Neht tried to explain that the reason they had not come up on his gerontological console was that Hisst was only 170 and Crobe was only 180.1 would have none of it. "Political prisoners," I said. "I must inspect them!" He shook his head. He pointed to the notation on Hisst's card: INCOMMUNICADO. May only speak to Crobe. And then on Crobe's card: INCOMMUNICADO. May only speak to Hisst. "They are not permitted to talk to anyone! Nobody ever goes to see them!" Neht said. "Those are Royal orders!" "Aha!" I said. "From another reign! And what am I carrying but Royal orders? The charge is proven. You DO have political prisoners here, prisoners no more insane than you or I. Well, thank you, Neht. I shall now go back and make my report that the Confederacy Asylum–" His charm was gone completely. "Please!" he wailed. "Those two are as mad as mad!" "That can only be proven by an interview in depth with both of them. And WITHOUT you or your staff coaching or jabbing pins in them! Because I like you, Neht, and do NOT want to cause trouble for you, I will accord you this favor!" "Oh, thank you," he said in a faint voice and rather huntedly beckoned for a guard. I swelled with elation. Investigative reporter skills were absolutely fantastic! Here came my next coup!
The hut was isolated. It stood upon a point which jutted like a finger from the cliffs above the sea. Two thousand feet, straight down, the Northern Ocean roared, battering its heavy green fury against the basalt barricade, using for battering rams great floating islands of white ice. We had to go through a locked gate before we could enter upon the point. The guard used a plate to unfasten the bars. "It's past noon," he said. "The cleaning crew have probably just come and gone, so you will find them reasonably sanitary. It's a good thing: usually you can smell that hut clear from here." We walked along a path between the two vertical cliffs. The wind from out of the northern pole moaned dismally. A flurry of snow beat at my mask. This was a gruesome place-think of being incarcerated here for nearly a century! After a walk of a hundred yards, we arrived at the hut. It was rectangular, built of heavy insulating block like all these huts, a kind of a fortress standing lonely by itself in the teeth of icy winds. It had two doors on the shore side. The guard approached the left-hand door. "I'll let you see Number 69,000,000,201 first." He consulted his list. "Yes, that's somebody once named Crobe. Now you must be very careful, for both of these are quite mad. I've been here sometimes guarding the cleaning detail while they work and to ensure that nobody speaks to them." "Have they ever attacked anybody?" I said. "Not that I recall." I became even more certain that this was what I said it was-political expediency. This guard had been coached by Neht, that was obvious. "You're not going in with me," I said. "My interview is technical but it may contain state secrets. So let me in there and stand well clear of the door." He looked a little uncomfortable. Then he hitched his greatcoat around him, dropped his stungun off his shoulder into his hand, put his plate against the door and gave it a shove. He glanced in and then, with another look at me and a shrug, walked off thirty feet. I repressed a thrill of excitement. I was about to see the notorious Doctor Crobe! I walked in. My eyes adjusted to the sudden gloom. The whole hut was really just one oblong room; dividing it in the center was a string of vertical bars. I scanned the area I had entered. It was a very capacious room. It was even furnished. It had shelves of books. Somebody was bent over a tub of some sort. He turned around.
His nose was too long; so was his chin. His arms looked more like the legs of birds. He had no hair left at all. He was wearing a coat, but if the cleaning crew had given him a fresh one, it was already dirty. "You're just in time," he said, as though my visit was a daily occurrence. "The fermentation is completed and I've just hooked up this tube. Let it drip a little longer into the canister and you can test it. I think it is the best I have.ever made." "What is it?" I said. "Home brew. 1 save half of my dinner every day and dump it in this tub. It ferments quite nicely." I saw he had a lid over the tub and a tube came out of its center, going through several coils before it dripped a clear fluid out the end. He removed the canister which had been receiving it, quickly putting another in its place. "Now," he said, "sit down on that comfortable couch and try this." I was amazed. This was no madman. He was even smiling pleasantly. I sat down on the indicated couch and he handed me the canister, making a sign then that I should sip. I was cautious. I removed my snow mask but I only pretended to drink. "Oh, goodness, go ahead," said Crobe. "You're not depriving me! I have gallons and gallons of it." And he indicated a rack of jugs on the far wall. Well, it couldn't kill me. I tossed it down.