netic vibratory field. That's the secret of our immortality
and yours. Like all matter, human difference is in the electro-magnetic,
vibratory rates. We have these punch-plates on file for every prisoner.
We have one of you. Any dead human body we merely put in a tank which
dissolves it into separate cells, a mass of stasis with potentiality to
be reformed into any type of human being of which we have an
identification punch-plate, you see? This tank of dissociated cells is
surrounded by an electro-magnetic field induced from a machine by one of
the identification punch-plates. That particular human being lives
again, the body, its mind, its life pattern identical to that from which
the original punch-plate was made. Each time you have died, we reduced
your body, regardless of its condition, to dissociated cells in the
tank. The identification punch-plate was put in the machine. Your unique
electro-magnetic field reformed the cells into you. It could only be
you, as you are now. From those cells we can resurrect any one of whom
we have an identification plate.

"That is all, No. 5274. Now that you're indoctrinated, you will work
from now on in the food-mart, because of your experience."

* * * * *

For an undeterminable length of time, he followed the routines of the
bells. In the big food-mart, among the hydroponic beds, and the canning
machines; among the food-grinders and little belts that dropped cans of
food-concentrate into racks and sent them off into the walls.

He managed to talk more and more coherently with No. 4901. He stopped
referring to suicide, but if anyone had the idea that Marquis had given
up the idea of dying, they were wrong. Marquis was stubborn. Somewhere
in him the flame still burned. He wouldn't let it go out. The bells
couldn't put it out. The throbbing machines couldn't put it out. And now
he had at last figured out a way to beat the game.

During an eating period, Marquis said to 4901. "You want to die. Wait a
minute--I'm talking about something we can both talk and think about. A
murder agreement. You understand? We haven't been conditioned against
killing each other. It's only an overt act of selfdes--all right, we
don't think about that. But we can plan a way to kill each other."

4901 looked up. He stopped eating momentarily. He was interested.
"What's the use though?" Pain shadowed his face. "We only go through
it--come back again--"

"I have a plan