The idea of being offended hadn't occurred to him, but he tried it out experimentally and discovered he didn't like it. Before he could say anything, though, Norma had become energetic again. "Enough analysis," she said abruptly, so strongly that he wasn't sure what she meant by the words. "Sit down--sit down." He felt for the chair behind him and sat. Norma cast a keen eye over the nearby crowds, spotted an empty chair and went off for it. "Later," she told him, when she had placed herself next to him, "we can join the crowd. For now, let's get--let's get better acquainted. Johnny." "That's the first time you've called me Johnny," he said. "So it is," she said. Her face was a mask: and then it lightened. "What do you work at, Johnny?" "I'm in Building Three," he said: it was easier to answer her than anatomize the confusions he felt. "I work with smelting and quality control--you know." He took another sip of his drink, and found to his surprise that it was more than half gone. "With the Alberts," she said. "I know." He thought he read her look correctly. "I don't like it either," he told her earnestly. "But somebody has to do it. I think--" "You don't have to get defensive," Norma said. "Relax. Enjoy yourself. Join the party. Did I look at you as if you were a murderer of small children?" "I just--don't like it," he said carefully. "I--well, there isn't anything I can do about it, is there?" "I wouldn't know," she said, and then (had she made a decision? He couldn't tell) she went on: "I'm in Psych, myself." "Psych? You?" "Psych, me," she said. "So I'm every bit as responsible as you are. And maybe the reason there's nothing to do is--is because it's already been done." "Already been done?" Dodd swallowed the rest of his drink in one gulp and leaned toward her. Norma looked down at her own empty glass. "There are rumors," she said. "Frankly, I'd rather they didn't get around. And if I hadn't had too much to drink--or something--I wouldn't even be mentioning them. I'm sorry." "No," he said, surprising himself. "Tell me. What rumors?" Norma kept her eyes on her glass. "Nothing," she said, in a new, strained voice. Dodd remained in the same position, feeling more tense than he could ever remember having felt. "Tell me," he said. "Come on. If you've gone this far--" "I suppose I have," she said. "I suppose I've gone too far now, haven't I?" "You've got to tell me." "Yes," she said. "It's--they say the Confederation knows. I mean knows what we're doing here. Officially. Everything." She dropped the glass then and Dodd stooped ridiculously to pick it up: it lay between their chairs. He felt the blood rushing to his head. There was pounding in his temples. He got the glass and gave it to her but she took it absently, as if she hardly noticed him. "Of course, it's just a rumor," she said in a low voice. "The people know," Dodd said. "It's out. It's all out. About the slavery. Is that what you mean?" She nodded. "I'm sorry."