"John Barrymore!" Ryan repeated unbelievingly. "No wonder you kept that closely guarded."
"Your mother must have had thespian interests," Doc Tanner said.
"She was as fucking norm as me, so watch that flapping lip of yours, Doc," J.B. warned, bristling like an enraged bantam cockerel.
"No, my dear friend. A thespian. A lover of the theatrical arts. There was a famous actor called John Barrymore many years ago."
"Oh," he said, slightly mollified. "I never knowed any of that, Doc."
"Oh, yes, indeed. A famous man. A wonderful, wonderful actor."
"Your name, old man?" the guard demanded.
"Dr. Theophilus Tanner, master of arts, doctor of philosophy and a citizen of the free world."
"Outworlder?"
"Yes."
"Thomas O'Flaherty Fingal Finnegan, born somewheres around the Windy City," Finn butted in.
"Where were you born, old man?" the sec guard asked, ignoring the fat man's exaggerated bow.
"South Strafford, a tiny hamlet close by White River Junction in the beautiful state of Vermont. In the year of Our Lord..." Suddenly he stopped, as if someone had jammed his tongue in a closing door. He coughed, glancing sideways, but only Ryan had been listening to him; the sec man wasn't interested in anyone's age.
"You, boy? By the crucified Savior! Your hair? And your eyes and skin. Are you the spawn of Beelzebub?"
"No, I'm Jak Lauren from West Lowellton."
The guard swallowed hard, then scribbled the name down.
J.B. raised a hand. "You never asked where I came from."
"Where?"
"Cripple Creek, in the Rockies."
It was all dutifully entered on the pad. The jeep still waited behind them, engine ticking over. Ryan watched the sec men and saw how sharp they seemed, constantly alert, never taking their eyes off the newcomers.
Particularly, he noticed, they were fascinated by the bizarre appearance of Jak Lauren, seeming almost frightened by the fourteen-year-old boy with the colorless skin.
"That's all," the sec commander said. "Head on in and we'll tell..."
"What about us?" Krysty Wroth interrupted.
"How's that?"
"You haven't taken our names down. My name's..."
"Shut it."
The command was flat and dismissive. Ryan felt Krysty stiffen in anger, and he put a cautious hand on her arm. But she shook him off and stepped up to face the man, staring into his hooded eyes.
"Don't talk to me like that."
Ignoring her, the sec officer said, "Outworlder Cawdor, tell her that in Ginnsburg Falls, it's only men that count."
"Don't understand," Ryan said.
The sec commander continued, speaking more slowly and distinctly, as if he were addressing a backward child. "Others don't function."
"What the?.." Krysty began, stopping when Ryan turned and glared at her.
"Unpersons here. Non-men. Just home-keep and breed. Or whores. Them two whores?" he asked, interested in both Krysty's striking red hair and Lori's long blond tresses.
"No. They're both... home-keeps. Can we go now?"
"Sure. Registration'll follow later. Go to corner of Fourth an' Sissy that's the main street in the ville. Red building called Outworlders' Dorm. Don't leave there till you're told."
No other outworlders were in town just then, so they had the spotlessly clean building with eating hall and dormitories to themselves. Doc and Lori went into a small room with three beds, as did Ryan and Krysty. The others shared a room with six beds, overlooking Sissy Street.
An old man, apparently the janitor, seemed delighted to have seven visitors all at once. He wore a smart uniform of dark green, with silver piping around the lapels and down the sides of his pants. His gray hair was neatly combed, and he was clean-shaven.
"Lucky to be here in Ginnsburg Falls, folks," he said, speaking to the men but treating the two women as though they were invisible. "There's to be a stoning at dusk. Haven't had one o' them in weeks."
"What's a stoning?"
"Stoning, Mr. Cawdor, is what the name suggests. Those that crosses the laws here in the ville has to pay the price. Walk the line and you'll be fine."
"Stoned to death? Who by? What for?" Krysty Wroth asked.
The janitor ignored her. "Couple been caught in adultery tonight. Down the quarry. Follow Seventh to the edge of the lake and walk up the lane to the left. Mercy me! Why tell you that? Just follow the whole town and you'll see it for yourself." He hesitated. "Being outworlders, you won't know all the lines to walk, Mr. Cawdor. But home-keeps aren't allowed. Be trouble if they left here."
"Thank you," Ryan said. "We'll all take care to walk the line."
"Registers'll be here soon. Give you the cards and passes you'll need while here. Give you work allocations an' all."
"Double fucking weird," Finnegan exploded after the old man brought them bowls of vegetable soup and fresh-baked cornbread. The old man paused for a moment when he saw Lori and Krysty sitting down with the men. Muttering something about stupe outies, he stamped off, leaving them alone with their meal.
"Yeah," J.B. agreed. "Never saw a ville the like of this one."
Doc Tanner spooned his soup, pausing and looking across at Ryan. "You know that this place is rife with evil, do you not, Mr. Cawdor?"
"How's that again, Doc?"
"Ginnsburg Falls. Mayor Sissy. A stoning. Nonpersons. Breeding. But not a speck of dirt to be seen. Neat guards with polished weapons. It appears to me to be a mutated and idealized version of some Midwestern fascist dream."
"Don't like this walk-line shit," Jak Lauren said quietly. The boy had been subdued ever since they'd been brought into the ville.
"See that sign at the entrance?" Krysty asked. "By the old man's cubicle? It said that any dropping of litter or dirtying meant a minimum of twenty hours ville labor. Never met such a tight hole. When do we go?"
Ryan sniffed. "Soon as we can. But I agree with Doc. We have to step careful. Walk the line, like they say. They got rules on top of rules. We make a mistake, and it could cost us. You two..." looking at Lori and Krysty "...have to be most careful. Women come way second in Ginnsburg Falls. Don't talk back, please. For all our sakes."
The light was beginning to fade when a pair of sec guards entered the building and motioned for the men to join them. "Outworlders come to the stoning," the one with two silver stripes on his sleeve said.
"Is that a request or an order?" Ryan asked, getting only a blank look for a reply. "Guess it's a little of both."
Leaving the two women behind, the men followed the guards out and down the scrubbed stone steps, turning left along the main street.
"Lot of folks," Doc Tanner commented.
"No," Ryan said. "Lots of men. No women at all."
It was true. The street was thronged with males of all ages, all neatly but plainly dressed, walking quietly along as if they were going to some sort of religious ritual. Several of them cast glances at the strangers, but nothing was said. None of them smiled or uttered a greeting. Just in front of them a boy about nine years old who had been eating some candy pushed the empty bag into his pocket. But in his haste it dropped out again and fell to the sidewalk.
"Jasper!" the father exclaimed in a voice taut with shock and anger.
"I'm sorry, only..."
The man swung a cracking roundhouse swing at his son, hitting the boy across the face. The slapping sound echoed all across the street, but only a few heads turned. The lad staggered sideways, hands flying to his mouth, blood flowing thick from a cut on his lip and oozing from his nose.
"Pick it up now," the man said, voice easing under control. "And don't ever..."
The boy picked up the crumpled piece of white paper and stuffed it in his pocket. Ryan and the other four watched in silence. The father caught them staring.
"Sorry, all. Please don't report us for... Wife's been ill and if reported we'd..." He stopped and looked more closely at them. "Outworlders! Didn't see at first. Oh, that's all right. Come on," he said to his son, dragging him by the arm along the street.