"Training is training," Derban said. "Got to put up with it, because what can you do about it?" Albin grinned wryly. "I told somebody else that, last night," he said. "Man named Dodd--hell, you know Johnny Dodd. Told him he needed some fun. Holy jumping beavers--fun." "Maybe you need some," Derban said. "Not like last night, I don't," Albin said, and the elevator door opened. Now others took over, guiding the Alberts to their individual places on the training floor. Each had a small room to himself, and each room had a spy-TV high up in a corner as a safeguard. But the spy-eyes were just as much good as the beams, Albin thought. They were useless precautions: rebellion wasn't about to happen. It made more sense, if you thought about it, to worry the way Johnny Dodd worried, about the Confederation--against which spy-eyes and Belbis beams weren't going to do any good anyhow. (And nothing was going to happen. Nothing, he told himself firmly, was going to happen. Nothing.) The Alberts were shunted off without trouble. Albin, heaving a small sigh, fixed the details of his next job in his mind: quality control in a smelting process. It took him a few seconds to calm down and get ready, and then he headed for room six, where one Albert waited for him, trying to think only of the job ahead, and not at all of the party, of Dr. Haenlingen, of Johnny Dodd, of rebellion and war. He nearly succeeded. * * * * * When he opened the door the Albert inside turned, took a single look at him, and said: "I do not mean to make masters troubled." Albin said: "What?" "I do not ask questions now." Albin blinked, and then grinned. "Oh," he said. "You're the one. Damn right you don't ask questions. You just listen to what I tell you--got that?" "I listen," the Albert said. Albin shut the door and leaned against it. "Okay," he said. "Now the first thing, you come over here and watch me." He went to the far side of the room, flicked on the remote set, and waited for it to warm up. In a few seconds it held a strong, steady picture: a single smelter, a ladle, an expanse of flooring. "I see this when you teach me before," the Albert said in almost a disappointed tone. "I know," Albin told it. Routine was taking over and he felt almost cheerful again. There was a woman working in the food labs in Building Two. He'd noticed her a few times in the past weeks. Now he thought of her again, happily. Maybe tonight "This time I'm going to show you what to do," he told the Albert, and swept a hand over a row of buttons. In the smelter, metal began to heat.