Free Fun House by Benjamin Appel

“I’m dreaming,” she whispered. “I must be dreaming.”
    “Cleo, submit your application tonight when you report for duty!” and without another word the doctor left the room.
    “It’s a dream!” she cried, getting to her feet and staring at me with frightened eyes. “Who are you?”
    “I can make your dream come true,” I said.
    She was trembling, but like any addict, her longing was stronger than her fears and doubts. She wanted to believe me. And this was the moment for me to make love to her. I couldn’t. I was sorry for that poor girl, and I was repelled by her, too. I cursed the Commissioner, I cursed the spoiled L. and O. operatives so accustomed to their roenfoam sweethearts and One-Shot Animateds that they wouldn’t go near a Silver-Corder 2 . I simply couldn’t touch that poor miserable trembling creature.
    “Cleo, I’m from L. and O.,” I said on the impulse. “Please listen to me. I know your father has joined the St. Ewagiow. But I can get him a full Presidential pardon. Believe me, that’s the truth! Your father only became a St. Ewagiow when he lost all he had. Cleo, he has the A-I-D! I shouldn’t tell you this, but I will. He has the A-I-D, and if he turns it over to us, he’ll be pardoned, reinstated as a master magicientist! Believe me, that’s the truth, and you must help me.”
    “It’s a dream,” she murmured fearfully. “A dream.”
    “No, it’s not, Cleo. You heard Dr. Lawrence Quipper — ”
    “A dream!” she screamed and ran into her bedroom, slamming the door.
    I knocked on the door, and when there was no answer I went inside. She was stretched out on the bed and next to her was a newly-opened box of Sweet Dreams. Even as I watched her, the frightened expression on her face was changing. A little smile came to her lips, and that was how I left her, dreaming sweet dreams of cosmic death.
    I was too ashamed to report my failure to Commissioner Sonata. I returned to my hotel, where Gladys greeted me excitedly. “Darling, we’ve got our first good news. Barnum Fly’s in town!”
    “How do you know?”
    “There’s been another murder, the ninth murder, with that cute little slip of his, ‘Everybody Dies on July 4th’. Isn’t that wonderful news?”
    I thought of how stupid I had been, and walked to the wall taps.
    “Not now, darling!” she cried. “To quote the St. Ewagiow — there’s a time to live and a time to die, a time for opgin and a time for optimism.”
    “Gladys, I’ve messed up everything!” I confessed, and told her what a stupid moralistic fool I was.
    She listened to me quietly. Then she sighed. “You are a fool but I like you for it. So you couldn’t make love to her?” She patted my hand. “That’s flattering to me, darling. But you better go back to Cleo, darling.”
    “Why?” I groaned.
    “Historical necessity, my little Eros.”
    “Why can’t someone else — ”
    She laughed. “I’ve heard you call our men butterflies. And that’s what they are. Butterflies flitting from flower to flower in the hothouse that is the Funhouse.”
    I stared at her. “You’re the subversive now!”
    “It must be that Bee-Ambo,” she sighed and rubbed at her forehead. “Damn it, I’m thinking too much for my own good. You must go back, darling.”
    “No,” I said.
    “Barnum Fly’s in town! The A-I-D is here! You must go back. It’s your duty to mankind, that mankind of yours about whom you’re always preaching so tiresomely.” She glanced at me quickly and her blue eyes were so serious they reminded me of my wife’s. “I had some other news from the Commissioner. Cleo is a bonafide member of the St. Ewagiow. That father of her’s did a good job of ruining her life.”
    “I have an idea,” I said. “The man to make love to her is Dr. Quipper! He’s the man to make her dream come true. Why, she’d do anything for him.”
    “You don’t understand, darling. We all have our assignments and Cleo Fly is your assignment, not Dr.