saw that he and the waiter were laughing. I laughed too, defensively, and their laughter doubled; evidently the joke had been on me. “Never mind, Jorge,” said Herrera, sobering, “we go now. You will like what I have for us to do next, I think.” He paid the check, and the waiter raised an eyebrow. “In back?” “In back,” said Herrera. “C6me, Jorge.” We threaded our way between the counters, the waiter leading the way. He opened a door and hissed something rapid and Spanish to Herrera. “Oh, don’t worry,” Herrera told him. “We will not be long.” “In back,” turned out to be-a library. I was conscious of Herrera’s eyes on me, and I don’t think I showed any of what I felt. I even stayed with him for an hour or so, while he devoured a wormy copy of something called Moby Dick and I glanced through half a dozen ancient magazines. Some of those remembered classics went a long way toward easing my conscience -there was actually an early “Do You Make These Common Mistakes in English?” and a very fine “Not a Cough in a Carload” that .would have looked well on the wall of my office, back in Schocken Tower. But I could not relax in the presence of so many books without a word of advertising in any of them. I am not a prude about solitary pleasures when they serve a useful purpose. But my tolerance has limits. Herrera knew, I think, that I lied when I told him I had a headache. When, much later, he came stumbling into the dorm I turned my head away. We scarcely spoke after that. A week later, after a near-riot in the mess hall-sparked by a rumor that the yeast fritters were adulterated with sawdust-I was summoned to the front office. A veep for Personnel saw me after I had waited an hour. “Groby?” “Yes, Mr. Milo.” “Remarkable record you’ve made. Quite remarkable. I see your efficiency rating is straight fours.” That was Bowen’s work. He kept records. He had taken five years to worm himself into that very spot. “Thank you, Mr. Milo.” “Welcome, I’m sure. We, uh, happen to have a vacancy approaching. One of our people up North. I see his work is falling off badly.”
Not his work-the ghost of his work; the shadow on paper of his work; the shadow carefully outlined and filled in by Bowen. I began to appreciate the disproportionate power that Consies could wield. “Do you happen to have any interest in purchasing, Groby?” “It’s odd that you should ask, Mr. Milo,” I said evenly. “I’ve always had a feel for it. I think I’d make good in purchasing.” He looked at me skeptically; it was a pretty standard answer. He began firing questions and I respectfully regurgitated answers from the Chlorella manual. He had memorized it twenty-odd years ago, and I had memorized it only a week ago. He was no match for me. After an hour he was convinced that George Groby was the only hope of Chlorella Protein, and that I should be hurled into the breach forthwith. That night I told the cell about it. “It means New York,” Bowen said positively. “It means New York.” I couldn’t keep back a great sigh. Kathy, I thought. He went on, heedlessly: “I’ve got to tell you some special things now. To begin with-the recognition signals.” I learned the recognition signals. There was a hand sign for short range. There was a grand hailing sign of distress for medium range. For long range there was a newspaper-ad code; quite a good one. He made me practice the signs and memorize the code cold. It took us into the small hours of the morning. When we left through Chicken Little I realized that I hadn’t seen Herrera all day. I asked as we emerged what had happened. “He broke,” Bowen said simply. I didn’t say anything. It was a kind of shorthand talk among Consies. “Soandso broke.” That meant: “Soandso toiled for years and years in the cause of the W.C.A. He gave up his nickels and dimes and the few pleasures they could buy him. He didn’t marry and he didn’t sleep with women because it would have imperiled security. He became possessed by doubts so secret that he didn’t admit them to himself or us. The doubts and fears mounted. He was torn too many ways and he turned on himself and died.” “Herrera broke,” I said stupidly. “Don’t brood about it,” Bowen said sharply. “You’re going North. You’ve got a job to do.” Indeed I had.