May swallowed and went on: “-for some reason or other. Why don’t youngsters elect for Controller any more? Why didn’t you, for instance?” Reuben wished he could be saved by a direct hit. The binoculars, Selene, the raid, and now he was supposed to make intelligent conversation with a general. “I really don’t know, sir,” he said miserably. “At the time thejre seemed to be very little difference-Controller, Atomist, Missiler, Maintainer. We have a saying, ‘The buttons are different,’ which usually ends any conversation on the subject.” “Indeed?” asked May distractedly. His face was thinly filmed with sweat. “Do you suppose Ellay intends to clobber us this time?” he asked almost hoarsely. “It’s been some weeks since they made a maximum effort, hasn’t it?” “Four,” said Reuben. “I remember because one of my best Servers was killed by a falling corridor roof-the only fatality and it had to happen to my team!” He laughed nervously and realized that he was talking like a fool, but May seemed not to notice. Far below them, there was a series of screaming whistles as the interceptors were loosed to begin their intricate, double basketwork wall of defense in a towering cylinder about Denv. “Go on, Reuben,” said May. “That was most interesting.” His eyes were searching the underside of the steel table. Reuben averted his own eyes from the frightened face, feeling some awe drain out of him. Under a table with a general! It didn’t seem so strange now. “Perhaps, sir, you can tell me what a puzzling thing, that happened this afternoon, means. A fellow-Rudolph’s man Almon, of the eighty-ninth level-gave me a pair of binoculars that flashed in my eyes and then went opaque. Has your wide experience-” May laughed hoarsely and said in a shaky voice: “That old trick! He was photographing your retinas for the blood-vessel pattern. One of Rudolph’s men, eh? I’m glad you spoke to me; I’m old enough to spot a revival like that. Perhaps my good friend Rudolph plans-” There was a thudding volley hi the air and then a faint jar. One had got through, exploding, from the feel of it, far down at the foot of Denv.
The alarm roared again, in bursts that meant all clear; only one flight of missiles and that disposed of. The Atomist and the general climbed out from under the table; May’s secretary popped through the door. The general waved him out again and leaned heavily on the table, his arms quivering. Reuben hastily brought a chair. “A glass of water,” said May. The Atomist brought it. He saw the general wash down what looked like a triple dose of xxx-green capsules which it was better to leave alone. May said after a moment: “That’s better. And don’t look so shocked, youngster; you don’t know the strain we’re under. It’s only a temporary measure which I shall discontinue as soon as things ease up a bit. 1 was saying that perhaps my good friend Rudolph plans to substitute one of his men for one of mine. Tell me, how long has this fellow Almon been a friend of yours?” “He struck up an acquaintance with me only last week. I should have realized-” “You certainly should have. One week. Time enough and more. By now you’ve been photographed, your fingerprints taken, your voice recorded, and your gait studied without your knowledge. Only the retinascope is difficult, but one must risk it for a real double. Have you killed your man, Reuben?” He nodded. It had been a silly brawl two years ago over precedence at the refectory; he disliked being reminded of it. “Good,” said May grimly. “The way these things are done, your double kills you in a secluded spot, disposes of your body, and takes over your role. We shall reverse it. You will kill the double and take over his role.” The powerful, methodical voice ticked off possibilities and contingencies, measures and countermeasures. Reuben absorbed them and felt his awe return. Perhaps May had not really been frightened under the table; perhaps it had been he reading his own terror in the general’s face. May was actually talking to him of backgrounds and policies. “Up from the eighty-third level!” he swore to himself as the great names were uttered. “My good friend Rudolph, of course, wants the five stars. You would not know this, but the man who wears the stars is now eighty years old and failing fast. I consider myself a likely candidate to re-