Dancers in the Afterglow by Jack L. Chalker

psychological softener. Most people adjust to it, which is the first strong indication of the malleability of humanity. When social and psychological degradation becomes an accepted norm, barriers to much deeper alterations have already been partially lifted. The next step is a crucial one, one about which we know little because we can see only its effects. Our best guess is that, having lived the way, they have, the captives are offered a way back to civilized existence, a way out of the dreary, filthy life they lead. To do so, they must fulfill a set of psychological goals. These goals are achieved by applied psychology and Pavlovian conditioning. Whatever the Machists do, it works in a majority of cases fairly quickly, and—as the group of primitives living in squalor diminishes—in almost every case in time.
    — A Primer on Machist Behavior,p. 974.

    THE FLYER ATTRACTED LITTLE NOTICE FROM THE group; flyers were always stopping to check on this or that. Even the fact that this one landed in the diamond wasn't unusual. The generator was regularly checked and serviced as a precautionary measure. By this point the tribal group was so conditioned to their territorial limits they would never have exceeded them in any case.
    Two figures climbed out of the flyer, one familiar and the other much less so. They quickly grabbed bags like large suitcases from the hatch, then ran. clear while the flyer sped away.
    This was unusual, and noticed by some of the people working in the fields. One was dispatched to fetch Yuri.
    Yuri was in the woods with a small group testing a couple of makeshift stone axes—sharp, flat stones tied to sticks with antelope hide that had been soaked, tied, and allowed to dry. They worked, although slowly and with a great deal of muscle power, for chopping trees.
    A woman ran up to him excitedly. "Yuri! Yuri!" she yelled, then halted, getting her breath.
    "What's the matter?" he responded, concerned. "Somebody hurt?"
    She shook her head and gasped for breath.
    "Some men—some Machists—'have landed in the diamond! To stay, it looks like!"
    He frowned. "How many?" he prodded.
    'Two, we think," came the reply. "They unloaded some cases and went into the funny building. And that's not all! Only one of them looked like the old soldiers! The other looked different, dressed different!"
    Yuri stopped the chopping. "Let's go see what's up," he suggested, and they all followed him like obedient sheep.
    The sun was still up, but already he could see differences in the diamond. Lights burned in the old guard shack—and in the other building as well.
    Many of the tribe were there, but keeping then: distance, waiting for him. Genji cleared his way, and those with him joined the rest of the group. He continued to walk across the diamond, past the now covered pit toilet, and up to a position between the two buildings. The protective fence around both was still up, he noted. There was no reaction to his presence at the start, which didn't surprise him but did serve to unnerve him slightly.
    The door to the strange building opened suddenly, and a puzzling figure stood there. He looked like an older man, with thin, carefully clipped white hair and a broad, snow-white mustache. He had a ruddy complexion, and was dressed in a casual outdoorsman's outfit such as might have been sold in the old days on the boardwalk of Lamarine.
    The old days, Yuri thought suddenly to himself. How quickly it becomes the old days.
    The man's face was gentle and kindly, and his blue eyes sparkled. "Well! Hello!" the stranger called out to Yuri, in a rich, friendly, grandfatherly voice. "Come on over! You must be the leader of the group!"
    He approached cautiously, one eye on that glowing fence.
    Suddenly the old man snapped his fingers. "Of course! Of course! The fence! Hold on a moment!" He went back inside and suddenly the area of the fence in front of the door went off. Then he was back.
    "Come in! Come in!" the stranger invited. "We have