Johnny grinned at him. "Are you tired?" "Why, no." Tossing a chicken bone into the fire, Johnny went on: "And do you know the way to New York in the darkness?" "No--o." "I think I do. Are you ready to start?" "Are you serious?" Westler cried. "Do you mean that, Johnny Hope?" "Let's go." And not waiting for an answer, Johnny clapped Gilbert on the back, told him to take charge until Keleher had recovered, and left the clearing with Westler trailing at his heels. The night closed in about them, not quiet, but alive with the sounds of insects and the occasional soft-pad-padding of small hunting animals. Johnny set a quick, mile-eating pace which made Westler's breath wheeze in and out of his lungs asthmatically, but the older man did not complain once. CHAPTER VI "We have openings in the repair bays or for servants among the inner circle of Shining Ones who work hand in hand with our masters," the old woman told Starbuck and Diane after they had been taken from the rocket ship in New York and shunted underground where the subways had been converted into living quarters for humans without being given a chance to see the city. "Which will it be?" "We're not cut out to be menials," Starbuck said coldly, "but the repair bays don't appeal to me, either. You say servants to the leaders themselves?" "To the top echelon of Shining Ones, yes. You will find the socio-economic hierarchy rigidly enforced here. Well, which will it be?" Starbuck had heard about palace revolutions. It would be servants to the leaders, naturally. Let them bide their time, let them learn what they could of the Citadel and its Robots. "Servants," he said. "Are you married?" The old woman, shamelessly bare to the waist on this hot day, smiled at them with a perfect set of false teeth which seemed laughably incongruous in her gaunt, seamed face. Her bare breasts were dry as parchment and hung, flat but pendulant, almost to her waist. From a distance she looked almost like a manikin, a leathery, humanoid robot. "We are," Starbuck beamed. But Diane said, "Certainly not." The old woman cackled. "I believe the woman. In that case, you will live in these underground dormitories." "Not in the City upstairs?" Starbuck demanded, disappointed. "Not in the City, that is correct. Do not ask why, it is merely so. We work for the Robots and obey them, is that clear? Some day the only humans left on Earth will be Shining Ones, or so the Robots tell us. Then we will climb up into the light of day and take our rightful place, side by side with them. Meanwhile, we do as we are told." "Are you satisfied, Harry?" Diane wanted to know. "The Robots make promises--and destroy our brothers." "Our brothers?" Starbuck laughed. "You mean the people of the villages? Those, our brothers?" "The Plague makes brother hate brother, but you're a fool, Starbuck. The Robots want that, this playing of human against human."