He sat still a moment catching his breath, feeling the thin bodies adjust themselves away from him. Scooping some cereal from one of the center pots, he began to eat. The first mouthful stuck in his throat and he hastily filled his cup. But when he had gulped down the sugared water, a wave of nausea made him gag. He sat gripping the edge of the table, his head spinning. And thoughts crept into his mind--thoughts and questions he wanted to keep out. Why were the trainees being starved? If the Conquerors wanted to kill them, it would be simple enough to use the quicker and less expensive method of firing squads. The training area was proof that they wanted workers for their new world. And despite the hunger which made hollow-eyed skeletons of them all, the men and women walked straighter and with definite confidence. Their lips were sealed shut, their eyes flickered observantly, their heads were always rigidly forward. Except for a few lingering misfits like himself, the group conformed as well as humans ever could. Why then the delay in releasing them as had been promised? He screwed his eyes around and tried to see the other tables. Those even a short distance from the door were almost empty, and further into the hall they seemed deserted. He had no way of knowing the total number of men, but he was sure there weren't more than a hundred--out of an original five hundred. If the same proportion held true for the women, there were less than two hundred Americans left in the project! He twisted his eyes to the person on his left. The face was that of a boy in his late teens--the beard spotty and thin. The head barely moved as he chewed, he held himself rigid, his hand moved up to his mouth in a straight line and down the same way--he ate like a machine. George swung his eyes to the right. Another young machine turned out by the Conquerors. But was it only to be starved to death that these men, most of them so young, had obeyed? It made no sense and this, more than the conformity to slavery, terrified him. But his terror lasted only a moment. What had he to do with whether they lived or died? He was finished; all that mattered was seeing Adele. He picked up his spoon and ate until the whistle shrieked its order for the walking to begin. Then he rose with utensils in hand and was carried to the door in the silent rush. As he dropped his tinware into the barrel of chlorinated water, he thought with bitter amusement that there was nothing for the Conquerors to do anymore--hardly a full day's work for three or four men in operating the project now.