Yes, Jeff was a perfectly ordinary boy. So George reassured himself as they went for walks or rides together over the Island’s rather restricted terrain. They would talk as sons and fathers had done since the beginning of time — except that in this age there was so much more to talk about. Though Jeff never left the Island, he could see all that he wished of the surrounding world through the ubiquitous eye of the television screen. He felt, like all the Colonists, a slight disdain for the rest of mankind. They were the elite, the vanguard of progress. They would take Mankind to the heights that the Overlords had reached — and perhaps beyond. Not tomorrow, certainly, but one day. They never guessed that that day would be all too soon.
18
The dreams began six weeks later.
In the darkness of the subtropical night, George Greggson swam slowly upwards towards consciousness. He did not know what had awakened him, and for a moment he lay in a puzzled stupor. Then he realized that he was alone. Jean had got up and gone silently into the nursery. She was talking quietly to Jeff, too quietly for him to hear what she was saying.
George heaved himself out of bed and went to join her. The Poppet had made such nocturnal excursions common enough, but then there had been no question of his remaining asleep through the uproar. This was something quite different and he wondered what had disturbed Jean.
The only light in the nursery came from the fluoro-paint patterns on the walls. By their dim glow, George could see Jean sitting beside Jeff’s bed. She turned as he came in, and whispered, “Don’t disturb the Poppet.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I knew that Jeff wanted me, and that woke me up.”
The very matter-of-fact simplicity of that statement gave George a feeling of sick apprehension. “I knew that Jeff wanted me.” How did you know? he wondered. But all he asked was:
“Has he been having nightmares?”