to consider the matter, but the question was
never answered. Because Lars Neilstrom went away in the night, as had
his predecessors before him. And in succeeding interludes, Harry came
to know a half-dozen other transient occupants of the cell next to
his. They came from all over, and they had many things to discuss, but
always there was the problem of _why_ they were there--and the memory
of Richard Wade's premise concerning stockpiling.

There came a time when the memory of Richard Wade merged with the
memory of Arnold Ritchie. The past was a dim montage of life at the
agency and the treatment center and the ranch, a recollection of lying
on the river bank with women in attitudes of opisthotonos or of lying
against the boulders with a rifle.

Somewhere there was an image of a child's wide eyes and a voice
saying, "My name is Harry Collins." But that seemed very far away.
What was real was the cell and the years of talking and reading the
microscans and trying to find a pattern.

Harry found himself describing it all to a newcomer who said his name
was Austin--a soft-voiced man who became a resident of the next cell
one day in 2029. And eventually he came to Wade's theory.

"Maybe there were a few wiser heads who foresaw a coming crisis," he
concluded. "Maybe they anticipated a time when they might need a few
nonconformists. People like ourselves who haven't been passive or
persuaded. Maybe we're the government's insurance policy. If an
emergency arises, we'll be freed."

"And then what would _you_ do?" Austin asked, softly. "You're against
the system, aren't you?"

"Yes. But I'm _for_ survival." Harry Collins spoke slowly,
thoughtfully. "You see, I've learned something through the years of
study and contact here. Rebellion is not the answer."

"You hated Leffingwell."

"Yes, I did, until I realized that all this was inevitable.
Leffingwell is not a villain and neither is any given individual, in
or out of government. Our road to hell has been paved with only the
very best of intentions. Killing the engineers and contractors will
not get us off that road, and we're all on it together. We'll have to
find a way of changing the direction of our journey. The young people
will be too anxious to merely rush blindly ahead. Most of my
generation will be sheeplike, moving as part of the herd, because of
their conditioning. Only we old-time rebels will be capable of
plotting a course. A course for all of us."

"What