ing his long fingers toward the living
room.

"Oh, yes," said the woman. "Of course, Mr. Loveral." And as she spoke
Loveral had the impression she might suddenly begin crying.

Loveral followed the woman into the house, noticing all over again the
precise way everything had been arranged. The rug was soft beneath his
feet, and the light came in through the windows in such a way that it,
too, became soft. The furniture, molded to hold a human body most
comfortably, rested about the room in perfect efficiency.

"Your place is so lovely," Loveral said, out of his old habit from
Earth. But his words seemed to ring strangely in the quiet, because it
was his own arrangement, like all the other rooms on the planet. And
Mrs. Atkinson, standing thin and nervous before him, had nothing, after
all, to do with it. The cleanliness was the work of his robot machines,
the planning his own. It was like complimenting himself.

He cleared his throat and stood, smiling his most benevolent smile to
reassure Mrs. Atkinson.

"Ah, my dear. Is George about?"

Again, the woman's hand skittered to her throat.

"He's not ill, surely?" Loveral asked, although this, too, was silly,
because foods, selected and prepared for utmost nutrition, packed
and frozen to be doled out in weekly quantities, purified air,
disease-killing serums, simply written folders on exercise, and of
course Loveral's own philosophies of quiet, peaceful living--all of this
guarded well the health of Dream Planet's flock.

The woman shook her head. "No, George is fine. He's just--sleeping, I
think."

"Rest is nature's finest tonic," said Loveral, and hearing his voice
thought suddenly there was hardly anything he could say any more that
might not sound a bit out of place in this peaceful world. Rest to the
man who had nothing to do ceased to be a tonic.

"Yes, yes," said Loveral. "May we just sit down, my dear?"

Mrs. Atkinson jerked a hand toward one of the chairs and then wound her
fingers.

Loveral sat down and leaned back, smiling his most charming smile.
"Perhaps George might awaken after a bit?"

"Oh, yes," the woman said, her eyes flickering, and she sat upon the
edge of one chair, like a bird perched upon a thin wire.

Loveral waited, legs crossed, leaning his head back against the silken
softness of the chair. It was so good to relax these days. The business
of watching and of caring for his flock was trying. When you have
brought an entire community