inside--what you know yourself to be true.

"You men who learn how to break away are our only hope, too. Most of
us don't see that yet. I do; I know what it used to be like. Someday
there may be enough men with the stamina to take back the place of
dominance that we stole from them. We thought we wanted it; for
decades before we had been screaming about women's rights." Her thin
lips twisted in a sneer and she spat her disgust. "Finally we took
what we wanted, and it turned to ashes in our hands. We made our men
playthings; we made them slaves. And after that they weren't men any
more. But what we stole isn't the sort of thing you can hand back on a
silver platter; you men have to get enough courage to take it away
from us."

Her grip tightened on his arm. "There's a fire door at the end of the
hall; if you push the emergency button, you'll close it. That will
give you a five or ten minute start. I can't help you any more...."

They were abreast of Jenny. She seized Jenny's hand and thrust it into
his. "Beat it, kids; there's a bachelor camp on the north ridge. You
can make it.

"And from here on in, what he says goes," the old woman added. "Don't
forget that."

"She won't," George answered, supremely self-assured.

He took Jenny's arm and, turning abruptly, they made their break for
freedom. The Director managed to remain standing in the middle of the
corridor, making a dangerous target of herself so that none of the
Morals Squad could risk a shot at the fugitives. As the fire door
clanged shut George looked back. He saw the old woman's lips moving in
silent prayer.

* * * * *

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