"Because I wanted top secret clearance. Because I wanted to work close to the Dictator. You see--" Abruptly, Ellaby stopped talking, clasping a hand over his mouth in sudden confusion. He wasn't supposed to talk about this. Lying, of course, was as far from Ellaby's nature as it was from anyone else's, assuming he were reasonably close to the mode. But Ellaby hadn't been asked for all that information directly. "What kind of job will I get?" he asked, trying desperately to change the subject. It was too late. The personnel clerk asked, "Just why did you want to work close to the Dictator?" Ellaby felt a single drop of sweat fall from his armpit under the loose tunic and roll, itching, down the side of his body. He wanted with all his soul to be back in High Falls. Anyplace but here. "Why, Ellaby?" "I can't answer that question. A man isn't forced to answer a question unless he wants to." "Certainly not," said the personnel advisor, staring blandly at Ellaby. "This is a democratic country." "Then--" "But you've never known a man to refuse answering a question asked of him officially, have you?" "I'm not sure I understand, sir." "You don't have to be so obsequious, Ellaby. I'm less modal than you are, but I make the best of my divergencies. What I meant was this: did you ever hear of a criminal _not_ confessing to his crime?" "Well, no." "I'll ask you the question again, Ellaby. Why did you want to work near the Dictator?" The man leaned close, peered at Ellaby. The room was small, almost a cubicle, the bare walls seeming to close in on all four sides. Ellaby stifled a wild impulse to scream and run out of there, run any place as long as he could leave the room and the personnel advisor behind him. "I'm sorry, but I can't answer that question," he said finally. "Tell me, Ellaby, did you ever hear your own voice?" What a strange question. "Why, certainly. All the time, when I speak." "No, I mean your voice reproduced artificially. Your radio voice?" "No, I never heard it." "Well, you're about to." While the personnel advisor busied himself setting up the radio equipment, Ellaby had a few seconds in which to think. He could still make a clean breast of the whole thing. They had chosen him--Mulden, the Sinclair woman and the others in High Falls--for his modality. Very well, he could use that modality to get out from under. He didn't understand. He didn't know what they were leading him to, slowly, over a period of ten years. _He_ didn't want to assassinate the Dictator. What in the world would he want to do that for? He would gladly name all the names he knew if the personnel advisor would only let him forget the whole mad experience and return to High Falls. He could attend Adjustment Academy if they thought he needed it. Anything. Anything.... "Please slip these earphones over your head, over your ears. There. Is the microphone close enough to your lips? I think so." * * * * *