Flattered by the importance of her task, she set to work with a will. Several hours later, she awakened her husband, who was slumbering on the couch. "I've got them all finished except these," she said. "In this one, I'm afraid I don't understand that word." Nob glanced at the paper. "Oh, propaganda. That means giving the people the facts, whether true or false. It's very important in any war." "I don't see why." "It's obvious. To have a genuine Earth-style war, you need ideological differences. That's why we chose a dictatorship and the other continent chose a democracy. The job of propaganda is to keep us different." "I see," she said dubiously. "Well, this other paper is from General Heglm of Security. He asks what you are doing about the spy situation. He says it's very serious." "I had forgotten about that. He's right, it's reached a crisis point." He put the paper in his pocket. "I'm going to take care of that personally, first thing in the morning." In the last few hours, his wife had made no less than eight Major Policy Decisions, twenty Codifications, eight Unifications, and three Clarifications. Nob didn't bother to read them over. He trusted his wife's good judgment and common sense. He went to bed that night with the feeling of a job well done. And before he fell asleep, he figured out exactly what he would do about the spy situation. * * * * * The next morning, Nob's orders went out by all means of communication. The results were gratifyingly swift, since the people of the dictatorship were completely behind the war and dutifully loved and hated their Empress, in whose name the order was signed. A typical scene took place in the clubcar of the Char-Xil express. The occupants of the car, twenty-three commuting businessmen, sealed the doors as soon as they received Nob's order. The best-read among them, a salesman by the name of Thrang, was elected spokesman for the group. "Boys," said Thrang, "I guess I don't have to tell you anything about the importance of this order. We all know what war is by now, don't we?" "We sure do!" "War is hell!" "The war that the enemy thrust on us!" "The war to start all wars!" "That's right," Thrang said. "And I guess we've all felt the pinch since the war started. Eh, boys?" "I've done my part," said a man named Draxil. "When the Prime Minister called for a cigarette shortage, I dumped twenty carloads of tobacco in the Hunto River. Now we got cigarette rationing!" "That's the spirit," Thrang said. "I know for a fact that others among you have done the same with sugar, canned goods, butter, meat and a hundred items. Everything's rationed now; everyone feels the pinch. But, boys, there's still more we have to do. Now a spy situation has come up and it calls for quick action." "Haven't we done enough?" groaned a clothing-store owner.