Deva nodded. “There is, of course. In the beginning they were the elected representatives of the people--the remnants of the old democratic system.” She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “But now that human safeguard doesn’t even exist any more. The machine picks its own personnel. The original administrators spent most of their time watching and checking on each other to see that no tampering with the mandates occurred. The Machine decided it could do much better by picking men who would not be tempted to tamper.” The Machine seemed so harmless, with its rows on rows of black panels and glowing tubes and murmuring relays! But it was the enemy. Its very existence had made it forever impossible for him to possess Barie as his own. From every man upon the face of the Earth it had taken something. A desire, a dream, a woman, a treasured possession. They left the gallery quietly, for they had seen all that they cared to see. They went quickly out and up to the street level and took one of the cars that were freely available to the citizens. Rick glanced at his watch. “It’s almost time to get back to the bull pen,” he said. Deva did not reply. Her lips were compressed, and she was staring straight ahead of her. Rick looked around at the magnificent towers and airy bridges of the city. “No regrets?” he whispered. “No,” Deva said. “No regrets.” She started the motor of the car, punched the button for the lane and route she desired, and leaned back against the seat with her eyes closed. Swiftly the car moved out into the stream of traffic, and picked up speed. VII Rick could not shake off a chill sense of foreboding as the mass of the city was left behind. It did not seem possible they could so easily escape a monster whose tentacles encircled the earth. Might it not even now be watching them through unseen eyes in the walls of the great buildings? When they had gone far enough would it not jerk them back, willing to play a cat-and-mouse game with them until they no longer had energies enough left to continue the fight? He told himself that he was taking too despairing a view. Deva had lived all her life here, and had been trained as a technical designer of circuits such as those employed by the Machine. She understood its workings, and knew that it could be misled and deceived. He hoped, too, that someday men would do more than just run away from the Machine. A vague but burning desire had been kindled to activity within him. He would have given his life to be an instrument, no matter how small, in its destruction. But he knew that in his lifetime such a rebellion by the many might well remain only a dream. He turned his attention to the road as they cleared the advancing edges of the residential section and moved out onto the express highway, heading south.