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.