f sweat fall from his armpit under the
loose tunic and roll, itching, down the side of his body. He wanted
with all his soul to be back in High Falls. Anyplace but here.

"Why, Ellaby?"

"I can't answer that question. A man isn't forced to answer a question
unless he wants to."

"Certainly not," said the personnel advisor, staring blandly at
Ellaby. "This is a democratic country."

"Then--"

"But you've never known a man to refuse answering a question asked of
him officially, have you?"

"I'm not sure I understand, sir."

"You don't have to be so obsequious, Ellaby. I'm less modal than you
are, but I make the best of my divergencies. What I meant was this:
did you ever hear of a criminal _not_ confessing to his crime?"

"Well, no."

"I'll ask you the question again, Ellaby. Why did you want to work
near the Dictator?"

The man leaned close, peered at Ellaby. The room was small, almost a
cubicle, the bare walls seeming to close in on all four sides. Ellaby
stifled a wild impulse to scream and run out of there, run any place
as long as he could leave the room and the personnel advisor behind
him. "I'm sorry, but I can't answer that question," he said finally.

"Tell me, Ellaby, did you ever hear your own voice?"

What a strange question. "Why, certainly. All the time, when I speak."

"No, I mean your voice reproduced artificially. Your radio voice?"

"No, I never heard it."

"Well, you're about to."

While the personnel advisor busied himself setting up the radio
equipment, Ellaby had a few seconds in which to think. He could still
make a clean breast of the whole thing. They had chosen him--Mulden,
the Sinclair woman and the others in High Falls--for his modality.
Very well, he could use that modality to get out from under. He didn't
understand. He didn't know what they were leading him to, slowly, over
a period of ten years. _He_ didn't want to assassinate the Dictator.
What in the world would he want to do that for? He would gladly name
all the names he knew if the personnel advisor would only let him
forget the whole mad experience and return to High Falls. He could
attend Adjustment Academy if they thought he needed it. Anything.
Anything....

"Please slip these earphones over your head, over your ears. There. Is
the microphone close enough to your lips? I think so."

* * * * *

A metal band running over the top of Ellaby's cranium held the
earphones in place.