REVOLT IN 2100 By ROBERT A. HEINLEIN

‘Me? Oh, never!’

I had continued to think about her the rest of the watch. When the warden did make rounds I was a shade less than alert.

A mighty little on which to found a course of folly, eh? A single drink is a great amount to a teetotaler; I was not able to get Sister Judith out of my mind. In the month that followed I saw her half a dozen times. Once I passed her on an escalator; she was going down as I was going up. We did not even speak, but she had recognized me and smiled. I rode that escalator all night that night in my dreams, hut I could never get off and speak to her. The other encounters were just as trivial. Another time I heard her voice call out to me quietly, ‘Hello, John Lyle,’ and I turned just in time to see a hooded figure go past my elbow through a door. Once I watched her feeding the swans in the moat; I did not dare approach her but I think that she saw me.

The Temple Herald printed the duty lists of both my service and hers. I was standing a watch in five; the Virgins drew lots once a week. So it was just over a month later that our watches again matched. I saw her name-and vowed that I would win the guard mount that evening and again be posted at the post of honor before the Prophet’s own apartments. I had no reason to think that Judith would seek me out on the rampart-but I was sure in my heart that she would. Never at West Point had I ever expended more spit-and-polish; I could have used my buckler for a shaving mirror.

But here it was nearly half past ten and no sign of Judith, although I had heard the Virgins gather down the corridor promptly at ten. All I had to show for my efforts was the poor privilege of standing watch at the coldest post in the Palace.

Probably, I thought glumly, she comes out to flirt with the guardsmen on watch every time she has a chance. I recalled bitterly that all women were vessels of iniquity and had always been so since the Fall of Man. Who was I to think that she had singled me out for special friendship? She had probably considered the night too cold to bother.

I heard a footstep and my heart leaped with joy. But it was only the warden making his rounds. I brought my pistol to the ready and challenged him; his voice came back, ‘Watchman, what of the night?’

I answered mechanically, ‘Peace on Earth,’ and added, ‘It is cold, Elder Brother.’

‘Autumn in the air,’ he agreed. ‘Chilly even in the Temple.’ He passed on by with his pistol and his bandolier of paralysis bombs slapping his armor to his steps. He was a nice old duffer and usually stopped for a few friendly words; tonight he was probably eager to get back to the warmth of the guardroom. I went back to my sour thoughts.

‘Good evening, John Lyle.’

I almost jumped out of my boots. Standing in the darkness just inside the archway was Sister Judith. I managed to splutter, ‘Good evening, Sister Judith,’ as she moved toward me.

‘Ssh!’ she cautioned me. ‘Someone might hear us. John Lyle-it finally happened. My lot was drawn!’

I said, ‘Huh?’ then added lamely, ‘Felicitations, Elder Sister. May God make his face to shine on your holy service.’

‘Yes, yes, thanks,’ she answered quickly, ‘but John . . . I had intended to steal a few moments to chat with you. Now I can’t-I must be at the robing room for indoctrination and prayer almost at once. I must run.’

‘You’d better hurry,’ I agreed. I was disappointed that she could not stay, happy for her that she was honored, and exultant that she had not forgotten me. ‘God go with you.’

‘But I just had to tell you that I had been chosen.’ Her eyes were shining with what I took to be holy joy; her next words startled me. ‘I’m scared, John Lyle.’

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