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The observer ran a crosscheck on all known fugitives. The man in the school plaza was without a badge. When SEN’s picture turned up on one of the screens, the observer dialed a closeup of the man in the plaza.

“Visual contact with 5241 prefix SEN,” he spoke into his lip mike. “Habot 25 Con H, PS947.”

Voices crackled in his earphones.

“PS947? Is he molesting the children?”

“Not yet.”

“Request PB 848: officer 1088 proceed with recovery of felon 5241 SEN. Use caution, protect children. Current position Habot 25, Con H, PS947.”

“Negative sweep of Con J, Section H.”

“If 5241SEN is not the unidentified felon traveling with 1138THX, then who the hell is he?”

“Better get analysis to worry that one.”

“Will comply.”

SEN had attracted most of the children in the plaza by now. They were clustered around htm. The first boy was reciting from his lessons, but the older boy corrected:

“No… impresses on each of us.”

“That’s not how it goes.”

“Yes it is,” the older boy said, drawing himself up to dominate the younger child physically.

“Now, now,” said SEN. “Don’t argue. Go on, continue the lesson.”

The younger boy singsonged, “There are no other rational alternatives in this way. We eliminate the economic function generated by the contrast of separate but compatible energies…”

“Elements! Compatible elements,” the older boy said.

“Energies!”

“There, there,” SEN soothed.

“I know the whole text by heart,” the younger boy said proudly. “I got a perfect mark on my test…” Then, a little wistfully, “I wish I knew what it meant. All those words…”

A chrome robot came down the moving staircase. SEN saw it and stood up. The children, turning to follow his gaze, flowed back away from him silently as the robot approached.

“SEN 5241,” the robot said.

“Yes.”

Smoothly, almost gently, the robot turned SEN around and pulled his arms behind his back. He taped SEN’S hands together at the wrists, then taped his mouth and eyes and led him off. The children stood there for a long, long moment and watched SEN being led off by the policeman, back up the escalator.

“See?” said the younger boy. “I told you he really was a felon.”

Chapter 20

THX hurried up the winding metal stairway with SRT a few steps behind him. In the steel-walled shaft of the maintenance well their slippered feet made odd shushing sounds that echoed and amplified wierdly.

The third level was also practically deserted. Most of the area was taken up by reproclinics and laboratories, singleshift installations where automated machines did most of the work.

As they stepped out of the maintenance stairwell and into the corridor, a taped voice from overhead told them:

“This is a restricted area. Authorized personnel only.”

THX ignored the warning and went to the directory map on the opposite wall of the white, glarelessly lit corridor. The directory showed that the reproclinics were all neatly arranged in alphanumerical order. LUH 3417 would be in the three-dimensional matrix of clinic 12, row 21, file 8. He glanced down the deserted corridor, then motioned to SRT to follow him.

“You are engaged in an unauthorized action. Check procedure manual F-45. This is a double-A restricted area. Remain where you are.”

The corridor emptied into a vast open area filled with rows of slabs that bore dead bodies. Everything was bathed in a cold, eery bluish light.

“Antibacterial,” SRT murmured.

“Violation! Unauthorized personnel are not allowed in this area. Stand where you are. Mercicontrol officers are on the way.”

“We don’t have much time,” SRT said.

“I know.” THX started moving between the slabs, heading in the direction of clinic 12.

SRT’s eyes widened as he looked at the corpses they were passing.

“All the insides are gone!”

THX nodded.

“Look at that one,” SRT pointed to a body with an oversized head. “He must have been a genius!”

What if you find LUH’s body here? THX asked himself.

Another part of his mind answered coldly, She’s been destroyed. They’re not using her organs. Destroyed, not consumed.

But still he shuddered and forced himself to look straight ahead, not at the bodies.

Destroyed. Destroyed.

How?

What did they do to her? What were her last moments like. How could they

“Hey, here’s one with eyes! Why would they leave the eyes?”

Despite himself, THX turned to look at the body SRT was jabbering about.

“Oh no…” He sank to the edge of the slab on which the body rested. His legs seemed too weak to move.

“Are you all right?” SRT bent over him. “Want something to eat? I bet we could find food around here someplace.”

His stomach churning, THX could only shake his head.

“Well, what’s the matter? What’s wrong?”

Forcing himself to speak, “I… knew him. TWA—he was a prisoner with me… He was blind. That’s why they left the eyes… They’re useless.”

SRT straightened up. “Oh.”

The black man glanced around. Faintly, from far away, they heard the inevitable voices of Mercicontroclass="underline"

“Both felons observed entering Reproduction Center Complex. Second felon now positively identified as 5555 prefix SRT. Apprehension pending.”

“Monetary unit totaclass="underline" 1810 and rising.”

“Escaped felon 5241 prefix SEN apprehended and 140 now in custody. Total expenditure 4377 units under budget. Congratulations! Be efficient. Be happy.”

SRT grimaced. “Hey, they’re coming closer. Look… if there’s something you want to do in here, we’d better do it and get out. We’ve still got to figure out a place where we can hide—can’t keep running forever.”

Nodding, THX forced himself to stand up.

“I knew him,” he mumbled again. “In prison.”

“Well, at least his troubles are over. Soon he’ll be a plastic hexagon, just like the rest of them.”

“What?”

“That’s what they do with the bodies… didn’t you know that? Make them into the consumption units for the consumalls. Neat, huh? Nothing’s wasted.”

Suddenly a door banged open noisily somewhere up ahead of them and someone entered the clinic, whistling atrociously.

For a panicked instant, THX didn’t know what to do. He froze in terror. Behind them were the police robots. Up ahead was—what?

He saw SRT quickly move to an unoccupied slab and lay down on it. After a split- second’s revulsion, THX did the same.

Be still! Be absolutely still, THX commanded himself. Eyes closed. No blinking. Shallow breathing, don’t let him see your chest move.

He tried to make himself believe that he was frozen, he was paralyzed, he was truly dead. The whistling came closer, a raucous, horrible noise, punctuated by the slapping sounds of slippered feet against the tile flooring of the clinic. Then there was an odd clicking sound, like a staple gun working. The whistling was awful, tuneless, shrill and loud. Pad, pad, pad—click- click! Pad, pad, pad—click-click!

The sounds were getting closer. THX wanted to steal a glimpse at what was going on, but he didn’t dare move.

Then the footsteps came so close that he knew the whistler was right next to him. He could smell the antiseptic on him, even feel his breath…

Something cool and hard touched his left ear and then PAIN exploded there, seared through him like a white-hot iron. He leaped off the slab and his roar of pain was accompanied by the shriek of the registration clerk who had been tagging the corpses.