OUT OF MIND
By WILLIAM W. STUART
Nirva was a real bore. The food was
always great, the climate tediously
fine, the view monotonously lovely,
the girls relentlessly amiable.
But, oddly, everybody went there!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, May 1961.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"Vacation trip to Nirva?!?" snapped Secad Screed—Galactic SectorAdministrator J. Gomer Screed, a serious-minded man who rarely losthis temper. That was a pity; it was a lousy temper. "A mindlessexcursion, and completely outside my Sector at that! Woman, are bothyou and Garten out of your minds? Who do you think is going to run myadministration with both Garten and I on a childish vacation to thisabsurd 'Dream Planet' of yours?"
"Well—there is Deputy Assistant Prinot and—"
"Ha! And then what do you suppose would be left of my record here andmy prospects of promotion—after Depast Prinot and the others put infive solid weeks wrecking all my work?"
Secast Garten, short, a little chubby, the opposite of his chief(who looked like a deep-thinking, bald stork scheduled for deliveryof Siamese quintuplets in a typhoon,) grinned. He was seated out ofthe direct line of verbal fire, on a rock-hard hassock at one side ofthe barely furnished Screed apartment. He grinned, knowing what SecadScreed would do with a similar opportunity at Division Hq.
"Oh, now, dear," soothed Mrs. Screed, a mousey, chronically anxiouslittle woman with five years experience as secretary and ten as wife inlearning to soothe her husband. "Prinot is such a nice man. Don't worryso about things. Just put them out of your mind; they'll be all right."
"What?" Fifteen years experience she had soothing him, but she neverdid seem to get the knack of it. Or, perhaps, it was a matter ofScreed's conscientiously refusing to be soothed, as a matter ofdiscipline. A wife should know her place. Women being what they were,light minded, he felt it only fair that he should regularly point itout to her. He didn't want to spoil her. And he didn't either—unlessit was in the matter of favoring her with his personal attentionsweekly, at 11:30 p.m., each Friday.
This was big of him. She was lucky. Secad Screed was a big man,Administrative Officer in full command of a major sun system at only56, wedded to his work and dedicated to becoming more and moreimportant. Mrs. Screed's position was, in a way, almost bigamous. Shehad a rich, full fifteen minutes every Friday, and what more could anywoman want of life?
At the moment, this one imagined she wanted to take a vacation tripto some nonsensical, little known, semi-mythical dream planet thatGarten—the fool!—had been telling her about. "Garten—"
"You are so right, J.G., so right. Give Prinot and those boys an inchand they'll be measuring you out for a grave with it, while theysharpen their knives. Half a chance and they'd foul up your wholeSector Administration. But—you know, sir, after five straight years onthe job for both you and me, a five-week vacation is compulsory. We dohave our orders."
"Mf-f-f!" That was true and that was the rub. "But we don't have tochase off so far we can't keep an eye on things!"
"Of course, sir. Or—an idea you gave me just the other day, sir—withthe recent Truad activity over in Sector Y, we could put thiswhole system into an emergency invasion alert drill, sir. For theduration—of our vacation. Then every move Prino