There could be but one end to it, of course. One of the first official actions of Dictator Turpan, from the eminence of his lofty, translucent tent with its red and yellow flag on top, was to decree a social festival, to which the other two settlements were invited for eating, drinking and fraternization unrestrained. How unrestrained no one (unless Turpan) could have predicted until late that evening, when the aspect of it began to be Bacchanalian, with the mores and the inhibitions of these intellectuals stripped off, one by one, like the garments of civilization. Stephen was shocked. Secretly he had approved, at least, of the ideals of these rebels. But what hope could there be if they could so easily fall under the domination of Turpan? Still, there was something insidiously compelling about the man. As for Stephen, he had been allotted his position in this new life, and he was not flattered. "You shall be my body servant," Turpan had said. "I can more nearly trust you than anyone else, since your life, as well as mine, hangs in the balance of my ascendance." "I would betray you at the earliest opportunity." Turpan laughed. "I am sure that you would. But you value your life, and you will be careful. Here with me you are safer from intrigue. Later I shall find confidants and kindred spirits here, no doubt, who will help me to consolidate my power." "They will rise and destroy you before that time. You must eventually sleep." "I sleep as lightly as a cat. Besides, so long as they are inflamed, as they are tonight, with one another, they are not apt to become inflamed against me. For every male there is a female. Not all of them will pair tonight--nor even in a week. And by the time this obsession fails to claim their attention I shall be firmly seated upon my throne. There will be no women left for you or me, of course, but you will have your work, as you noted--and it will consist of keeping my boots shined and my clothing pressed." "And you?" Stephen said bitterly. "Ah, yes. What of the dictator? I have a confession to make to you, my familiar. I prefer it this way. If I should simply choose a woman, there would be no zest to it. Therefore I shall wait until they are all taken, and then I shall steal one--each week. Now go out and enjoy yourself." Stephen, steeped in gloom, left the tent. No one paid any attention to him. There was a good deal of screaming and laughing. Too much screaming. He walked along the avenue of tents. Beyond the temporary floodlights of the atomic generators it was quite dark. Yet around the horizon played the flickering lights of the aurora, higher now that the sun was beyond the sea. A thousand years from now it would be there, visible each night, as common to that distant generation as starlight.