f,
William R. Lancedale. I'm of his faction, and so is Frank Cardon. We
want to see your father elected, because the socialization of Literacy
would eventually put the Literates in complete control of the
government. We also want to see Literacy become widespread, eventually
universal, just as it was before World War IV."

"But Wouldn't that mean the end of the Fraternities?" Claire asked.

"That's what Joyner and Graves say. We don't believe so. And suppose
it did? Lancedale says, if we're so incompetent that we have to keep
the rest of the world in ignorance to earn a living, the world's
better off without us. He says that every oligarchy carries in it the
seeds of its own destruction; that if we can't evolve with the rest of
the world, we're doomed in any case. That's why we want to elect your
father. If he can get his socialized Literacy program adopted, we'll
be in a position to load the public with so many controls and
restrictions and formalities that even the most bigoted Illiterate
will want to learn to read. Lancedale says, a private monopoly like
ours is bad, but a government monopoly is intolerable, and the only
way the public can get rid of it would be by becoming Literates,
themselves."

She glanced toward the door of Pelton's private rest room.

"Poor Senator!" she said softly. "He hates Literacy so, and his own
children are Literates, and his program against Literacy is being
twisted against itself!"

"But you agree that we're right and he's wrong?" Prestonby asked. "You
must, or you'd never have come to me to learn to read."

"He's such a good father. I'd hate to see him hurt," she said. "But,
Ralph, you're my man. Anything you're for, I'm for, and anything
you're against, I'm against."

He caught her hand, across the table, forgetful of the others in the
office.

"Claire, now that everybody knows--" he began.

* * * * *

"_Top emergency! Top emergency!_" a voice brayed out of the alarm box
on the wall. "_Serious disorder in Department Thirty-two! Serious
disorder in Department Thirty-two!_"

The voice broke off as suddenly as it had begun, but the box was not
silent. From it came a medley of shouts, curses, feminine screams and
splintering crashes. Prestonby and Claire were on their feet.

"You have wall screens?" he asked. "How do they work? Like the ones at
school?"

Claire twisted a knob until the number 32 appeared on a dial, and
pressed a button. On