* * * * * After approving his accent, which had improved under her tutelage, Ge-Ge took him to a party the following Saturday. The party was held in an ill-lighted railroad flat. People congregated cross-legged on the bare floor. Shamar listened to a man complaining that citizens were being taxed beyond all endurance to support the enforced automation program. "They aren't interested in building consumer goods. They're interested in building factories to build consumer goods and blow them up testing them. Or the factories are always obsolete just as soon as they finish them, and they can't phase into their new production setup and Hundred Year Plan." Ge-Ge whispered a warning to him to beware of spies. "Spies?" "The Party," she said, drawing him to one side. "But--but--you mean the Party just lets people talk like this?" "Whatever harm does it do?" she asked. "Everybody benefits from talking out their aggressions. Now, have another drink and relax, and Shamar, be careful! Nobody minds local crackpots, but nobody wants _foreign_ crackpots!" She led him to another drink and left him standing with the host. "Nice party," Shamar said. "Thank you," the host said. "I find it very invigorating. As long as there's still people that think and that criticize on this planet, I feel there's hope, don't you? This is your first time? I don't recall your face. I have a study group that meets Wednesday nights. You're welcome to come. We have very stimulating discussions about government and politics. Please do come, any time you can. Just drop in any time after eight. What was your name again?" "Shamar the Worker." "Interesting name," the host said. "Another drink?" Later, Shamar found himself in an intense conversation with a bearded youth of perhaps seventeen. "A guy's responsible for his own conduct, right? Right! I'm responsible for _their_ conduct? Each man goes to hell in his own way, right? Right! I don't want anything to do with them. You can't do anything about it, man, that's what I'm telling you. I don't seem to be getting through. Don't you see, it's a machine...." "But if everybody joined the Party," Shamar suggested. "So everybody joins? So what's new? Okay, you vote in the Party elections. What do you get? You get these two guys running for office: one is slightly left of center and one is slightly right of center. And both are four-square for the Automated Factory Program. Just suppose you did get a radical--suppose they accidentally let one slip through? He goes off and they argue him into line, and when he comes back, you say, 'Like, man, what happened?' And so he tells you, 'Well, I couldn't do anything about it.' That's just what I'm telling you." "I can't see that," Shamar said. "I just don't believe that." * * * * *