The red-headed man, who wore a Farmer brooch, walked alongside. "Dominant, the tractor has full steam," he said. "Fire is on automatic." Rasmussen sneered at the Farmer. "Hope, Yuko, no more failures occur. Your work has been poor." Yuko touched his forehead with extended fingers and stepped back. Rasmussen pulled a lever and gripped the steering wheel. With a slow chugging noise, the tractor crept forward and, at a rapidly increasing speed, moved through the gate and a gap in the outer defenses. "Rather noisy!" I yelled. "Yes!" Toal screeched. "The Hog will hear us miles away!" "What are miles?" "A mile is 5,280 feet!" "I see!" Trailing a plume of steam, the tractor puffed somewhat majestically along a dirt road. Toal began a question and answer game, conducted in shouts, about things and affairs in the Explored Galaxy. She asked about tridie, the ultrabrain, astraplanes, and Galactic Government. She asked for more information about marriage customs and about the reasons for women's fashions always concealing elbows, knees, and ankles while often providing scant cover elsewhere. Some of her questions were difficult to answer. * * * * * The tractor now rumbled through a woodland, rank with gnarled trees crowned by gray-green leaves, and abruptly rolled into open ground with a small, walled village in the center. Rasmussen stopped the tractor. The torsos of several men appeared over the top of the wall. They looked odd, for a moment, since two were bony, and one had black hair. Rasmussen yelled, "Have you seen the Hog?" A skinny man said, "Fine weather, Dominant. Heard him at 25:30 toward the swamp." Rasmussen steered the tractor along a road that circled the wall. Nausea from the vehicle's motion crept over me. The ride was especially disconcerting, since the four leading wheels pivoted under the seats and gave an illusion that the tractor was leaving the road on curves. "What is that place?" I shouted. "I thought Joetropolis was the only town!" "Young Farmer School!" Toal yelled. "What's it for?" "Young Farmers come here for training when they're five! At twenty-two, they're sterilized and go back to Joetropolis!" I shuddered. "This perfect democracy is a bit harsh!" "The people vote for Ordinances!" "Farmers don't vote!" "No, but their parents do! Suppose it is horrible!" Toal admitted. Rasmussen turned to us, leaving the tractor to find its own way along the twisting road. He said, "No need to discuss customs with the alien!" "Watch it!" I yelled. Rasmussen rotated and steered the tractor away from a jumble of boulders. I perspired against the wind of our motion. Toal said, "Children can choose to be deported! Their parents advise them! The parents can be sterilized and stay here, or they can become aliens and be deported with the child! Must not have other children if one is suspected of being a Farmer! Must wait five years!"