She was not only trying to get me to commit nonconformity, but making heretical remarks besides. I awoke that time and half-expected a Deacon to pop out of the tube and turn his electric club upon me. And I heard the voice nearly every night. It hammered away. "_What if you do fail? Almost anything would be better than the miserable existence you're leading now!_" One morning I even caught myself wondering just how I'd go about this idea of hers. Wondering what the first step might be. She seemed to read my thoughts. That night she said, "_Consult the cybs in the Govpub office. If you look hard enough and long enough, you'll find a way._" Now, on this morning of the seventeenth day in the ninth month, I ate my boiled egg slowly and actually toyed with the idea. I thought of being on productive status again. I had almost lost my fanatical craving to be useful to the State, but I did want to be busy--desperately. I didn't want to be despised any more. I didn't want to be lonely. I wanted to reproduce myself. I made my decision suddenly. Waves of emotion carried me along. I got up, crossed the room to the directory, and pushbuttoned to find the location of the nearest Govpub office. I didn't know what would happen and almost didn't care. II Like most important places, the Govpub Office in Center Four was underground. I could have taken a tunnelcar more quickly, but it seemed pleasanter to travel topside. Or maybe I just wanted to put this off a bit. Think about it. Compose myself. At the entrance to the Govpub warren there was a big director cyb, a plate with a speaker and switch. The sign on it said to switch it on and get close to the speaker and I did. The cyb's mechanical voice--they never seem to get the "th" sounds right--said, "This is Branch Four of the Office of Government Publications. Say, 'Publications,' and/or, 'Information desired,' as thoroughly and concisely as possible. Use approved voice and standard phraseology." Well, simple enough so far. I had always rather prided myself on my knack for approved voice, those flat, emotionless tones that indicate efficiency. And I would never forget how to speak Statese. I said, "Applicant desires all pertinent information relative assignment, change or amendment of State Serial designations, otherwise generally referred to as nomenclature." There was a second's delay while the audio patterns tripped relays and brought the memory tubes in. Then the cyb said, "Proceed to Numbering and Identity section. Consult alphabetical list and diagram on your left for location of same." "Thanks," I said absent-mindedly. I started to turn away and the cyb said, "Information on tanks is military information and classified. State authorization for--" I switched it off. * * * * * Numbering and Identity wasn't hard to find. I took the shaft to the proper level and then it was only a walk of a few hundred yards through the glowlit corridors.