The next time David MacKinnon looked up Persephone he found her in a state of extreme agitation. His own wounded pride was forgotten at once. 'Why, my dear,' he said, 'whatever in the world is the matter?' Gradually he gathered that she had been present at a conversation between Magee and the Doctor, and had heard, for the first time, of the impending military operation against the United States. He patted her hand. 'So that's all it is,' he observed in a relieved voice. 'I thought something was wrong with you yourself.' '"That's all-" David MacKinnon, do you mean to stand there and tell me that you knew about this, and don't consider it worth worrying about?' 'Me? Why should I? And for that matter, what could I do?' 'What could you do? You could go outside and warn them-that's what you could do ... As to why you should-Dave, you're impossible!' She burst into tears and ran from the room. He stared after her, mouth open, then borrowed from his remotest ancestor by observing to himself that women are hard to figure out. Persephone did not appear at lunch. MacKinnon asked the Doctor where she was. 'Had her lunch,' the Doctor told him, between mouthfuls. 'Started for the Gateway.' 'What! Why did you let her do that?' 'Free agent. Wouldn't have obeyed me anyway. She'll be all right.' Dave did not hear the last, being already out of the room and running out of the house. He found her just backing her little motorcycle runabout out of its shed. 'Persephone!' 'What do you want?' she asked with frozen dignity beyond her years. 'You mustn't do this! That's where the Fader got hurt!' 'I am going. Please stand aside.' 'Then I'm going with you.' 'Why should you?' 'To take care of you.' She sniffed. 'As if anyone would dare to touch me.' There was a measure of truth in what she said. The Doctor, and every member of his household, enjoyed a personal immunity unlike that of anyone else in Coventry. As a natural consequence of the set-up, Coventry had almost no competent medical men. The number of physicians who committed social damage was small. The proportion of such who declined psychiatric treatment was negligible, and this negligible remainder were almost sure to be unreliable bunglers in their profession. The Doctor was a natural healer, in voluntary exile in order that he might enjoy the opportunity to practice his art in the richest available field. He cared nothing for dry research; what he wanted was patients, the sicker the better, that he might make them well again. He was above custom and above law. In the Free State the Liberator depended on him for insulin to hold his own death from diabetes at arm's length. In New America his beneficiaries were equally powerful. Even among the Angels of the Lord the Prophet himself accepted the dicta of the Doctor without question. But MacKinnon was not satisfied. Some ignorant fool, he was afraid, might do the child some harm without realizing her protected status. He got no further chance to protest; she started the little runabout suddenly, and forced him to jump out of its path. When he had recovered his balance, she was far down the lane. He could not catch her. She was back in less than four hours. He had expected that; if a person as elusive as Fader had not been able to reach the Gate at night, it was not likely that a young girl could do so in daylight. His first feeling was one of simple relief, then he eagerly awaited an opportunity to speak to her. During her absence he had been turning over the situation in his mind. It was a foregone conclusion that she would fail; he wished to rehabilitate himself in her eyes; therefore, he would help her in the project nearest her heart-he himself would carry the warning to the Outside! Perhaps she would ask for such help. In fact, it seemed likely. But the time she returned he had convinced himself that she was certain to ask his help. He would agree-with simple dignity-and off he would go, perhaps to be wounded, or killed, but an heroic figure, even if he failed. He pictured himself subconsciously as a blend of Sydney Carton, the White Knight, the man who carried the message to Garcia and just a dash of d'Artagnan. But she did not ask him-she would not even give him a chance to talk with her.
She did not appear at dinner. After dinner she was closeted with the Doctor in his study. When she reappeared she went directly to her room. He finally concluded that he might as well go to bed himself. To bed, and then to sleep, and take it up again in the morning-But it's not as simple as that. The unfriendly walls stared back at him, and the other, critical half of his mind decided to make a night of it. Fool! She doesn't want your help. Why should she? What have you got that Fader hasn't got?-and better. To her, you are just one of the screwloose multitude you've seen all around you in this place. But I'm not crazy!-just because I choose not to submit to the dictation of others doesn't make me crazy. Doesn't it, though? All the rest of them in here are lamebrains, what's so fancy about you? Not all of them-how about the Doctor, and-don't kid yourself, chump, the Doctor and Mother Johnston are here for their own reasons; they weren't sentenced. And Persephone was born here. How about Magee?-He was certainly rational-or seemed so. He found himself resenting, with illogical bitterness, Magee's apparent stability. Why should he be any different from the rest of us? The rest of us? He had classed himself with the other inhabitants of Coventry. All right, all right, admit it, you fool-you're just like the rest of them; turned out because the decent people won't have you-and too damned stubborn to admit that you need treatment. But the thought of treatment turned him cold, and made him think of his father again. Why should that be? He recalled something the Doctor had said to him a couple of days before: 'What you need, son, is to stand up to your father and tell him off. Pity more children don't tell their parents to go to hell!' He turned on the light and tried to read. But it was no use. Why should Persephonie care what happened to the people Outside?-She didn't know them; she had no friends there. If he had no obligations to them, how could she possibly care? No obligations? You had a soft, easy life for many years-all they asked was that you behave yourself. For that matter, where would you be now, if the Doctor had stopped to ask whether or not he owed you anything? He was still wearily chewing the bitter cud of self-examination when the first cold and colorless light of morning filtered in. He got up, threw a robe around him, and tiptoed down the hall to Magee's room. The door was ajar. He stuck his head in, and whispered, 'Fader-Are you awake?' 'Come in, kid,' Magee answered quietly. 'What's the trouble? No can sleep?' 'No -, 'Neither can I. Sit down, and we'll carry the banner together.' 'Fader, I'm going to make a break for it. I'm going Outside.' 'Huh? When?' 'Right away.' 'Risky business, kid. Wait a few days, and I'll try it with you.' 'No, I can't wait for you to get well. I'm going out to warn the United States!' Magee's eyed widened a little, but his voice was unchanged. 'You haven't let that spindly kid sell you a bill of goods, Dave?' 'No. Not exactly. I'm doing this for myself-It's something I need to do. See here, Fader, what about this weapon? Have they really got something that could threaten the United States?' 'I'm afraid so,' Magee admitted. 'I don't know much about it, but it makes blasters look sick. More range-I don't know what they expect to do about the Barrier, but I saw 'em stringing heavy power lines before I got winged. Say, if you do get outside, here's a chap you might look up; in fact, be sure to. He's got influence.' Magee scrawled something on a scrap of paper, folded the scrap, and handed it to MacKinnon, who pocketed it absent-mindedly and went on: 'How closely is the Gate guarded, Fader?' 'You can't get out the Gate; that's out of the question. Here's what you will have to do-' He tore off another piece of paper and commenced sketching and explaining. Dave shook hands with Magee before he left. 'You'll say goodbye for me, won't you? And thank the Doctor? I'd rather just slide out before anyone is up.' 'Of course, kid,' the Fader assured him.