“Wise? What’s that got to do with it? It’s logical. It’s the proof of Cavesword. Death is fine so why not die?” “Why not live?” “It’s the same thing.” “I would say not.” “Well, you ought to play it up a little more anyway. I meant to talk about it at the last directors’ meeting but there wasn’t time.” “Does Cave know about this? About the extent....” “Sure does.” Paul headed for the door. “He thinks it’s fine. Proves what he says and it gives other people nerve. This thing is working.” There was no doubt about that of course. It is hard, precisely, to give the sense of those two years when the main work got done in a series of toppling waves which swept into history the remaining edifices of other faiths and institutions. I had no real firsthand impressions of the country for I seldom stirred from our headquarters. I’d sold the house on the river. I had cut off all contacts with old friends and my life, simply, was Cave. I edited the _Journal_, or rather presided over the editors. I discussed points of doctrine with the various Residents who came to see me in the yellow tower. They were devoted men and their enthusiasm was heartening, if not always communicable to me. Each week was published further commentaries on Cavesword and I found my time grew short if I tried to read them all. I contented myself, finally, with synopses prepared for me by the _Journal’s_ staff and I felt like a television emperor keeping abreast of contemporary letters, but there was not enough time, as it was, in which to contemplate the great things. Once a week we all dined with Cave. Except for that informal occasion we seldom saw him; though he complained continually about his captivity (and it was exactly that; we were all captives to some degree), he was cheerful enough. Paul saw to it that he was kept busy all day addressing Residents and Communicators, answering their questions, firing them by the mere fact of his presence. It was quite common for strangers to faint upon seeing him for the first time, as a man and not as a figure on a bit of film. He was good-natured, though occasionally embarrassed by the chosen groups which were admitted to him. He seldom talked privately to any of them, however, and he showed not the faintest interest in their problems, not even bothering to learn their names. He was only interested in where they were from and Paul, aware of this, as an added inducement to keep Cave amenable, took to including each group at least one Cavite from some far place like Malaya or Ceylon.