“You are to write a history of the upper world, of course,” explained the Head Member, surprised that I should ask the obvious. “How you are to proceed will be for you to decide; but you must remember that this will be your assigned work, to which you are expected to devote not less than two hours a day. I might point out, moreover, that yours is one of those rare cases where the assigned work is so important that you might do well to combine it with your optional work, and so dedicate your time exclusively to your duties as historian.” “Perhaps that would be the best way,” I agreed, for it struck me that the task before me would require all my energies. But at that juncture an important question occurred to me. I did not wish to seem too commercial; but it was evident that the examiners had overlooked something essential. “Now as to the practical returns,” I ventured, mildly. “I know, of course, that I cannot expect to be paid very much--” “To be paid?” repeated four or five of the Committee members all at once, with looks of such sheer amazement that I knew that I had blundered. “Oh, then perhaps I must show you some results first?” I suggested, perceiving no other alternative. For two or three seconds there was silence--an ominous, puzzling silence which made me realize that I had given deep offense. “Young man,” the Head Member at length broke forth, severely, “I fear that you are under a grave misapprehension. But possibly you are not wholly to blame, for it may be that your own country still labors under those primitive social arrangements which we Atlanteans abolished three thousand years ago. Know, then, that there is no such thing as payment in our land. There is no money; there is no medium of exchange. You do your work, and in return receive all the necessaries of life; your meals are brought to you by State employees, just as they have been brought to you thus far; you are also lodged by the State, clothed by the State, educated by the State; the State works of art are at your disposal, you are admitted freely to all State entertainments, and are even granted periodic vacations to break the monotony of existence. What more could any man desire?” “No more, of course,” I conceded, feeling utterly crushed. “Very well, then,” said the official, with an indulgent smile that made me feel ridiculous. “Now there is only one more matter to be decided. How would you like to set out on your travels the day after tomorrow?” “What travels?” I gasped, wondering what on earth he could mean. “Why, evidently you haven’t heard about that, either!” remarked the Head Member, noting my surprise. “You see, every Atlantean, upon receiving his assignment and before taking up his duties, is expected to make a tour of the country, so as to acquaint himself with it at first hand. Otherwise, how could he expect to voice himself intelligently on national affairs?” Having nothing to say in reply, I merely gaped and remained silent.