2. This report will be treated as confidential as a whole and any portion of it may be classified secret by the writer. You may substitute letters or numbers for proper names if this will help you to speak freely, but the report must be complete.
3. No time off from regular duties is allotted for this purpose, but this report must be treated as extra-duty of highest priority. A draft of your report will be expected by (here some one had written in a date and hour less than forty-eight hours away; I used some profane expressions under my breath.)
BY ORDER OF THE COMMANDING GENERAL
(s)M. Novak, Col, F.U.S.A. Chief of Psychology
I was considerably annoyed by this demand and decided to write to Judith first anyway. The note didn’t go very well-how can one write a love letter when you know that one or more strangers will read it and that one of them will rephrase your tenderest words? Besides that, while writing to Judith, my thoughts kept coming back to that night on the rampart of the Palace when I had first met her. It seemed to me that my own personal conversion, as the nosy Colonel Novak called it, started then. . . although I had begun to have doubts before then. Finally I finished the note, decided not to go to bed at once but to tackle that blasted report.
After a while I noticed that it was one o’clock in the morning and I still hadn’t carried my account up to the point where I was admitted to the Brotherhood. I stopped writing rather reluctantly (I found that I had grown interested) and locked it in my desk.
At breakfast the next morning I got Zebadiah aside, showed him the memorandum, and asked him about it. ‘What’s the big idea?’ I asked. ‘You work for this particular brass. Are they still suspicious of us, even after letting us in here?’
Zeb barely glanced at it. ‘Oh, that-Shucks, no. Although I might add that a spy, supposing one could get this far, would be bound to be caught when his personal story went through semantic analysis. Nobody can tell a lie that long and that complicated.’
‘But what’s it for?’
‘What do you care? Write it out-and be sure you do a thorough job. Then turn it in.’
I felt myself grow warm. ‘I don’t know as I will. I rather think I’ll ask the General about it first.’
‘Do so, if you want to make a ruddy fool of yourself. But look, John, the psychomathematicians who will read that mess of bilge you will write, won’t have the slightest interest in you as an individual. They don’t even want to know who you are-a girl goes through your report and deletes all personal names, including your own, if you haven’t done so yourself, and substitutes numbers. . . all this before an analyst sees it. You’re just data, that’s all; the Chief has some heap big project on the fire-I don’t know what it is myself-and he is trying to gather together a large enough statistical universe to be significant.’
I was mollified. ‘Well, why don’t they say so, then? This memo is just a bald order-irritating.’
Zeb shrugged. ‘That is because it was prepared by the semantics division. If the propaganda division had written it, you would have gotten up early and finished the job before breakfast.’ He added, ‘By the way, I hear you’ve been promoted. Congratulations.’
‘Thanks.’ I grinned at him slyly. ‘How does it feel to be junior to me, Zeb?’
‘Huh? Did they bump you that far? I thought you were a captain.’
‘I am.’
‘Well, excuse me for breathing-but I’m a major.’
‘Oh. Congratulations.’
‘Think nothing of it. You have to be at least a colonel around here, or you make your own bed.’
I was too busy to make my bed very often. More than half the time I slept on the couch in my office and once I went a week without bathing. It was evident at once that the Cabal was bigger and had more complicated ramifications to it than I had ever dreamed and furthermore that it was building to a crescendo. I was too close to the trees to see the woods, even though everything but the utter top-secret, burn-after-reading items passed across my desk.