"I realise that, honey, but it's interesting to speculate. Don't we have guaranteed freedom of thought?" She threw up her hands as if dealing with a child. "Naturally we have freedom of thought. But you should have the right thoughts, shouldn't you? Wendell, promise me you won't go back to that library." "Well--" "Reading's a very risky thing anyway." Her eyes were saucer-round with fright. "Please, darling. Promise." "Sure, you're right, honey. I promise." * * * * * He meant it when he said it. But that night, tossing from side to side, he felt less certain. In the morning, as he went out, Marie asked him where he was going. "I want to observe the preparations for the Preliminary Rites." "Now that," she grinned, "is what I call _healthy_ thinking." For a while he did stand around the Central Plaza along with thousands of other idlers, watching the robot dump trucks assemble the piles of discarded equipment. The crowd cheered loudly as an enormous crane was knocked over on its side. "There's fifty millions worth out there!" a bystander exulted. "It's going to be the biggest Preliminary I've ever seen." "It certainly will be!" he said, catching a little of the other man's enthusiasm despite his previous doubts. Preliminary Rites were part of the emotion-stoking that preceded the Highest Holy Day. Each Rite was greater and more destructive than those that had gone before. As tokens of happy loyalty, viewers threw hats and watches and stickpins onto the pile just prior to the entry of the slaggers. What better way could be found for each man to manifest his common humanity? After a while doubt started assailing him again, and Hart found himself returning almost against his will to the Library Building. Burnett greeted him cordially. "To-day's visit is completely legal," he said. "Anyone doing olden time research is automatically authorized if he has been here before." "I hope my thought can be as legal," Hart blurted out. "Well--that was just a joke." "Oh, I can recognize a joke when I hear one, my friend." Hart went to his booth, feeling the man's eyes measuring him more intently than ever. It was almost a welcome relief to start reading the reference scanner once more. But not for long. As the wider pattern unfolded, his anxiety state intensified. It was becoming perfectly obvious that many, many replacements used to be made long before they were needed. And it was still true. _I should not be thinking such thoughts_, he told himself, _I should be outside in the Plaza, being normal and human_. But he could see how it had come about, step by step. First there had been pressure from the ruling echelons, many of whose members only maintained their status through excessive production. Then, much more important, there had been the willful blindness of the masses who wanted to keep their cozy, familiar treadmills going.