Lloyd took another look at his watch. Five past eight. That gave him till ten past to arrive at the Vote Box. With mounting anxiety, he counted heads in the line before him. He was twelfth. If each person took the allotted thirty seconds--He'd miss his Vote, have to be hospitalized for Readjustment. He tried to stay calm as the line advanced. With two minutes to go, he found four people before him. The first, a grey-suited man with very little hair, nocked his plate in the slot--Then stood and pondered. It was fully twenty-five seconds before he depressed one of the buttons in the Vote Box's interior, where his choice would remain secret. Another few seconds to retrieve his plate, and then a full six precious seconds while the next person, a skinny woman very near the compulsory retirement age, fumbled in a deep leather purse for her card. And _she_ pondered.... Sweat sprang out on Lloyd's forehead. There wouldn't be enough time. There _couldn't_ be ... unless-- "Miss!" he said, to the back of the small blonde head in front of him. The girl spun about to face him, dark green eyes wide in fright, breath hissing between parted lips. "I didn't mean to startle you," he said, contritely. "It's just that--" It was terrible, telling such an awful confidence to a total stranger, but it was the only way to convince her quickly. "I've missed twice this quarter," he blurted. "Not my fault. I'm a good Kinsman, honestly. It was line-jams, both times. Too many people for too few Vote Boxes. You must believe me!" "What--" she said, a little dazedly. "What can _I_ do?" "Let me have your place in line!" begged Lloyd. "I've timed it. Less than a minute left till Count, and two ahead of me, including yourself. _Please_ help me!" "I--" she said, with a funny, almost hysterical smile. "I don't know why you should be so--" Then she stepped aside, swiftly. "Go ahead. Hurry!" Lloyd leaped into the breach without even pausing to voice his thanks. As the young man before him stepped away, Lloyd jammed his plate into the slot, and shoved his fingers inside the handspace. A fumble, and he had a button, he didn't know which one. Pro was right, Con was left, but he just prodded it inward without checking its location. Then the light died on the screen, and his plate popped out of the slot. He caught it deftly, sighed in quavery relief, and turned to thank his benefactor. He saw her, trailing after the departing people toward one of the arcades, shuffling her feet, apparently in no hurry. Then an uncomfortable thought struck him, and he ran to catch up with her. "Miss--!" he said, taking her arm. Again the brief look of fear on her features, then she smiled. It was a small, very tired smile. "You needn't thank me--" she began. "I wasn't going to--" said Lloyd. Then, embarrassed, "I mean, of _course_ I'd thank you, but that isn't why I came after you. I just realized--Have _you_ missed any Votes this quarter? I'd hate to be the cause of _your_ Readjustment...."