universe--to all but a very few of us. Westill held a faint awareness of what the Earth had been--this passeddown to us for many generations, in whisperings, by the wise ones of ourpeople, back in the beginning of the city. And in those times, we hadbeen in the city too long, for thousands of years. We knew that theremust be freedom beyond the walls, if we could get through. But the wallswere thick and high and without a flaw, making a sky over us. We workedfor five hundred years on a machine to get us through the wall. Now afew of us have succeeded and more will follow us to the freedom out herein the good land. There is room for everyone here, there are noboundaries and no ceilings and no walls anywhere. And you may join ussome time in the near future, if you wish."
Twenty-three sighed in his sleep.
Now a great city faded into his mind. There were long, tree linedstreets and buildings, some built in rising spirals, some in spreadingsquares, others in ovals, domes and curved half circles. The windwandered among the buildings and the bursts of green. People, dressed inwhite, flowing robes or black tights, walked the streets. He could heartheir footsteps on the stone or grassy walk, could hear the hum ofvehicles rolling along the streets or flying through the air. They werelong and streamlined or short and round, or they were curved likegondolas or squat like saucers. And they were moving at many speeds. Yetthere was order. And the air was sweet and clean. A black line of cloudswas rising across the horizon. Soon there would be lightning and thunderand cool rain.
The deep voice touched him again. "This is the city that can be. A cityof life, open to the sky and the earth, a city in which people can findand follow their own lives. After the wars, the cities were built toshut out the death of Earth. But the Earth has come to life again. Andso can the cities."
The silence came while the picture changed and Twenty-three stirred,waiting.
A figure grew in his mind, wavered, and became a woman. Twenty-three sawthe long body and the softness; saw the flowing hair and the smile asshe watched him. He saw the gentleness in her face; saw a strength underthe softness, like the storm that lies below the charged quiet of asummer evening. Her lips moved.
"Paul. Dream your dreams for _us_." The words seemed to fall on him. Hetrembled and cried out. And he felt a violent stirring in his body and abreaking away as though he had flung himself through the walls of atomb.
The picture blew away while the voice continued: "She is a woman, not awoman who half resembles a man." A pause. "When you wish to leave thecity, ask for the final card. You are welcome."
There was silence and darkness. Twenty-three stirred. He opened hiseyes. The glow from the city outside filtered into the room through thetranslucent walls. He lay motionless. Paul. He was Paul. NotTwenty-three. A man with a name. Wonder came into him, and a sense ofstrength, and a willingness to remember without fear.
His mind ran back to the first mistake, almost a year past. Heremembered the horror of failure then and the terror at his beingsubjected to a mistake. He remembered the inference from the Superfatherthat there might be a bad strain in his blood line. He remembered takingthe dream cards that were to have set him straight, that were to haveshown him working over the machines with super speed, moving up alongthe production line to its pinnacle and on up to the position ofSuperfather and on up to Superfather-plus and on up to the place ofFather of The City. But the cards had been sabotaged, so that from theminto his mind had come the dreams of the trees and the oceans and thegreen earth spreading off to the horizon and the expanse of blue sky.
And then the words had directed him to the little man who had given himthe cards on the street corner. They had known him, the words had said,through what was called telepathetic screening, for ones suitable toleave the city. He was one of those chosen, because he, like a fewothers, had been unable to adjust completely to the demands of the city.He was one of those in whom a rebellious nature had been passed downfrom generation to generation, by attitudes and acts of his ancestors,by a word spoken here and one there, by an intangible reaching outtoward the sky and the green growing things and the need to understandwho and what he was. But in him now this feeling was weak and close todeath and would die in him if it were not brought out into life of theEarth.
Now the memories receded; he lay motionless, listening to his breathingand his heartbeat, feeling his body press against the softness that heldhim.
* * * * *
Suddenly a shaft of light fell on him through the transparent square.Opening his eyes, he saw his wife's face staring down at him.
She moved her hand. The lid of the tube raised. He lay watching her,feeling naked and, for a moment, helpless.
"I talked for a long while with your Superfather," she said. "I feelbetter. He told me you'd promised to take the prescribed dreamstonight."
Twenty-three turned his face away from her.
She began to undress.
"I'm going out for a walk." He stepped from the machine.
She watched him dress, her look a mixture of curiosity and fright.
When he left it was as though he were leaving an empty room and shewatched him as though he were not quite human.
The glow of the city was all around him as he walked toward the cornerwhere the little man stood. The telepathic advertisers reached out fromthe places of entertainment, pulling at him. The voices enveloped himfor a moment so that he almost turned back to them. But then he saw, inhis mind, his arms working over the machines, saw them make a wrongmotion that smashed a gear, saw the flashing red light and the heavy,expressionless face of the Superfather. He was aware that his memorywould be erased and the skies, and the ocean, and the green hills. Hisname would be gone. Paul would die. And the city would be his tomb.
Quickly he turned down a side street, saw the small figure leaningagainst the corner of the building.
Walking rapidly toward him, as though he were being chased, he saw thelean, ruddy face smile and the deep, blue eyes look at him; heard thevoice gently say:
"Welcome, Paul."
"The last card," said Twenty-three.
The little man handed it to him, quickly. "Good luck. Turn the dials oneextra point on the control panel. Our men have made the machine ready.It's time now."
Twenty-three thrust the card into the inner pocket of his jacket. Sothat _was_ it. They _had_ changed the machine.
"One extra point," he repeated, glancing up and down the street.
"And remember," said the little man. "Destroy all the cards you've usedbefore. They were designed particularly for you. If you don't make itacross to us, the Superfathers will use the cards against you."
Twenty-three whirled around. The little man had gone. Twenty-threesuddenly felt weak. My God! The other cards! Left in the machine! If hiswife--!
He stood very still for a long moment, then he ran!
The door to his apartment swung open. The room beyond was empty. A lightshown faintly. He stood for a moment, listening. Silence. He stepped tothe bedroom. The top of his wife's sleeping tube was closed. He couldsee her face through the transparent square, could hear her quietbreathing.
In one quick, silent motion, he stepped to the side of his own tube,pulling the last card from his pocket, and dropped it into the glowingslot at the top of the black control panel. Then he turned the dials tothe extra point.
Several minutes later he pressed the button at the bottom of the controlpanel. The top opened. At the same moment, he heard a step behind him.He whirled around. The Superfather stood in the doorway. At his backhovered the dark bulks of two other men. Twenty-three felt his muscleslock. He saw the Superfather's dead smile and then his wife steppingdown to the floor and hurrying to the side of the Superfather.
"Those pictures," she said, shuddering. "They were so--strange."
The Superfather held his eyes on Twenty-three but spoke to the woman."Thank God you were strong. It was commendable of you to call us."
"I don't know what made me look at his dreams," she cried. "Maybe it waswhen I asked him if he'd t
aken the prescribed dreams and he didn'tanswer.... Anyway, I tested his machine. It was insane!"
"Dreams made by some twisted mind," the Superfather said. "Remember.They've no real existence. Nothing lives or moves outside the city.There were old myths but they've been dead for countless generations."He paused. "Where _are_ the pictures?"
"I burned them."
"Good." He motioned to the men behind him. They came forward and stoodon each side of Twenty-three.
"Twenty-three," said the Superfather, "we may have to erase yourmemories and your present individuality." He cleared his throat. "Ourrecords show that some two thousand people have disappeared in the lastfive years. Your case has much to do with it.... Where'd you get the newcards?"
Twenty-three was silent.
The Superfather pulled out a pack of