Brooks looked at the Moon. "Two-hundred and forty thousand miles away," he mused, "is paradise." "Ha!" His wife said. "She wouldn't use you for a doormat; you're just part of another dream she has to act in, that's all. Why, you little runt, she wouldn't give you a second look. Not even a first look. You're a fool even if you aren't crazy!" Brooks scarcely heard his wife's shrill voice. He had constructed a dream world of his own named Anghar. On this world, he and the great actress had lived through a thousand glorious adventures. Comparing his wife with Glora Delar made the situation impossible. It was the same with his wife, he knew. She had a Sensory Show hero, Clifford Marlowe, with whom no mortal, least of all Andy Brooks, could ever compare. All right, he had the answer to both of their problems; he was getting out, tonight. He closed his eyes a moment. There was Glora Delar, walking beside the Lost Sea of Anghar. "_Come back, my dear. The armies of Vasca are at the Palace Gates and I pray for your return and the strength of your arms and your love._" "Andy! Look at me!" "I'm tired of looking at you." Andy said and opened his eyes. "And anyway, I have to run away. They're going to give me _directed_ Sensory Shows. They're going to select all my entertainment for me, drive all my own dreams out, drive Glora Delar out, and replace my free choice entertainment with their own. He called it directive therapy. It will cure me, make me an efficient Worker again. But it'll mean I won't love Glora Delar anymore." "Fool," she cried. "It's crazy to love our Actors and Actresses outside the Sensory Shows!" * * * * * "That's what he told me," Andy said. "He said that Sensory Shows were planned and provided for the Workers by Personology, just to keep us sane and efficient. Our Actors and Actresses are for everyone's benefit, he said; he said it was antisocial for me to want to monopolize Glora Delar for myself." "That's right, Andy; that's right." "Oh, he was a great talker, the Personologist was. He said Personology had saved the world from destruction. Once everyone was crazy, he said, running around in a daze, with fantasy and reality all mixed up. Made wars and criminals and neurotics, he said. Now we've got planned, legalized fantasy in the Sensory Shows. A man can be a big-shot on an imaginary world; he can have the support of the most beautiful actresses and actors. Now there's a definite time for dreaming, one for Working. Normally, one never overlaps the other." "That's absolutely right, Andy; you should see that. I do." "You're a shallow idiot," Andy said; "you're content to dream. I'm not; I'm interested in the real Glora Delar. The dreams aren't enough any more, not for me."