We stood between the giant columns of the mighty triumphal arch high above the riotous crowd of rejoicing people. Three of us, the spokesman, Comrade Jones, and I, stood on the decorated platform waiting for the cheering to cease, for the bands to stop playing, for some semblance of order so that the ceremony might begin

Whelan, Rachel

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DICTATORRACHEL WHELANWe stood between the giant columns ofthe mighty triumphal arch high above theriotous crowd of rejoicing people. Threeof us, the spokesman, Comrade Jones, andI, stood on the decorated platform waitingfor the cheering to cease, for the bands tostop playing, for some semblance of orderso that the ceremony might begin.Yes, the world had been saved. Peacehad been restored, and civilization was tocarry its glorious banner on to even greaterheights than it had thus far reached. Theworld's economic system had been revolu-tionized. The common standard of livingnow surpassed even the wildest dreams ofthe staunchest socialist. Capital and laborworked shoulder to shoulder and saw eye toeye. Currency had been stabilized. Sciencewas making strides unheard of even fiveyears ago. Expanded educational oppor-tunities revealed all potential geniuses, andindividual accomplishments in all fieldshad reached astounding peaks.All these miracles had been wroughtby the formation of a United States of theWorld. We were all one glorious unit, andnow on this memorable Fourth of July,nineteen hundred forty-six they were offer-ing to one man, who was accredited withaccomplishing the Herculean task of right-ing the world, the sole leadership of thegreat commonwealth, just as centuries agoJulius Caesar had been offered the title ofEmperior of Rome. One of the three of uswas to be presented with the opportunityof being the dictator of the United States ofthe World, and his acceptance - or refusal- was to be witnessed by the vast, clamor-ing mass on the street below and transmit-ted by television all over the world.A hush had fallen over the crowd asthe spokesman slowly made his way to thefront of the platform. By the time he hadreached the speaker's stand an overwhelm.ing silence had descended upon the people.They seemed suddenly awed by the terriblesignificance of the moment.With the spokesman's first words,"Dictator of the World," I seemed to becomeoblivious to the whole setting. There wasa strange questioning in my mind. Thoughtskept going back to the days before. Whatdid all this really stand for? The sea ofupturned faces below were dissolving in amist. "Dictator of the World" - Whatwould one do? I found myself in a sortof aery twilight, and something - was itthought or was it really a voice? - seemedto be speaking in a mocking tone - an-swering my question . . . .Dictator of the world? There arethings to do, many things. Fathom thesilence of falling snow in November twi-light, the burn of a lone tear as it rollsdown the cheek, the pain of a broken heart.Demand orchestral scores for the music ofthe wind moaning through pine woods, ofrain on the roof in September, of waveslapping gently against the rotting pier whilebreezes play in the reeds and frogs singbass accompaniment to the night bird's call.Harness lightning's knife of fury, the sun'sbeams shining through the crack in thedoor, or the wind whistling under theeaves in December. See always the kittencurled upon a cushion, a child's face lightwith a smile, the glow of fireplaces on win-ter evenings, and erase memories of suffer-ing, hate, and cruelty. Wear the rainbowas a silken scarf. Rest upon a pillow offleecy cloud. Hang the suns of all the uni-verses on your Christmas tree. Climb thesilvery path of the moon on the lake andgaze through the millions of sparkling-31-windows at the mysteries beyond the sky.Imprison in perfume vials the mists of lateautumn afternoons, the prim lavender andold lace atmosphere of a New Englandcountry town .....Dictator of the world? There are otherthings also .... Be big, vast as the silentnight. Be infinitesimal beyond the probingscientist's view. Be heart and soul of eachman in the world. Know how each thinksand feels. Be darkness and light. Beeverything and be nothing .... The voicewas laughing ....A wild burst of applause shattered myreverie. The great man had been named.The spokesman beckoned. I hesitated amoment and then walked toward the man.He was holding out the robe destined forthe dictator of the world, but I shook myhead. They wouldn't understand, but itdidn't matter because I knew. I couldn'tbe dictator. I turned and started down thelong stairway from the triumphal arch.EXCERPT'SI. Leonardo Da Vinci's paintings wereso realistic, that the image he paintedalmost protruded from the canvas.Realistic Painting by June Holtman.II. He was a saint the first day of theweek and a business devil the othersix.The soft, red light cast by the colorsin the rose window threw a flaselook of kindness on her harshfeatures. Sunday Mo'rning by HaroldKellermeyer.III. A tantalizing fly hummed its farewellto life about the room. Its abruptsilence I heard as a distinct sentenceto die, for this sentence was immedi-ately followed by the guillotine-likecrack of a newspaper. "Got him,"was its unmistakable pronouncementof death. Musings by ThomasBroden.IV. Down the street came a muffledfigure, black against the snow-coveredearth. Out of the stillness came themeasured tread of his heavy boots asthey snapped the thin ice that crustedthe snow. The sound grew louderand more distinct as he came nearer.Each step breaking the night's silencelike the crack of a dead twig.Footfalls in the' Snow by BarbaraJane Peacock.V. Nocturne's sheath of magic haserased the distorted lines of brokenfence; torturously gnarled trees be-come graceful.Nearer is the cat, sleeping contentedlybeside them. Cool, sweet fragranceof fresh, living plants is more refresh-ing than sleep itself. Eyes lifted tothe sky show the heights of beauty,the base of thought. Yet the ideasformulated this night belong to thistime only. A separate world hasbeen created by man, using God's ownfor a setting. To make use of thoseideas they must be confined to theworld of make-believe. Transforma-tion by Mary Shockency.32

Dictator

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