others? Are we on our way back to the Bad Old Times with their unslaked thirst for death? We did not promise you immortality but we did promise that, accidents apart, you should die natural deaths, and it was only in response to your own craving for danger that we revoked our promise. Has that craving not been glutted? Has it in fact grown on what it fed on? We cannot think so; we can only suppose that the Voluntary Principle, that unavoidable but noxious adjunct, has become inflamed at the prospect of what it calls compulsion. Compulsion! Has not the motto of our regime always been 'Free Will'? Would any of you, standing, sitting, or lying (alas, you are all of you too fond of lying), who hear these words, dare to say that since the time Our envoy led you from the Shades, into this unpromising land, you have ever acted under compulsion? That we have ever forced you, our dear subjects, to do anything you did not want to do? "Patients and delinquents! "The Motor Expeditions (Country) Service will be resumed, but with this difference: in future not one but three of the six coaches will meet with an accident. Never since our accession has the Voluntary Principle been stretched so far; and we are confident that when the day comes those chariots of death will stand empty on Progress Square: no drivers, no ticket collectors, no passengers will be seen; everyone will be on his knees or on hers (please do not laugh, as pleasantry is meant), thanking us for having saved them from themselves. "Patients and delinquents! We have spoken." Again the valleys were exalted, again the Sister and the nurses made their ritual curtsy, again the bedridden bowed three times. And so strong was the feeling of relief that for a moment no one noticed the small figure in the doorway who made her curtsy not once but several times. "Gracious Dictator!" exclaimed the Sister, who all this time had been immobilized beside Jael's bed. "There she is! And now there's no time to hide the flower! Ten to one she won't spot it, all these old girls are as blind as bats, but if she does, Jael 97, you'd better say an angel sent it! This old thing is not too bad, and she's quite religious. She's a bit ga-ga, too, if you ask me. But mind, don't start any hares. Just answer what she asks." The Sister bustled off toward the doorway where the Visitor was still standing, peering round the ward with her nearsighted eyes.
Chapter Twelve
JAEL'S bed was halfway down the ward on the left side. With a mixture of impatience, curiosity, and misgiving she watched the Visitor's progress from bed to bed. She did not go straight up the row, she zigzagged, so she would have seen twelve patients before Jael's turn came. She seemed to stay about five minutes with each. An hour of waiting! Jael wished that it was over. Try as she would, she couldn't think her own thoughts; like an examination candidate she kept imagining questions that the Visitor might put to her. She would see at once, of course, that Jael was a Failed Alpha; that would prejudice her from the start. She would know of course, that Jael was a coach casualty, as every woman in the ward was; but would she know that she had been the ringleader in the dance round the tower? Would the Sister have told her? Jael didn't think so; she didn't talk much to the Sister, whose chief part in the proceedings seemed to be to accompany her from bed to bed, wheeling a sort of canvas hut, with straight sides and a barrel roof, such as road men sometimes use, big enough to enclose bed, Visitor, and patient. It had the air of a Confessional, sightproof and soundproof. Why were her thoughts so self-accusing? Jael wondered. She couldn't think of a single virtue she possessed, or any quality that would pass as a virtue in the eyes of the regime. The Visitor, who was no doubt an emissary of the regime, would look upon her as a hopeless backslider. How did the other patients look, after their ordeal? Shattered, in tears? Jael couldn't see very
Chapter Twelve
JAEL'S bed was halfway down the ward on the left side. With a mixture of impatience, curiosity, and misgiving she watched the Visitor's progress from bed to bed. She did not go straight up the row, she zigzagged, so she would have seen twelve patients before Jael's turn came. She seemed to stay about five minutes with each. An hour of waiting! Jael wished that it was over. Try as she would, she couldn't think her own thoughts; like an examination candidate she kept imagining questions that the Visitor might put to her. She would see at once, of course, that Jael was a Failed Alpha; that would prejudice her from the start. She would know of course, that Jael was a coach casualty, as every woman in the ward was; but would she know that she had been the ringleader in the dance round the tower? Would the Sister have told her? Jael didn't think so; she didn't talk much to the Sister, whose chief part in the proceedings seemed to be to accompany her from bed to bed, wheeling a sort of canvas hut, with straight sides and a barrel roof, such as road men sometimes use, big enough to enclose bed, Visitor, and patient. It had the air of a Confessional, sightproof and soundproof. Why were her thoughts so self-accusing? Jael wondered. She couldn't think of a single virtue she possessed, or any quality that would pass as a virtue in the eyes of the regime. The Visitor, who was no doubt an emissary of the regime, would look upon her as a hopeless backslider. How did the other patients look, after their ordeal? Shattered, in tears? Jael couldn't see very
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