There was a flurry and a woman near Chandler held up a key ring with a tiny knife on it "Penknife? Hell, yes; get rid of it. Throw it in the outfield. You can pick it up after the meeting." A hundred eyes watched the pearly object fly. "We ought to be all right here," said the red-headed man. "The kids have been playing every day this week and nobody looked in. But _watch your neighbor_. See anything suspicious, don't wait. Don't take a chance. Holler 'Kill the umpire!' or anything you like, but holler. Good and loud." He paused, breathing hard. "All right, Hsi. Introduce him." The parts man took Chandler firmly by the shoulder. "This fellow has something for us," he said. "He's working for the exec Koitska, building what can't be anything else but a duplicate of the machine that they use to control us. He--" "Wait a minute!" A bearded man came forward and peered furiously into Chandler's face. "Look at his head! Don't you see he's branded?" Chandler touched his scar as the man with the beard hissed, "Damned hoaxer! This is the lowest species of life on the face of the earth--someone who pretended to be possessed in order to do some damned dirty act What was it, hoaxer? Murder? Burning babies alive?" Hsi economically let go of Chandler's shoulder, half turned the bearded man with one hand and swung with the other. "Shut up, Linton. Wait till you hear what he's got for us." The bearded man, sprawling and groggy, slowly rose as Hsi explained tersely what he had guessed of Chandler's work--as much as Chandler himself knew, it seemed. "Maybe this is only a duplicate. Maybe it won't be used. But maybe it will--and Chandler's the man who can sabotage it! How would you like that? The execs switching over to this equipment while the other one is down for maintenance--and their headsets don't work!" There was a terrible silence, except for the sounds of the children playing ball. Two runs had just scored. Chandler recognized the silence. It was hope. Linton broke it, his blue eyes gleaming above the beard. "No! Better than that. Why wait? We can _use_ this fellow's machine. Set it up, get us some headsets--and we can control the execs themselves!" * * * * * The silence was even longer; then there was a babble of discussion, but Chandler did not take part in it. He was thinking. It was a tremendous thought. Suppose a man like himself were actually able to do what they wanted of him. Never mind the practical difficulties--learning how it worked, getting a headset, bypassing the traps Koitska would surely have set to prevent just that. Never mind the penalties for failure. Suppose he could make it work, and find fifty headsets, and fit them to the fifty men and women here in this clandestine meeting of the Society of Slaves.... Would there, after all, be any change worth mentioning in the state of the world?