The moon had risen and the broad glades were silver green and the trees were casting shadows. Voices were barking back and forth within the woods. "Over that way!" called one. "Cut 'em off! Cut 'em off!" yelled another. A man and woman, both entirely naked, both speckled with wounds and bruises, all standard in questioning, stumbled into the clearing. Their eyes were wild, big for their faces. They were thin. They gasped for breath. They looked around them, rats in mazes, and then saw me. They drew back. "This way!" called a voice from the wood. Another shot rang out. I stared at the man and woman, still too surprised to know what to do or say. They were the two prisoners I had seen in the jetcopter on my way to Center One. IV Maybe I was not quite awake. Maybe I was not really bright, though everybody thinks of himself as bright, I suppose. Maybe it was everything that had happened since the renumbering. Maybe I was fed up and maybe something about the quiet woods called out: _Rebel! Rebel!_ I don't know. I pointed to the brook, the overhanging bank, and said, "In there! Quick!" They scuttled. They passed me and looked at me half-thankfully, half-fearfully. The voices came nearer. "Come on! This way! They can't get far!" I wrapped myself in my cloak and sat down and pretended to be gazing at the stars. A moment later three Deacons burst upon the clearing. I turned slowly, and stared at them, showing mild artificial surprise. Handsome, burly fellows. The one in the middle was a positive Apollo; I was sure that he waved his hair. He glared at me. "You," he said. "Me?" "Yes, you. What are you doing here?" I said, "I'm sitting here." "What for?" "The night air. To study the stars. Get a change of scene." I shrugged. Apollo stepped forward and held out his hand. "Your tag." This was it. When he saw my four letter name he'd really start working on me. I unsnapped the tag from my neck band and handed it to him. He looked at it, but didn't change expression. The Deacons are well-trained. He looked up again. "N/P, eh?" "Yes." "And you belong in Center Four." "Yes." "Explain." I did. Or tried to. Things were roiling around inside me, keeping me from thinking clearly. Once, as I talked, I thought I heard movement under the bank, but the Deacons didn't seem to notice anything. I tried to tell them of my troubles. There was no sympathy in their eyes. Apollo said, "See anybody pass by here?" "Pass by?" I hoped my look was innocent. "Who?" "Two fugitives. Nonconforms. Escaped during interview. Got the force screen turned off somehow--must have had spies helping them. You didn't see them, eh?" I shook my head. "I haven't seen anyone for several hours." * * * * *