pleased, drive as fast or as slowly as he would (and could, of course).
If he wanted to do anything as vulgar as spit in the street, he could
(but they were his streets now, not to be sullied) ... cross the roads
without waiting for the lights to change (it would be a long, long wait
if he did) ... go to sleep when he wanted, eat as many meals as he
wanted whenever he chose.... He could go naked in hot weather and
there'd be no one to raise an eyebrow, deface public buildings (except
that they were private buildings now, his buildings), idle without the
guilty feeling that there was always something better he could and
should be doing ... even if there were not. There would be no more
guilty feelings; without people and their knowledge there was no more
guilt.

A flash of movement in the bushes behind the library caught his eye.
Surely that couldn't be a fawn in Bryant Park? So soon?... He'd thought
it would be another ten years at least before the wild animals came
sniffing timidly along the Hudson, venturing a little further each time
they saw no sign of their age-old enemy.

But probably the deer was only his imagination. He would investigate
further after he had moved into the library.

Perhaps a higher building than the library.... But then he would have to
climb too many flights of stairs. The elevators wouldn't be working ...
silly of him to forget that. There were a lot of steps outside the
library too--it would be a chore to get his bicycles up those steps.

Then he smiled to himself. Robinson Crusoe would have been glad to have
had bicycles and steps and such relatively harmless animals as bears to
worry about. No, Robinson Crusoe never had it so good as he, Johnson,
would have, and what more could he want?

For, whoever before in history had had his dreams--and what was wrong
with dreams, after all?--so completely gratified? What child,
envisioning a desert island all his own could imagine that his island
would be the whole world? Together Johnson and the Earth would grow
young again.

No, the stars were for others. Johnson was not the first man in history
who had wanted the Earth, but he had been the first man--and probably
the last--who had actually been given it. And he was well content with
his bargain.

There was plenty of room for the bears too.

Transcriber's Note:

This etext was produced from _Fantastic Universe_ August 1957.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence