It starts with one man and an idea. Many men may have had the same idea, but it takes one man to express it at the right time, to apply it. Then the planning, by many or by one. And, finally, the last step is persuasion. The man who had the original idea must convince others. He must indoctrinate them with this new concept so that they believe. No more. For once a man, who has been a stable entity in a stable organization, develops and believes a strange and contradictory idea--the result is inevitable. Misunderstanding, resentment, hate, violence. The cycle carries on from there with its own momentum. And the people who are swept up in it, and that may include anyone from the most innocent to the perpetrator himself, are as helpless to control its outcome as are the atoms helpless to control the nova they started in a sun. So this violence on Lyrane had begun, with one man, then a group of men, and then had come the misunderstanding, resentment, hate, violence cycle. It manifested itself in the offices of Universal Relief as a logical study in sociology and economics. But to Yma Garbin and her father, it was pure hell. When had it all started, and when would it end? Did it start that first day when an orphanage in the capital city burned to the ground, and not one of the many philanthropists made a move or an offer to aid or restore? Yes, that was when it started for the public, but it had really started in midnight conversations in locked rooms. Words, an idea, then the act--and who is to say which is more real? But there was no questioning the reality of what she had seen at Tomlin's house. That was yesterday. Tomlin, the greatest living biochemist in the empire, was nothing but a sad, huddled corpse. His beautiful mansion was slashed and looted, and then fired to the ground. The air was filled with the odor of burning, of death--but especially the mentally sickening, defeating odor of violence. This was true of the whole planet, especially in the cities. The great houses beseiged by furious mobs, shattered. Night full of stray shots and casual death. Every man with that cold gleam in his eye when he looked at even his best friend. "Did you cause it?" Yma lay in her father's arms, her mind reeling through this wax works of personal horror and death. This scene was interrupted by a gyro landing on the lawn. * * * * * Erol watched it curiously; his daughter, tensely. A man emerged and strode towards them. He was a young man, with good and intelligent features, and Erol felt no fear. "Dr. Garbin," the man addressed him, "I'm delighted to find you. I tried to see others--I was always too late." He paused, then said, "If anyone should be able to tell me what has happened, you should." A slight suspicion showed in Erol's face while Yma looked as wary as an animal. "If I can help you in any way, sir, I shall be delighted," Erol said.