The Project Gutenberg eBook of Paradise Planet This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. Title: Paradise Planet Author: Richard S. Shaver Release date: August 25, 2021 [eBook #66143] Language: English Original publication: United States: Greenleaf Publishing Company, 1953 Credits: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARADISE PLANET *** Paradise Planet By Richard S. Shaver It was a nice little world; everything about it reminded Steve of Earth--except for the people. They looked as human--as steel could make them!... [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy April 1953 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] It was a queer looking planet. As his ship approached it, Steve Donay could see slowly rising and twisting coils of strange smoke, brown and silver and gold, like great snakes or the tenuous flesh of some creature of the air. He hated to think of setting down on that world of surface fires. But what else was there to do? He was at the end of his supplies, there wasn't fuel enough to look further. Maybe not enough to land safely. But he had to take a chance. As he burst down through the coiling layers of strange smoke, the world beneath was amazingly beautiful. Wild, maybe, no--those were planted trees, those fields of grass were too regularly curved, too well laid out. He smiled. That brown stuff, he should have recognized it. It was weather control particles. He'd read about it somewhere. Magnetized particles. When you turned on the field, they gathered, shut out unwanted light. When you reversed, to negative field projection, they caused rain to condense. When you wanted the sun, they were swept aside by another repellent field ... he should have recognized them. This was luck, a really civilized world. He swept lower, his jets thrumming softly, reassuringly. Still perking, he could pick a good landing spot. There, beyond that huge tree group. And what trees they were. That meant an old culture, a good one. The temples crowning the hills, the peaceful meadows curving between, the lazy river--he caught his breath! This was a world, some place, indeed! He set the little ship down near the great trees, and tested the air. It was normal, as he expected. Not far away, on the edge of the meadow, was a house. It was a very nice looking farm house, with a tiny barn, two other small buildings, and a haystack. There were three cows, and a pen of hogs; a horse was in the barnyard. He left his ship and walked up the path to the door, marveling at the rows of flowers beside the path, and the neatness of the yard. No blade of grass seemed to grow out of place, no flower bloomed too boisterously. Even the birds in the trees seemed to partake of the discipline, singing in a soft and careful way, not to disturb the serene surroundings. Steve knocked, and almost at once the upper part of the door swung inward. He stared, for he had not seen a woman in nearly two years. Not a beautiful woman ... like this! Cinematic, glamorous ... he wondered if he wasn't in truth a little unbalanced from his long absence from humankind. No one could be quite that attractive! But when she spoke, something in his breast shrilled an alarm, and a chill ran up his spine. There was a brittle, edgy quality in her voice, like a crystal bell, yes--but a bell with a crack that was about to shatter. "Vey fanis vu?" she asked. He shook his head. "I'm from Earth, another planet. We can't understand each other, I suppose--not until I learn your tongue." She opened the bottom half of the door, and he walked into a room of quiet beauty. A large brown tile stove was nearby with a copper pot simmering, utterly spotless. * * * * * Pictures were set in the walls, strangely exotic, realistic art work. Leather chairs, a wide wooden table, unmarred by scratches and nicks, cabinets of clear crystal behind which glimmered rows of gleaming dishes and goblets.... It was like something from a Homemakers catalog--the home of the future. Yet there was a quality of timeless permanence in it all. It was as if it had been the same, unmoving, unchanged, and as if this woman had been poised at that door, waiting to open it for a visitor for endless centuries. She poured a bowl of steaming broth, and smiling, set brown bread and yellow butter before him. He sat and ate, wolfishly: he had been on a capsule concentrate diet for months. She sat by the big tile stove and took up yarn and needles, went on with the knitting of a garment as he ate. He turned his eyes away. They were, of course, little booties for a tiny child. That alarm in his breast had subsided, and he wondered what kind of idiot he had become to take alarm where such a home could exist. But nevertheless there was something, some brittle quality to the whole that he could not put his finger on. Some cold threat that he sensed but could not fathom. Yet ... there was nothing but that it was all too idyllic! Too prosaic--no strange planet could be so much like home. The weariness of the months of strain claimed him and he nodded in his chair, waiting. She got up and beckoned to him, and beyond the first door she opened was a chamber, a bed made on the floor of soft hand-made quilts, silken and lovely. He fell across the bed in a heap and she went out, closing the door softly. * * * * * Hours later he awoke, and darkness had come. He lay there, trying to remember what _She_ had been wearing, feeling a little pang of jealously that _She_ must have a man, must be knitting that mate's child's clothing.... She had worn some kind of clinging trousers, slacks--something ... and across her perfect bosom had been crossed two wide bands of white that ended in a girdle around her small waist. Her throat and the cleft of her breasts had had a sheen like mother of pearl, and her bare arms soft and lovely as two dreams. Dreams! He cursed a little. Too many dreams had tormented him, these last starving months, eking out his dwindling food supply, waiting for something to come ... some planet to appear in the endless black void where he could set his fuel-dry ship down and rest. The door opened, and she came in, carrying a lamp--a primitive thing with a tiny flame. She set it down and stood smiling at him, and there was a magic on her, in her eyes and on her bare graceful arms, in the lovely curves of her body under the clinging garment. Donay sighed. A man went to the stars seeking perfection, adventure, magic ... and when he found it, he found it was very like home, only better. It was like a perfect wife and a perfect farm and peace and contentment--bucolic magic--why had he left Earth? As he got to his feet, one foot slipped on the smooth tile floor and he lurched suddenly against her. His first thought was--"My God, her condition ..." but his second was a vague horror that began to grow in his mind. For her body was solid as a rock, unyielding. And the hand with which she seized his arm and steadied him was like the grasp of a pair of tongs of heavy steel! The more he looked at her perfection, the more his mind worried at the problem--_How can she be so beautiful and yet be made of metal ... yet be not human, yet be--yet be_.... His mind would not accept it--_yet be a robot?_ She could not be of flesh and blood like himself, not ... like that.... He shuddered, inwardly. The evening meal was a feast of berries and thick cream, fresh bread and the beautiful yellow butter, slabs of something fried ... fried ... he remembered, like panhaus, like scrapple--like the Dutch cooked. He ate and leaned back satisfied. Then she brought a heavy blue wine from a door he guessed was a cellar way, and he drank. And the wine opened his lips, and he asked, "How can we understand each other, strange woman of steel?" She smiled at the weird sounds of his mouth, and answered, "Ven nu da, uman. En nu see me." Somehow he knew what she meant. When he got to Heaven he would understand life, but not until. That seemed to be what she meant. She nodded, as if that was close enough. He wondered, that alarm in his breast tugging at his nerves, setting his eyes to roving for the jaws of the trap he felt about him. Days passed, and his wonder increased. It was like living in a mirror, or in an instant of frozen time. It was idyllic, yet ... nothing happened! The beautiful creature was alone here, with her few cows and animals; the garden and the cows produced her living. The cellar was full of stored food, and she seemed to possess everything one could want ... _except change_. One day was exactly like another. No one came. No one left. The smoky sky overhead coiled and uncoiled those odd clouds; the sun shone ... a large red sun, warm ... but not too warm. No one came. No one left. There was himself, puzzling, thinking. There was the calm woman, beautiful as a picture, busy as a housewife, making everything sweet and clean and comfortable for ... Steve Donay? _And Donay couldn't stand it._ Out there sat his ship, unharmed, unsmashed. All it needed was fuel. And he couldn't pull himself out onto that meandering road that went over the hill and look for the civilization behind this little farm house and this perfect ... robot. * * * * * It was then he gave up trying to learn her language. Gave up waiting for the neighbors, for contact with intelligent members of her race. She could not be a living creature, and she could not be even flesh. She must be some kind of maintenance robot ... and Donay shivered. What lay over the hill? If even the tiny farms of this world were peopled with maintenance robots, what wonders lay over the hill? Then he wondered where were the produce trucks to take away the milk, the butter, the fruit and vegetables? And even as he wondered, his feet took him at last out of the clutching beauty and peace and neat contentment of that little home. His feet led him along that road, winding over the hill. Looking back, he saw _Her_ standing in the doorway, the upper part swung open, her eyes even at this distance seeming blurred with tears. She waved one hand, a little gesture of farewell, and that snowy apron she wore over her strange spotless garments came up to her face. She was weeping! With a tug at his heart as strange as any emotion he ever knew, he realized the creature was weeping to see him go! But he made an effort, and his mind assured him it was but a trick of his own fleshly emotions, that that woman of the steel-hard lovely form was not able to weep, or to do anything but tend her cows and weed her garden and can her fruits and open the door to any knock that came. She must be a robot, his mind said. But his heart shouted--_She is woman, perfection in womanhood, and you are leaving your home!_ His feet led on, and he reached the top of the hill and sat down to look over the view that spread out beneath his eyes. There were other farmsteads, very like the one he had just left. Dotted here and there were herds of cattle. The whole land lay dreaming under his eyes, and he knew the mist of the far horizon only shut off a repetition of the same thing. But hope led him on, and he rose and went along a little used trail. Days, it took, to reach the city. The farmsteads lay dreaming as he passed, and he knocked on the lovely old wood of the doors sometimes, and asked for water or food. The upper door would open, and there would stand a woman. Not the same woman, but very like, too much alike--too much like his own first woman. She would smile and say: "Vey fanis vu?" He would shake his head, make a motion of drinking or eating and the lower door would open. He would enter and sit at the wooden table. The food was always perfect, sublime taste, simple fruit or milk or garden greens, or the fried panhaus, or sometimes a thing that looked like meat but he was sure was not meat for _She_ had never killed anything or possessed any meat. Then there were no more of the farmsteads, and he came across a great empty plain, where the trail was wide and the earth beaten hard as stone. But nowhere did he see the vehicles that had made that track. In the distance he could see the tall spires of a city. But there was no noise of a city. The tall spires seemed silent, and there was none of that smoke he knew a city should make. Above the spires coiled the weird spirals of the upper air, like great brown snake forms gestating and birthing and changing, entwined and unentwining, wreathing over each other and seeming to peer down at the strange midge crossing their plain. Steve Donay was puzzled trying to understand this planet. His feet plodded on across the grassy plain and he came to the first street of the city. There were people moving, and he went on eagerly for now he would learn the truth from real people! He went up to the first man he saw and asked: "I am a stranger, can you tell me...." The man said firmly, "Vey fanis vu?" Donay shook his head, and the man walked on, not swiftly, not hurriedly, but with a measured, machine-like step. * * * * * The city did not seem crowded, and there were some huge freight vehicles trundling along, not like autos, but like huge wagons with little motors where a man would ordinarily sit driving a horse. And there was no man driving them. "I am beginning to understand," Steve muttered, "this is a world of madmen, or simpletons, or robots. Why does no one act curious, or sympathetic, or human?..." He walked on, gloomily. Near the center of the city, many plodding hours later, he walked into the base of one of the great towers. There was a door he suspected was an elevator and he went in and pressed a button. It took him to the top. He got out and entered the first door he came to. A woman sat behind a desk. She said. "Vey fanis vu?" Donay said "Nuts," and slapped her face. She promptly rose from her seat and knocked him down. When he arose he found a man on either side of him. They gripped his arms with fingers of steel and led him from the room, back down the tower and out on the street. He gathered this was very unusual, for three different people along the way stopped to glance curiously at him. His face was very sore where the woman had struck him. She had a hand like a lead pipe. The men took him into a place just across the square from the tower he had entered. In and up the elevator and into a great chamber. Steve saw a very big bed. The person in the bed was very small. Very old, too. He said, "Vey fanis vu?" Donay shrugged dispiritedly and answered, "From Earth, and I don't like this planet of yours a little bit." The little man in the bed smiled a very human smile and reached out to a thing beside the bed and turned a knob. A glow came from the box, and Steve could suddenly hear a thought--"From Earth, eh? I wonder now where that would be if you could tell me." Startled, Steve thought where Earth was and the little old creature in the bed nodded. Then Donay asked, "Why does every one act so odd ... like robots, or like they were wound up and couldn't stop or change...." The old man sighed and leaned back. "That is a long story, stranger. Sit down and I will try to explain...." Donay sat down and listened. The thought in his head told him of a great world of people who had become very tired of everything and wanted to have something new. They did not want to die. They wanted life to be more satisfying, wanted to be more contented. The old man smiled sadly. "There arose among them a great scientist who promised them immortality and contentment. He had devised a treatment...." The old man leaned back and looked at Donay. His eyes were tragic. "That's what ails the people, Steve Donay. They're treated ... and the treatment did everything he said it would. It's really a new factor introduced into the human metabolism. You know something of chemistry?" Steve Donay nodded. The old man went on, wearily. "Well, you know how complicated the protoplasm molecule is, then. This change he introduced is only a new atom in the basic living molecule. As if, say, you're making pancakes and put in more shortening ..." the old man laughed. "When I make pancakes they swell up, like balloons. This is the opposite effect. The yeasty growth of life is changed, subdued, altered into a new pattern, by a single new ingredient in the chemical transversion in the body. The end product, the basic plasm-cule, is more stable, less affected by adverse conditions, a lot more durable. But it isn't what I call life! You've noticed?" Steve nodded. "They act like robots," he observed, sadly. "I'd like to get some fuel, get back to my own world." * * * * * The old man scribbled some notes on a pad, nodded. "They will synthesize your fuel. I'll put through a requisition for it. Now, they may ask you if you want the treatment. It's tempting, because it gives you a life cycle, from birth through fecundity to death, of around ten times the ordinary cycle. Almost immortality you would think. But I refrained, and now I'm the only one left of the old race. The new race is not flesh." "I'll refuse, too." Steve observed. "They pay for their long lives." The old man nodded sagely. "Things happen ten times as slowly, although to the eye they move as rapidly as before. The drive toward growth and progress is lessened by ten, to my eyes. They're satisfied to go on at the new slow pace." * * * * * "Stasified, you mean," Steve grinned. The old man smiled. "How come they made you their ruler?" asked Steve. "I'm not the ruler. They believe I am the only one capable of understanding you, a flesh man." Steve stood up. "What'll I do with myself while I'm waiting for that fuel order to go through?" "Look around, take in the sights. You can sleep here, there's an extra room in this suite. I'm lonesome, you can talk to me when you have time." Steve looked into the other rooms of the suite, came back to stand beside the old man's bed. The old fellow rang a bell, and one of the beautiful creatures came and looked in the door. "Our Earth visitor wants to take in the sights," started the old man, in the "Vey fanis vu?" language, but Steve understood because the thought augmenter was still switched on. "You get this memorandum onto a requisition slip and see that they make some fuel for his ship, so he can go back to his natural world. He doesn't like your new order any better than I do." The girl, who looked a brisk, efficient and ripe eighteen, beckoned to Steve. He followed her from the room. She closed the door softly, carefully, stood leaning against it, eyeing Steve. She murmured, "U seen yung to bay," but Steve shook his head, and she went ahead of him into another room. There was no one there, but one of the thought machines stood on a pedestal beside several other machines. She switched on the augmenter and Steve heard her thought, like slow, perfect music on a thrilling harp.... "You are here too short a time to judge what you like and dislike. Let me show you what the change has given us before you refuse a chance to be like us." Steve shook his head, murmured, "Not interested. Peddle it somewhere else." She appeared not to hear him. Her thought went on, inexorable, beautiful, without a ripple of irritation or haste: "The change was not brought about in a day, Earthman. Nor are we finished, ever, with attempts to make life more worth having. Our people hated the change, at first. Centuries passed before it was fully demonstrated to be a far more pleasant and satisfying way of life. You cannot judge this thing with ordinary standards. We accomplish just as much as before, without the frenetic hub-bub that we once thought necessary." Steve smiled, as if he owned a secret she could never see. "I'd rather be dead, than turned into a damned robot." * * * * * The girl moved toward him, her face pale and perfect as a prize rose. "Look into my eyes, foolish one ..." she whispered, and her thought in his mind was a bold invitation. He looked into the deep green-blue depths and he saw there real emotion, waiting to be borne into a consuming fire of passion. Her arms went around him, and though they were strong and hard arms, he did not feel that, for her lips touched his, and a shock of ecstasy ran through him so that he shook like a leaf in a breeze. Her thoughts plunged on--he had to listen--"You think we are dead robots because you do not see our life. You cannot see it, until you are one of us. Then it becomes quite clear, our life is more than before." Steve's thoughts, unlocked from sad introspection and loneliness, plunged suddenly into a swirl of desire. He could not help wishing to see her body without the sleek rippling film of silk. He could not help wondering if the bodies of these machine-like people were as perfect as their faces were perfect. She laughed as the machine augmented his inadvertent wish ... and she zipped down her side, tossed off the one piece jumper of silken stuff. She stood there, perfect and desirable. Steve flushed. "That wasn't necessary, baby," he heard himself say, embarrassed. "I couldn't help wishing." "More you can never have, while you are made of flesh. My arms would crush you, my lips burst your soft flesh lips. But if you underwent the treatment ..." she smiled. Her meaning was unmistakable, too much so and Steve flushed, guiltily. He heard his own thought on the augmenter, going on and on inexorably, against his own will: "There was a woman, the first I knew in this world. I stayed there too long. She wanted me, but we could not even speak. Somehow, I feel drawn back to her. And the thing that puzzled me, that terrified me ... she was knitting baby clothes, yet there was no man! No man ever came, there was only me. And I never even touched her, except by chance." The girl slipped her jumper on, zipped it up. Her face was suddenly grave, empty, and somehow sorry. Steve stopped thinking, listened to the augmenter and her thoughts. "Oh, no! I am sorry I intruded." Steve shook his head. He was trying hard not to understand the meaning of what he heard. It was like being led by the hand, like a child trying to break away from his mother's restraining hand. "What do you mean, you're sorry you intruded?" She smiled, a very peculiar smile, one of those female smiles that madden men so much, because they show him that sometimes women know things that men can never know. "You will understand one of these days, why I am sorry. I should have known. If I had looked I would have seen it in you already. It changes a man ... but you could not understand. It was inevitable. You were doomed when you set foot on this world." She laughed, and repeated, "Doomed, doomed," and she went out the door, a silvery laugh like a glass bell struck with a felt hammer. * * * * * Steve stood looking at the augmenter. He leaned over it, and his own thought beat back at him powerfully. "Go back, go back, or you will never escape! You will be another robot, with flesh like rock, and never again will the hot blood rush through your veins, never again...." But all at once he saw behind his own thought, and heard something deeper in his own mind, saying, "Go back, _she_ is waiting for you. The garden is waiting, the little house, the fields, the tiny barn, the tidy rooms, and her sweet perfection to serve you forever." Steve stood up and pounded his head with his fist, trying to knock out the sound of his own thinking. There was something here, something threatening and frightful, and he couldn't understand. He let the thought augmenter idle on, emptily bouncing his own thought about the room in magnetic waves of meaningless content, and peered at the other strange machines. There was one, a cabinet where a person could stand, with buttons like a shower stall. He stepped in, pushed a button and waves of force washed over him, set his body to tingling and shaking with the force of it. But what it was supposed to be doing, he didn't know. Beside it was upended a bottle with a spigot and a paper cup. It looked like water, and without thinking he took the cup, filled it, tasted the "water". It was not water; it tasted like peppermint, like licorice, like mint leaves and whiskey ... like quite a drink, he decided and drank it down. He took another cup, and another. His head suddenly whirled, and he staggered slightly. "Potent stuff to put in a water cooler," he grunted, putting out a hand to steady himself. For the stuff had set up a thrumming in his veins, a pumping in his heart, a rosy pulsation in his vision. If he wasn't drunk, what would you call it? he wondered. He tried a step, another, and after minutes his legs obeyed and he walked out the door. He stopped there, looking back. In this condition he would forget his own name.... He wondered what he had forgotten. Something he had left there.... He eased back, sliding his feet, bent over the augmenter to listen to his thinking. It beat up at him from the orifice like a strong wind in his face. It said, "You're going back, Steve, you are going back, to say goodbye properly to your host, the woman who waits and knits and waits and who wept when you left." Steve decided he was going back. They would bring the fuel when they brought it, or they wouldn't. But somehow right now he had to see that "Vey fanis vu?" female again, to make sure about something that puzzled him. Then his thought reminded him. "You forgot to switch off this thing, that's why you came back in." And he reached down and turned the knob; the pulse of his own strange deeper thought stopped, and he felt suddenly lost and his own mind blank. He moved back, turned, went out the door and heard a silvery laugh down the corridor as he staggered a little, trying to walk down the center of the corridor. "Inhuman things," Steve muttered. "They treat me like I was a kid with no sense, or something," and he went to the elevator, down to the street level, and so along the street, some sense of direction guiding his whirling mind. He knew where he was going. * * * * * One of the driverless wheeled wagons stopped beside him, the machine-voice of it said, "You may ride, I am going your way." Steve climbed on the back of the wagon, grumbling. "How'n hell do you know where I'm going? I don't." The wagon rolled off, not fast, not slow, its wheels bouncing slightly with the weight of its bales and boxes of cargo. Along the wide serene avenues it rolled, quiet, sure, straight as a train on rails. Steve nodded, closed his eyes, fell asleep. When he awoke, the wagon had stopped, someone brushed by Steve, took off one of the boxes. It was dark, the starlight was so vague he could not see where he was. The wagon started up again, rolled on. Steve slept, and dreamed that he had been changed into a glass statue, and placed on a pedestal in the square of his home town, back on Earth. People stopped and stared at the glass statue, giggling and smirking, and he hated it, but he could only stand there, his hand on his chest, smiling idiotically. He could hear the girls giggling, saying to each other, "Isn't he perfect? He doesn't know, he doesn't know." Steve stood there in the square and the traffic turned and honked and braked; the people stood and waited for the traffic lights, and looked at the glass statue, and smiled, as if he were a joke, a permanent joke. "He doesn't know," they would laugh, and the light would change, and the traffic move again. Hours later a hand touched his arm, but it wasn't a hard hand of steel. It was a soft human hand, and Steve's heart leaped with the guess: "Some of these people didn't undergo the change and formed their own community. So the crystallized people sent me to the natural people, and now I am among my own kind again!" The soft pink-tipped fingers grasped his arm, shook him gently, so gently, and Steve opened his eyes. The face in the darkness was vaguely familiar, but somehow all these people were nice looking. He eased himself off the back of the wagon, leaned against the body that belonged to the hand. A soft body, a woman's real body of flesh ... he thrilled to the touch, a deep satisfying revelation of humanity, of love, of natural human life, a home-like feeling. "So they didn't all change. There is a place here where they live like people ..." murmured Steve. "U fanis hane, O tu!" said the voice, a sweet voice, from a fragrant-scented person, a soft bodied woman-person.... Steve smiled sleepily. She seemed glad to see him. He followed her up a path, and into the warm pink light. A shock went through him. This was the same room! The same pictures built in the smooth wall, the same brown tile stove, sleek and clean as a new-washed baby. The same big comfortable leather chairs, and he grinned. "I'm hungry, Elvie," he said. "A hane to u, is eat," she laughed, and he knew she had spoken two words of his own tongue. He sat down, not weary, but somehow very glad to be back. "The thought machine," he asked, wishing he could ask her where they could find one; he wanted her to tell him something. She switched on a button in the wall, a button he had not seen before. Her thought came to him then. "I was so sorry I did not have one when you came. I ordered one, but they have to be made as there are not many in use. Now it has come, I can tell you. There is something you could not understand." "There's a lot of things you could tell me, that's a fact. It's so puzzling. They take me for granted. No excitement...." "That is because of prevision." Steve started. A shiver went through him, or was it a pulse of delight at the sudden knowledge of what was to come? "Prevision?" asked Steve, though he suddenly realized he knew the answer. "After the change, people came to know by experience that they could foresee the future, when they willed to see ahead. When you came, I knew what would come to pass." "Because they know what's coming, they didn't get excited?" Steve asked, his eyes on her sweet perfection, on her hands, setting the flowers straight in the bowl again, then going back to her eternal knitting. "That's why we seem like robots to you. Robots don't have to think about what's coming next. They know. They know because they are machines. We know ahead, too, not because it's built in us, but because we can deduce precisely how things are going to turn out. The penalty of increased mental activity ... see?" Her voice was gentle, but there was awareness of something in it, something he ought to understand, something she couldn't say. * * * * * Suddenly Steve saw it and sat up straight, his heart doing flip-flops. He could hear his voice and his augmented thought shouting together--"There's no man! You're alone here!" Her smile was heavenly, something like music that touched him inside. "Now you know," she said, and held up the tiny garment she had just completed. "It's for our first one." Steve leaned back, his worriment smoothing out into a strange beautiful prevision of their life, going on and on here.... He couldn't seem to get excited about Earth any longer. All the dreams of going back seemed to be dissolving in a warm flood of knowing--_he wasn't going back_! "This prevision can be fun," mused Steve, looking into her eyes. "You knew...." "I knew when your ship sounded overhead! It added up, because ... I don't know. When I saw you, then I saw the prevision had not been wishful thinking. It was you, the same man I saw ahead. So I began making the things...." "Why didn't you tell me?" Steve asked. "It wasn't that way. You had to go and see the city, undergo the change, want to come back. If you hadn't wanted to come back, why then I had made a mistake. But you came back, so ... but I knew all the time." "I knew too, but ... there was your knitting. I thought you must have a mate, that he must be away." "In the flesh state, people have prevision, but it isn't as accurate. Ours is usually accurate. Just a new faculty. One of several new faculties." "I suppose they will treat me?" Steve asked, but he knew. Gently she explained--. "In the city, the change is provided for. It is in the drinking water. Here, we have to take capsules. If we didn't we'd revert to the flesh state. No one wants to revert." Steve stood up. She moved into his arms naturally, and he knew he was home. He kissed her sweet face ... again. Her laugh tinkled softly, and the edgy, glass-like quality was gone from it. He was happy and he knew she was happy. He switched off the thought augmenter. "Let's pretend it's the first day ..." he said. She went and stood by the door, and he went out the door. He closed it and knocked. She opened the door. "Vey fanis vu?" she asked. Steve stood, adoring her, his eyes warm. "How can a guy be so dumb, not to know when he finds his own home?" he asked in English. "I wondered, Steve," she murmured, in English. She opened the lower door.... *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PARADISE PLANET *** Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. START: FULL LICENSE THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license. Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country other than the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided that: • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works. • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS. The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate. While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate. International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate. Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org. This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.