"She's the one. Instability and escapism. And look at the kind of clothes she wears." "What are you doing?" I whispered. This was how they'd taken my parents! "You're under detention as a criminal against society. Miss," one of the proctors said. "We're all sorry." Another one stepped forward and held out a hand to me as one might a child. "Come along now." "_No!_" I backed away from them, and when they trapped me in the corner I kicked and screamed at them. "Leave me alone, leave me alone! You're killers!" One of them grabbed me and held me around my waist, my arms pinned to my sides. "We're not killers, Miss," he said, and his voice was incredibly calm. "We have nothing to do with it." I twisted free and struck at him, tearing skin from his face with my nails. "_Weren't my parents enough?_" One of them pointed another device at me, and I blacked out. * * * * * When I came to, I was being carried by three proctors through a door and down a hall. My head was fuzzy and throbbing. I caught a glimpse of a stenciled sign in the corridor, lettered neatly over an arrow pointing in the direction we were going. The words leaped out at me: _Execution Arena Floor_. One of the proctors saw that I was conscious and looked down at me pleasantly. "No sense struggling now," he said. "It'll be over soon." I stared back at him for a moment, not understanding. But then the kindness in his face became clear. He pitied me! The proctors were carrying me as gently as possible, as though I were a dog with a broken leg. I felt incredibly sad, and so tired that I was sure I must suddenly weigh twice as much. But they carried me through the door and out onto the floor of the Arena, and there were a thousand people up in the dark waiting for me. There were floodlights on the chairs where the others of the Condemned were strapped. They sat quietly, dully, as though they were the Executioners and the people above were waiting for _them_ to press the buttons. But it was insane! How could they take it so calmly----were they dead already? Did they _want_ to die? Or was I really insane? Where _was_ the sanity in this Arena? I couldn't lie still while they carried me to that chair. I was frightened. I was terrified! They were all so silent, so calm, so kindly. As though nothing at all were happening--nothing at all! I struggled, trying to fight my way free. I kicked and screamed; I had to make some noise in that black silence. But they held me, and strapped me into the chair. And still there was no sound in the Arena. I felt a shock, a tension, and I looked up. There, in the audience, sitting before his little panel with the blue light and the red Executioner's button, was a young man staring at me. I could feel his stare, like a cool hand touching me. It drew me up, into the dimness.... I felt my eyes widen with recognition. "_Bob_," I said. His reply sounded deep inside my mind, "_Hello, Rosebud._"