The Mighty Dead

In Short

Set in a future where American control spans near space and literature is banned under the Arnold Law, Security Officer Doak Parker travels from Washington to Dubbinville, Wisconsin. Former Senator Elmer Arnold suspects illegal readers and printers there. Doak discovers a local underground—including bank president Malcolm Sutherland, high school principal, and attorney Martha Klein—using a memory-enhancing drug called lucidate to recite classical poetry and publish a clandestine magazine, The Heritage Herald. Captivated by the town, poetry, and Martha, Doak drops his assignment, decides to resign, and plans to fight the censors through Washington political pressure.

The Story

Security Officer Doak Parker looks forward to a weekend rendezvous in Washington with June when Chief Ryder summons him. Former Senator Elmer Arnold—architect of the federal Arnold Law that criminalizes all written, printed, or teleprinted media across American-controlled space—has flagged odd activity at the old Fisher place in Dubbinville, Wisconsin. Disgruntled by the interruption, Doak collects two thousand dollars in expense moola, leaves behind yammering video sets playing Milton Berle IV, and boards a coin-operated Lateral-American flight west.

Arriving in Dubbinville via Milwaukee and an elevated car, Doak steps into an analog oasis smelling of lilacs, grass, and quiet rain. He rents a room from Mrs. Klein and meets her twenty-seven-year-old daughter, Martha. Guided by Martha to Arnold’s high stone fortress, Doak faces the aged, ash-complexioned ex-senator guarded by slobbering German Boxers. Arnold rails against local vermin who read and might print, urging Doak to smash them.

Waiting for night, Doak reflects on humanity's small-cog reluctance to leave Earth for Mars mines or Venus sanctuaries, and remembers fragments of Scotch poetry from his mother. Slipping past the unlatched rear door of the Fisher place with an infra-scope, he overhears Martha explain lucidate—a harmless drug promoting total recall—and note their desperate need for original literary contributors. Inside, listeners sit mesmerized as a woman recites Shakespeare ("What's in a name? that which we call a rose..."). Upstairs, Doak discovers The Heritage Herald, a mimeographed bulletin featuring Shakespeare, Milton, Robert W. Service, a space-farce by S. Crittington Jones, and Martha's militant editorial against the Arnold Law. Reading a Burns line ("An honest man's the noblest work of God!"), Doak experiences an unexpected tearful emotional surge.

Returning to town, Doak talks porch-side with Mrs. Klein, learning that Arnold was degraded in youth and Glen Ryder climbed opportunistically via political alignment. Morning reveals local strata: bank president Malcolm Sutherland quoting Burns, and local medical/drug interactions. That afternoon at the lake raft, Doak swims and trades sharp, physical banter with Martha, realizing she suspects a hidden angle or warning.

Summoned back to Arnold’s stifling heater-room, Doak stonewalls the ex-senator, asserting he answers only to Department leadership while Arnold boasts of making Ryder's career. Back on Mrs. Klein's porch, Doak kisses Martha and drops The Heritage Herald into her lap. Admitting he is resigning from Security, Doak vows to fight the system legally through Washington pressure-group mechanics. Martha reveals she told her group to hold off during his swim because she pegged him for an honest man. Together, they face the prospect of two bruising battles ahead.

How It Unfolds

The interruption: Doak Parker anticipates a triumphal Washington weekend with June when Chief Ryder displays an electronic transcript from former Senator Elmer Arnold. Dismissing his personal annoyance, Doak secures two thousand dollars in expense funds and heads west.

The analog arrival: Boarding a coin-operated Lateral-American ship, Doak flies to Milwaukee and catches a nine-minute elevated car to Dubbinville. He steps into an old-fashioned streetscape smelling of sun-warmed grass, finding a marble-counter soda fountain and renting a room from Mrs. Klein.

The fortress interview: Accompanied by Martha Klein across the hill, Doak encounters ash-faced former Senator Arnold behind wrought-iron fences and German Boxers. In a stifling, windowless room, Arnold demands Doak trap the subversive readers and suspected printers occupying the old Fisher place.

The underground audit: Equipped with an infra-scope, Doak observes Martha discussing total-recall lucidate injections and listens to classical verse recitations. Slipping upstairs, he inspects The Heritage Herald, discovering mimeographed works by Shakespeare, Milton, and Service alongside Martha's militant call-to-arms editorial.

The emotional crack: Stirred to tears by a recited Burns line ("An honest man's the noblest work of God!"), Doak fights a sudden adolescent pang of conscience. Porch-side chats with Mrs. Klein reveal Arnold's degraded youth and Glen Ryder's opportunistic government climb.

The local network: Doak discovers bank president Malcolm Sutherland quoted Burns under lucidate and observes local medical routines. Spending a sun-soaked afternoon swimming and sparring on the lake raft with Martha, Doak trades charged banter while solid citizens watch from the glade.

The resignation: Summoned back to Arnold's oven-room, a defiant Doak refuses to leak Department business to the boastful ex-senator. Returning to the porch, Doak kisses Martha, drops the mimeographed magazine into her lap, and announces his resignation from Security to fight via Washington pressure politics.

The People

Doak Parker wants career safety, tax debt relief, weekend glory with June, and physical conquest. Standing in his way are moral friction from classical poetry, systemic censorship logic, and Martha's skepticism. He ends up resigning from Security to wage legal political war against the censors.

Martha Klein wants total memory preservation, original literary voices, and the collapse of the Arnold Law. Standing in her way are federal censorship enforcement and initial outsider ambiguity. She ends up partnering with Doak, testing his integrity, and facing two upcoming political battles.

Elmer Arnold wants total eradication of subversive reading/printing and vindication of his lifelong war on ink. Standing in his way are secret local networks and Doak's refusal to leak Department secrets. He ends isolated, senile-seeming yet venomous, losing control of enforcement assets.

Glen Ryder wants career elevation and smooth departmental operation. Standing in his way are rogue local subversion and inconvenient field agents. He ends up exposed as an opportunist who rode Arnold's coat-tails into government power.

Malcolm Sutherland wants safe preservation of high culture like Burns via lucidate. Standing in his way is total totalitarian surveillance. He ends exposed as an active intellectual subverter bank president.

Mrs. Klein wants neighborly peace, domestic order, and realistic matches for Martha. Standing in her way are generational shifts and state snooping. She remains placidly grounded, suspicious of Arnold, and aware of her daughter's smitten state.

In Its Own Voice

Doak recalls the exhaustive sweep of the galactic censorship decree.

There shall be in that area of the galaxy under American control no material of a literary or non-literary, educational or non-educational, pertinent or impertinent nature, which is printed, written, enscribed, engraved, mimeographed, dupligraphed, electro-graved, arti-scribed, teleprinted....

A contralto voice enchants the clandestine circle with Shakespeare.

`'... 'tis but thy name that is my enemy

Thou art thyself though, not a Montague. What's Montague? It is nor hand nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? that which we call a rose, By any other name would smell as sweet...'`

The text appends a concluding meta-reflection on science-fictional prophecy.

Gadgetry to come, as repeatedly demonstrated by Verne, is easy. But no one yet has been able to tell what human beings are going to do from day to day, much less years and years ahead of time.

What It's Really About

Beneath its noir-security setup, the text interrogates why totalitarian censorship coalitions form—uniting the ridiculous, political, religious, and commercial to substitute mass-market banality (wrestling, video comedians) for high culture. It asks whether galactic expansion (Mars as a quarry, Venus as a resort) satisfies human roots, or if people remain anchored to local soil and memory. Crucially, it explores transmission: how total-recall drugs (lucidate) and mimeographs keep canonical voices (Shakespeare, Burns) alive when official output decays into ad-man hygiene panaceas. Finally, it argues that systemic subversion cannot be smashed merely by punitive thuggery, but must be matched by structural political engagement.

Why Read It Today

Readers who savor satirical mid-century speculative fiction that pairs hard-boiled government procedural prose with literary rebellion will treasure this novella. Reading it feels like stepping from a neon-glaring corporate highway into a cool, shadowed Victorian parlor: crisp bureaucrat slang ("moola," "swindle-sheet," "durapelt") crashes against pastoral Wisconsin grass scents and soaring poetic cadence.

What stays with you is the uncanny friction between standardized mass culture—where video sets beam relentless Milton Berle reruns and ad-men cure denture breath—and the defiant quiet of mimeographed Heritage Herald pages. Martha Klein’s unyielding grace and Doak Parker’s friction-bound conversion linger long past the final page.

Honest difficulties abound for modern readers. Period political anchors (McCarthy and Malenkov, the N.A.M. and P.T.A. satire) lean heavy on 1950s cultural literacy. Early sexual attitudes—Doak framing a weekend conquest as an office-rank campaign—reflect dated mid-century baseline assumptions about women and pursuit. Furthermore, the plot pivots abruptly from dark state noir into pastoral romance and meta-textual editorial framing, treating complex ideological totalitarianism with episodic pulp acceleration rather than dense world-building depth.