“Where’s your floor plan?” the biggest and hairiest asked, and kicked Bill again.
“Stolen …” he started to sob again.
“Are you a trooper?”
“They took away my ID card …”
“Got any bucks?”
“Gone … all gone … like the disposa-steins of yesteryear …”
“Then you are one of the deplanned,” the watchers chanted in unison, and helped Bill to his feet. “Now-join with us in ‘The Song of the Deplanned,’” and with quavering voices they sang:
Stand together one and all,
For Brothers Deplanned always shall,
Unite and fight to achieve the Right,
That Might shall fail and Truth avail,
So that we, who once were free, can someday be
Once more free to see the skies o f blue above,
And hear the gentle piny-pat
Of snow.
“It doesn’t rhyme very well,” Bill said.
“Ah, we’s short of talent down here, we is,” the smallest and oldest deplanned said, and coughed a hacking, rachitic cough.
“Shut up,” the big one said, and kidney-punched the old one and Bill. “I’m Litvok, and this is my bunch. You part of my bunch now, newcomer, and your name is Golph 28169-minus”
“No, I’m not; my name is Bill, and it’s easier to say-” He was slugged again.
“Shaddup! Bill’s a hard name because it’s a new name, and I never remember no new names. I always got a Golph 28169-minus in my bunch. What’s your name?”
“Bill-OUCH! I mean Golph!”
“That’s better-but don’t forget you got a last name too …”
“I is hungry,” the old one whined. “When we gonna make the raid?”
“Now. Follow me.”
They stepped over the old Golph etc. who had expired while the new one was being initiated, and hurried away down a dark, dank back passage. Bill followed along, wondering what he had got himself into, but too weary to worry about it now. They were talking about food; after he had some food he would think about what to do next, but meanwhile he felt glad that someone was taking care of him and doing his thinking for him. It was just like being back in the troopers, only better, since you didn’t even have to shave.
The little band of men emerged into a brightly lit hallway, cringing a little in the sudden glare. Litvok waved them to a stop and peered carefully in both directions, then cupped one dirt-grimed hand to his cauliflower ear and listened, frowning with the effort.
“It looks clear. Schmutzig, you stay here and give the alarm if anyone comes, Sporco you go down the hall to the next bend, and you do same thing. You, new Golph, come with me.”
The two sentries scrambled off to their duties, while Bill followed Litvok into an alcove containing a locked metal door, which the burly leader opened with a single blow of a metal hammer he took from a place of concealment in his ragged clothes. Inside were a number of pipes of assorted dimensions that rose from the floor and vanished into the ceiling above. There were numbers stenciled onto each pipe, and Litvok pointed to them.
“We gotta find kl-9256-B,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Bill found the pipe quickly. It was about as big around as his wrist, and be had just called to the bunch leader when a shrill whistle sounded down the hall.
“Outside!” Litvok said, and pushed Bill before him, then closed the door and stood so that his body covered the broken lock. There was a growing rumbling and swishing noise that came down the hall toward them as they cowered in the alcove. Litvok held his hammer behind his back as the noise increased, and a sanitation robot appeared and swiveled its binocular eyestalk toward them.
“Will you kindly move, this robot wishes to clean where you are standing,” a recorded voice spoke from the robot in firm tones. It whirled its brushes at them hopefully.
“Get lost,” Litvok growled.
“Interference with a sanitation robot during the performance of its duties is a punishable crime, as well as an antisocial act. Have you stopped to consider where you would be if the Sanitation Department wasn’t …”
“Blabbermouth,” Litvok snarled and hit the robot on top of its brain case with the hammer. “WONKITY!!” the robot shrilled, and went reeling down the hall dribbling water incontinently from its nozzles. “Let’s finish the job,” Litvok said, throwing the door open again. He handed the hammer to Bill, and drawing a hacksaw from a place of concealment in his ragged clothes he attacked the pipe with frenzied strokes. The metal pipe was tough, and within a minute he was running with sweat and starting to tire.