignly, as one might smile at the
recollection of sorrow outlived.
"Of course, we recall!" testified Tan Trum. "It was one of the great
griefs of our life. Poor Loa! How she wept! I actually feared for the
girl's health. It was seven wakes before she began to show a normal
interest in her wrinkles again!"
"I didn't care what happened to me!" added Loa, looking up with a
demure twinkle in her eye. "Since you were lost to me, it didn't seem
to matter if I lost all my fatness. But now, of course, my dearest, all
that is over!"
"Yes, now, thank the gods, all that is over!" piously echoed the
Professor.
"I don't see quite how," I replied, weakly, while a stabbing sensation
seemed to take me at the heart.
"Why, it's all as plain as light," declared Tan Trum, still smiling.
"Be more cheerful, my dear boy! Since you are now a law to yourself,
what do you care about eugenics? You can declare yourself eugenically
fit, and who will dare to contradict you?"
All at once, as I realized the truth of these words, I felt a profound
regret at having become Dictator.
"To be sure, your former disbarment was valid enough," rambled on the
Professor, while in Loa's eyes I caught an adoring flash. "Having no
military ancestry, you naturally weren't qualified to become the father
of a family. But now that you are in a high position, your sons won't
have to go out to fight and be turned over--"
I do not know how or why--perhaps it was the Professor's reference to
fighting--but at this point an idea leapt into my head.
"All that is true," I broke in. "I have, as you declare, no fighting
ancestry. Therefore, before assuming domestic responsibilities, I must
justify myself in my own eyes, if not in those of the people. I have
decided that before I can--er--before I can accept my happiness, I must
go forth to the field of honor. Tomorrow I lead the army to battle!"
This decision, though reached this very moment, now seemed unalterable
and final--my one hope of escape.
Both the Professor and his daughter looked downhearted.
"Oh, but that isn't necessary, my dear boy!" frowned the former. "You
have too high a conception of honor!"
"Why, it's unheard of! The leaders of the country never go forth
to fight!" pleaded Loa, beginning to pout a little. "Their place
is to make others fight! Their own lives are too valuable to risk
being--being turned over!"
"What do I care for the risk, when my country's welfare is at stake?" I
demanded, vaingloriously.
And then, firmly entrenched in my new decision, I repeated, "Tomorrow
I go forth to the field of honor! Upon my return I shall send for you
both. Meanwhile kindly give my regards to Tan Tal, Moa, and Noa."
As the tall form of the Professor, drooping a little gloomily, left the
audience chamber side by side with the rotund figure of his daughter,
I still did not know that I had done more than to postpone the
inevitable; nor had I any intimation of that whirlwind of events which
was to make this my last meeting with Tan Trum and his family.