: Out of Mind by Stuart William W Harman Illustrator - Science fiction; Short stories; Human-alien encounters Fiction; Life on other planets Fiction; Vacations Fiction; Hallucinations and illusions Fiction

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OUT OF MIND

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!

"Vacation trip to Nirva?!?" snapped Secad Screed--Galactic Sector Administrator J. Gomer Screed, a serious-minded man who rarely lost his temper. That was a pity; it was a lousy temper. "A mindless excursion, and completely outside my Sector at that! Woman, are both you and Garten out of your minds? Who do you think is going to run my administration with both Garten and I on a childish vacation to this absurd '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 and my prospects of promotion--after Depast Prinot and the others put in five solid weeks wrecking all my work?"

Secast Garten, short, a little chubby, the opposite of his chief grinned. He was seated out of the direct line of verbal fire, on a rock-hard hassock at one side of the barely furnished Screed apartment. He grinned, knowing what Secad Screed would do with a similar opportunity at Division Hq.

"Oh, now, dear," soothed Mrs. Screed, a mousey, chronically anxious little woman with five years experience as secretary and ten as wife in learning to soothe her husband. "Prinot is such a nice man. Don't worry so about things. Just put them out of your mind; they'll be all right."

"What?" Fifteen years experience she had soothing him, but she never did seem to get the knack of it. Or, perhaps, it was a matter of Screed's conscientiously refusing to be soothed, as a matter of discipline. A wife should know her place. Women being what they were, light minded, he felt it only fair that he should regularly point it out to her. He didn't want to spoil her. And he didn't either--unless it was in the matter of favoring her with his personal attentions weekly, 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 only 56, wedded to his work and dedicated to becoming more and more important. Mrs. Screed's position was, in a way, almost bigamous. She had a rich, full fifteen minutes every Friday, and what more could any woman want of life?

At the moment, this one imagined she wanted to take a vacation trip to some nonsensical, little known, semi-mythical dream planet that Garten--the fool!--had been telling her about. "Garten--"

"You are so right, J.G., so right. Give Prinot and those boys an inch and they'll be measuring you out for a grave with it, while they sharpen their knives. Half a chance and they'd foul up your whole Sector Administration. But--you know, sir, after five straight years on the job for both you and me, a five-week vacation is compulsory. We do have our orders."

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