"Twenty-six. Yes, twenty-six, so if they don't call you this time, you'll be safe. Safe, I can hardly believe it." "Nine minutes," said Temple in the darkness. Stephanie had drawn the blinds earlier, had dialed for sound-proofing. The screaming in the streets came to them as not the faintest whisper. But the song which became briefly, masochistically popular every two years and two months had spoiled their feeling of seclusion. "Tell me again, Kit." "What." "You know what." He let her come to him, let her hug him fiercely and whimper against his chest. He remained passive although it hurt, occasionally stroking her hair. He could not assert himself for another--he looked at his strap chrono--for another eight minutes. He might regret it, if he did, for a lifetime. "Tell me, Kit." "I'll marry you, Steffy. In eight minutes, less than eight minutes, I'll go down and get the license. We'll marry as soon as it's legal." "This is the last time they have a chance for you. I mean, they won't change the law?" Temple shook his head. "They don't have to. They meet their quota this way." "I'm scared." "You and everyone else in North America, Steffy." She was trembling against him. "It's cold for June." "It's warm in here." He kissed her moist eyes, her nose, her lips. "Oh God, Kit. Five minutes." "Five minutes to freedom," he said jauntily. He did not feel that way at all. Apprehension clutched at his chest with tight, painful fingers, almost making it difficult for him to breathe. "Turn it on, Kit." He dialed the telio in time to see the announcer's insincere smile. Smile seventeen, Kit thought wryly. Patriotic sacrifice. "Every seven-hundred eighty days," said the announcer, "two-hundred of Center City's young men are selected to serve their country for an indeterminate period regulated rigidly by a rotation system." "Liar!" Stephanie cried. "No one ever comes back. It's been thirty years since the first group and not one of them...." "Shh," Temple raised a finger to his lips. "This is the thirteenth call since the inception of what is popularly referred to as the Nowhere Journey," said the announcer. "Obviously, the two hundred young men from Center City and the thousands from all over this hemisphere do not in reality embark on a Journey to Nowhere. That is quite meaningless." "Hooray for him," Temple laughed. "I wish he'd get on with it." "No, ladies and gentlemen, we use the word Nowhere merely because we are not aware of the ultimate destination. Security reasons make it impossible to...." "Yes, yes," said Stephanie impatiently. "Go on." "... therefore, the Nowhere Journey. With a maximum security lid on the whole project, we don't even know why our men are sent, or by what means. We know only that they go somewhere and not nowhere, bravely and not fearfully, for a purpose vital to the security of this nation and not to slake the thirst of a chessman of regiments and divisions.