buying panics.

There had been growing awareness of what was happening, even sporadic
resistance to it by such varied ideologies as Conservative Thrift,
Asocial Beatnikism and Radical Inquiry. But, strangely enough, very
few people had cared. Indeed, anything that diminished consumption was
viewed as dangerously subversive.

"And rightly so!" was his first, instinctive reaction. His second,
reasoned one, though, was less certain.

The contradiction started to give him a headache. He hurried from the
scanning room, overtaxed eyes blinking at the rediscovery of daylight.

Burnett walked him to the door. "Not feeling well?" he inquired.

"I'll be all right. I just need a few days real work." He stopped.
"No, that's not why. I'm confused. I've been reading crazy things
about obsolescence. They used to have strange reasons for it. Why,
some people even said replacements were not always improvements and
were unnecessary!"

Burnett could not completely hide his pleasure. "You've been getting
into rather deep stuff."

"Deep--or nonsensical!"

"True. True. Come back tomorrow and read some more."

"Maybe I will." But he was happy to get away from the library
building.

Marie was horrified when he told her that evening about his studies.
"Don't go back there," she pleaded. "It's dangerous. It's subversive!
How could people say such awful things? You remember that Mr. Johnson
around the corner? He seemed such a nice man, too, until they arrested
him without giving a reason ... and how messed up he was when he got
out last year. I'll bet that kind of talk explains the whole thing.
It's crazy. Everyone knows items start wearing out and they have to be
replaced."

"I realise that, honey, but it's interesting to speculate. Don't we
have guaranteed freedom of thought?"

She threw up her hands as if dealing with a child. "Naturally we have
freedom of thought. But you should have the right thoughts, shouldn't
you? Wendell, promise me you won't go back to that library."

"Well--"

"Reading's a very risky thing anyway." Her eyes were saucer-round
with fright. "Please, darling. Promise."

"Sure, you're right, honey. I promise."

* * * * *

He meant it when he said it. But that night, tossing from side to
side, he felt less certain. In the morning, as he went out, Marie
asked him where he was going.

"I want to observe the preparations for the Preliminary Rites."

"Now that," she grinne