die?"

"Only if we're as stupid as Goliath was. Only if we wear our
telescreens like invincible armor and pay no attention to the
slingshot in David's hands."

Eric lit a reef. "All right," he said. "You don't have to lecture. I'm
willing to join. But I'm no Goliath, really. I never had a fight in my
life. What could I do to help?"

"You're a rental agent. You have the keys to this building. The guards
don't bother you by day, do they? You come and go as you please. That
means you can get into the cellars. You can help us move the stuff
down there. And we'll take care of the guards some night, after that."

"I don't understand."

The friendly pressure on Eric's shoulder became a fierce grip. "You
don't have to understand. All you do is let us plant the stuff in the
cellars and let us get rid of the guards afterwards in our own way.
The Yardsticks will do the rest."

"You mean, take over the building when it's not protected?"

"Of course. They'll take it over completely, once they see there's no
opposition. And they'll remodel it to suit themselves, and within a
month there'll be ten thousand Yardsticks sitting in this place."

"The government will never stand still for that."

"Wake up! It's happening all over, all the time, and nothing is being
done to prevent it. Security is too weak and officials are too timid
to risk open warfare. So the Yardsticks win, and I'm going to see that
they win this place."

"But how will that help us?"

"You don't see it yet, do you? And neither will the Yardsticks. Until,
some fine day three or four months from now, we get around to what
will be planted in the cellars. Somebody will throw a switch, miles
away, and--boom!"

"Wolzek, you couldn't--"

"It's coming. Not only here, but in fifty other places. We've got to
fight fire with fire, Eric. It's our only chance. Bring this thing out
into the open. Make the government realize this is war. Civil war.
That's the only way to force them to take real action. We can't do it
any other way; it's illegal to organize politically, and petitions do
no good. We can't get a hearing. Well, they'll have to listen to the
explosions."

"I just don't know--"

"Maybe you're the one who should have married Annette after all."
Wolzek's voice was cold. "Maybe you could have watched her, watched
her scream and beg and die, and never wanted to move a muscle to do
anything about it afterwards. Maybe you're the model citizen, Eric;
you and