The Furious Rose By DEAN EVANS Illustrated by THORNE [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction January 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] This world was a setup for any man who wanted to get along--provided one had enough victims to toss to the wolves! The Master Clock on the black desk in the office of _Federal Executions_ made a quiet blipping sound. Immediately the lights lowered to Emote Neutral. Long, probing shadow fingers snaked here and there across the floor, and a silence that should have been restful--and wasn't--descended on the place. Tony Radek leaned back in his chair and frowned. One-fifteen in the morning. At one-fifteen in the morning no man, no matter who, should be going to his Neg-Emote. Why not hang a man instead? Or electrocute him? Or gas him the way they used to back in the old days? In those old days his grandfather used to talk about, where twelve ordinary citizens said the word that peeled the life off a man like skinning an onion. He sighed softly and folded his hands across a tiny paunch that was just beginning to show. Tony Radek was getting old. He was a "safe" now. That meant he needn't worry about the war any longer. He was a nice, mild, peaceable gentleman who stayed at home and thought beautiful thoughts about the younger men out in space. A man his age didn't feel anger and hate and retribution and lust and treachery any more. He was just a little old fat guy. He was the Federal Executioner. He frowned again and leaned forward and touched a nacre button on the desk top. That lit up the screen on his left. Not the Master Screen, which was the one on his right. This was the other, the one that could tell him what was going on outside the office, outside in _Portal Waiting_, where certain peculiar ghouls who derived a measure of excitement from the executions were allowed by the gracious State to hang out. He stared at the screen. His frown deepened. _Portal Waiting_ should be bare and vacant at this hour, but it wasn't. This was the third night in a row that it wasn't. There was a girl out there. A quiet girl, a girl who looked about as ghoulish as one of the nice red ritual roses over in the cooler built into the wall. _Damn the dame, why didn't she go home?_ Tony Radek's upper lip lifted a little, showing small angry teeth. At once the Emote Neutral lights in the office flickered wildly. Tony pulled his eyes from the screen and glared up at the lights. That's progress for you. Let a man go on one little momentary emotional binge, like this, and right away spies in the joint start screaming. In a moment now, the one on his right--the Master Screen--would blink into life and old hell-hips himself would start poking around asking questions. Just see if it didn't.