They sank through the ordered vastness of Nyark the first city, into a bustle and rush that was symbolic of the Council's will to restore Nyark--and finally Earth--to their former glory. Heric was led to a quiet chamber where the Council, in their deep crescent of seats behind the Leader's throne, awaited him. He had seen them before only in newscasts, when it had awed him a little to think that in their hands lay the destiny of a world in rebirth. He was surprised now to feel that their wrinkled parchment faces and thin bodies, hidden under sleeveless blue robes, lent them a futile anonymity rather than the distinction he had expected. _Why_, he thought, _they look like scrawny, earthbound birds._ "Why am I here?" Heric demanded. Rebellion grew in him, roughening his voice. "I have broken no law, nor have I been lax in my overseeing. I protest this adjustment to what you call normalcy." "Yet you must endure it, Arnol Heric," the Leader said. A rustle of assent whispered through the robed Council. "You should not have defied our messenger. It may be too late now." Anger swelled Heric's demand. "What do you mean?" [Illustration: He felt the breath of madness touch him....] His answer was a great, cloudy bubble that sprang from nowhere about him. The Council vanished behind its milky haze. There was a brief sensation of motion, and after that--nothing. * * * * * _He was in the void of his dreams again, imprisoned in darkness. But there was a difference--the dull globe of Earth spun faint and misty, half-seen through an obscuring curtain. A smooth, hypnotic thought-current flowed into his mind from the adjuster, commanding him, warring with the half-sensed truth that still sought his awareness._ _"You are Arnol Heric, overseer of cereal plantings. You have had no disturbing dreams. Forget, Arnol Heric. There is no need for alarm...."_ _There was a long struggle before his will fought clear, and he knew that the Leader's fear of being too late had been realized. The pitted Earth-sphere grew plain, the desolate city sharpened and drew near. He walked the thronged streets and turned his face toward the east, and this time he did not repulse the truth when it lay before him._ _There was a silent room where a figure reclined laxly in a chair made massive by its crystal maze of shining coils. Two guards flanked the chair watchfully, and in it sat--_ _Himself._ Anger shook him like a terrible wind, without warning. It was all a monstrous farce, then--he was the center of it all, and they had hidden him in his overseer's niche to blind him to reality. He opened his eyes in the adjuster, pushing the futile thought-current from his mind. The guards stiffened at his movement, their silver shock-cones ready. "I know myself now," Heric said. He stood up, shaking off the web of crystal contacts from the adjuster. "And I know you. Put away your useless weapons."