"Your brother tells me you want a son of your own," he said. George nodded, and stooped to put a small, mossy log in his basket. "Bill doesn't want you to, huh?" George didn't feel very comfortable discussing the family with Orville. That was Bill's job. After some thought, he said, "Not right now." Orville said, "I can see that that makes you unhappy. No one should be unhappy here. I'll see what I can do. Come down to Ops tomorrow morning, we'll talk more." When George got back to the cabin, Bill was lying on his back on the floor, laughing while Tom climbed all over him. Tom still babbled, but they were real words now, though nonsensical. With his constant talking, he reminded George of Joe, and that made him even sadder. # George had never been to Ops before, but he knew where it was, in a collection of low-slung prefab buildings hidden behind the topiary sculptures near MagicLand. He clutched his right thumb nervously as he stood and waited in the reception area for Orville to come and get him. The secretary had taken his name and buzzed Orville, and now kept sneaking him horrified looks. George's family were the only of their kind to leave their homeland and join the soft ones, and here at Ops, there were any number of low-ranking babus who'd never heard tell of them. Orville was all smiles and effusion as he breezed through the glass security-door and pounded George on the back. "George! I'm so _glad_ you came down!" He took George by the arm and led him away, stopping to wink at the secretary, who looked at him with a mixture of disgust and admiration. Orville's office was buried in a twisting maze of door-lined, fluorescent-lit corridors, where busy soft ones talked on telephones and clattered on keyboards. He led George through his door, into an office as big as George's cabin. Orville paced and talked. "Did I say I was glad you came? I'm glad you came. Now, let's talk about Bill. Bill's happy. He's got what he wants. A son. He doesn't have to take care of Joe. It's good for him." He paused and looked at George. George nodded. "OK. There's a problem, though. You want a son, too, only Bill won't allow it." It didn't need any comment, so George kept quiet. "My thinking is, Bill's so busy with Tom, he wouldn't really notice if you were there or not. You're an adult, you can take care of yourself. Do you see where I'm going with this?" George assumed it was a rhetorical question. "Right. What I'm thinking is, there's no reason that both of you shouldn't have your own son. This is Pleasure Island, after all. No one should be sad on Pleasure Island. You've worked hard and well for us for a long time here. We can take care of you." George felt an uncomfortable sensation in his stomach, a knot of guilt like rising vomit.