“You don’t believe then that the Machine is the infallible god it’s supposed to be?” he asked curiously. “I thought all Mechs bowed to it three times upon arising, and before going to bed.” Deva’s lips tightened in disgust. “It’s a man-made machine, and only a fool would let it dictate his life for him.” “There are a good many fools, apparently.” “Millions of them,” Deva agreed. “Including Gerald?” “Including both Gerald and Barie,” said Deva. Rick started to protest, then grinned. “I think we’ll manage this getaway if it’s physically possible. Just what are your plans?” “Because you’re an Agro it will be possible for me to get permission to take you out in the city--away from the bull pen. We’ll make several trips, and come back each time. But on the final trip, we’ll just keep going.” “Is it that easy?” “There’ll be a search, of course. A search is routine, but it’s never very intensive. After that, however, it’s a long way to the nearest Outlander post and decent food and shelter. You won’t think it’s easy when it’s over.” “I’m ready to start now,” Rick said, pressing her hand. She shook her head. “No. Our wisest course is to separate now. Tonight there will be a musical show put on for the benefit of all the gay lovers in the bull pen. You’ll take me to that.” “Fine. We’ll go on our first tour tomorrow?” “I’ll see about the arrangements. You’d better pretend to steal a kiss now--just to make it look real.” Rick complied. After a moment Deva broke away, protesting, with fire in her eyes. “It doesn’t have to be _that_ real, farmer-boy! You’ll behave yourself--or find yourself left here alone.” Rick grinned. “From what you have just told me, you’d have great difficulty in escaping without me. So I don’t intend to worry.” * * * * * Even in the sanctuary of his own apartment Rick forced himself to suppress his excitement over the prospects of immediate escape. From what Deva had said, he was certain that the watch circuits were observing him constantly--here as well as out in the park. He smiled to himself at the memory of Deva’s name for it. The bull pen. Well, what could be more appropriate? He looked down at the strolling couples walking arm-in-arm, as if the whole revolting spectacle had been entirely their idea. In disgust he turned away again. How could men and women make love at the dictates of a machine? What had happened to the human race, anyway? At least he had to admire and respect Deva. She had courage enough to rebel against the system, despite her certain knowledge that she would lose her place in the only kind of society she knew. And perhaps the price would be death. Inevitably, his thoughts went back to Barie. He imagined her in a similar position, facing the same kind of challenge. What if the Machine actually should call her up. It could happen!